Choosing the Right Hemisphere
July, 2026
It's hot, so we're swimming laps in the pond early in the day when the water temp is reasonable. By mid afternoon it feels more like a hot tub, which is fine for soaking but lousy for a swim.
We stepped out this July morning under an absolute cloudless sky and a radiant sun promising another sweltering day. I was thinking of a video from last night—meteorologist Chris Gloninger reporting that Salt Lake City was 109 degrees, the hottest temperature recorded in 152 years of monitoring. Billings, Montana, was 111, and Barcelona, Spain logged its highest temperature in 112 years—105 degrees. "Stop calling it weather,” Gloninger said. “This isn’t a heat wave, it’s a pattern, and we’re the reason."
I slid into the pond, remembering a clip featuring Sam Neill of Jurassic Park fame. He said he’d like a night with no dreams and a morning when there's really nothing on the news. No pestilence. No war. No aggression. People just leaving it alone and getting along with each other. Chickens laying eggs in the coop, a game of football on Saturday that someone might win, but more likely it will be a draw. Neill was looking for a day when really nothing happens. “That's my dream,” he said. “It'd just be nice."
As I swam, reaching and stretching with each stroke, aware of my form, my breath, the sound of water, I thought of brain scientist Dr Jill Taylor who had a stroke that damaged the left side of her brain. It would take eight years to recover. She recounts the experience in a Ted Talk called “My Stroke of Insight”.
The left side of our brains holds our memories, our language, our fears, ambitions, routines. Dr Taylor lost it all. She was limited to the right half, responsible for creativity, spatial abilities, and emotions. The two hemispheres work together but process things differently.
With her left side out of commission, she couldn’t walk, talk, read, write, or remember faces . Yet, she was aware. The right hemisphere is about the present moment. It thinks in pictures, gathers information from our sensory perceptions and creates a collage of what the present moment looks like—the smells and tastes, the sounds, the feelings.
As the effects of her stroke were taking hold, Dr Taylor experienced euphoria when function was limited to her right hemisphere. She knew she was having a stroke, and in the early stages the remnants of her left hemisphere would creep in and remind her of unfinished work, appointments, deadlines. She had things to do! But she didn’t want to let go of the euphoria, the peace and overwhelming comfort it offered.
The ordeal would convince her that we are all energy beings, one human family connected by consciousness, here to make the world a better place—perfect, whole, and beautiful. She had found Nirvana, and she knew that anyone at any time could “step to the right of their left hemispheres and find this peace.”
Some, like writer Linda Carroll, took the story further: “In 1992, scientists discovered that the electromagnetic field of a human body can be measured in a bubble around us, roughly the size of our outstretched arms. They can use sensors to measure it. The National Institute of Health says it’s our biofield, short for biometric field. A measure of the electrical energy emanating from our hearts.”
According to Carroll, when the left side of Dr Taylor’s brain shut down, she experienced colors in the biometric fields of people. When her doctor entered the room and said the left side of her brain had shut down and only her right brain was showing activity, she didn’t understand the sounds coming from his mouth. But she liked the colors in the bubble around him, so she smiled and watched, mesmerized.
A stranger entered the room. Dr Taylor did not recognize her but liked her colors, and allowed her mother to crawl into bed with her. But not everyone’s colors were welcomed. Some were grey and dark, and Taylor would scream until they left the room.
If the biofield theory is legit, it could explain how we respond, negatively or positively, when someone approaches close enough that our energies mesh. It may give credence to first impressions or gut responses.
As Dr Taylor was slowly finding her way to recovery, she kept reminding herself to not forget what she felt when controlled solely by her right brain. She saw it as the key to true contentment and peace, available to all, and she is sharing her story like a prophet.
I’d like to think that Sam Neill had learned to step beyond the endless chatter of his left hemisphere. For a few laps in the pond this morning, I did. As the planet warms, oceans rise, and fires burn, as wars and corruption dominate the news, maybe we need to remind ourselves that alongside our ambitions and fears and baggage is another way of being—one rooted in attention, compassion, and the present moment. Dr Jill Taylor says it’s ours for the taking.
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