I’ve had cause to think about this a lot over the years. My mom is a born mapreader. I’ve always had trouble. I’ve also always had problems telling left from right.
When I was a kid, I learned to write backwards with my left hand, in emulation of my extremely cool teenaged neighbor, who did it in emulation of Leonardo daVinci. I can still do that, though since I haven’t practiced much since then, my left-hand backwards handwriting looks like a 12-year-old’s. I don’t know if this was easy for me because I’m naturally ambidextrous or because I trained myself.
My undergrad degree is in acting and theater, and I had to take stage combat and dance classes to get my degree. I discovered that I really relate to the world differently than most folks seem to. “Left” and “right”, for me, it turns out, are not something I ever attached to my own body, but rather to my environment. Therefore, whenever I change my relationship to the environment, I need to re-establish leftness and rightness before I can follow directions again. So in dance class, introducing a turn to a combination of steps totally fucked me up, because I didn’t have time to do that re-establishment.
If dance combinations were to be typically described in terms of points on the compass, I would have had a chance at being a decent dancer, 'cause those don’t change. Yay for north south east and west!
In stage combat class, I learned broadsword “left-handed” because I managed to hurt my right wrist just before we started the broadsword unit. My fightmaster was amazed to find out that I did just as well as a left-handed broadsword fighter as I had as a right-handed rapier-and-dagger fighter – he was sure I’d be hopelessly confused, but since I’d never believed in the difference between my left and my right anyway, it didn’t make any difference to me. It was the only bonus associated with my corporeal dyslexia.
And then there’s the problems with “stage left and stage right” versus “house left and house right”… and then you get directors or fellow actors who confuse those things… and I had a problem.
I mostly solved my problem by having a little tiny L tatttooed onto the thumb-edge of my left wrist and an R on my right. (And yes, smartass, I made sure I got the correct letter on the correct wrist. And no, smartass #2, I do not have any other body parts labelled. Sheesh. Somebody always asks, don’t they?) To this day, I gotta look at those labels to give people directions, but hey, they’re always there, so I’m OK.
When I was out of college, I had occasion to create a map for the area around a job I had. It showed all the businesses, other buildings, and related features. (I created it in MS Word using its drawing features, but that’s another saga entirely.) It took me a few weeks to finish, and in the process, I learned that when I navigate, it’s kind of like a narrative. In this narrative, there are “turn events”, but I visualize the narrative like a movie screen: the screen stays in front of me. So landmarks work better than spatial instructions because they are easier to visualize in this way. Does that make sense? It’s hard to describe.
In talking with my husband about this, I realized that he navagates in an entirely different way – he “feels” the change in direction kind of like I “feel” gravity showing me upness and downness. So in a way, he’s using the sense of touch to help navigate, while I’m using the sense of sight exclusively.
How do you all mentally represent navigation?