Last night, I caught a whiff of a scent which took me right back to the moment I first fell inexpressibly, unutterably, irretrievably in love. It was a love unlike anything I had ever experienced, so elemental and powerful it almost hurt. I could hardly breathe as I took in every inch of the new guy in my life, one who, with a single beat of the heart, became the center of my universe.
Scents are profoundly evocative, and the passing whiff of baby oil brought back that magical moment in a way nothing else ever could. It is a base human sense, the ability to smell, and it transcends the conscious thought into the subconscious realm, where you feel instead of think.
There are many such scents that bring me to a powerful moment in my past. The smell of fresh, new plastic reminds me of the joy of opening a new doll on Christmas Eve night. The scent of fresh bread instantly transports me to my mother's kitchen, and the warmth and love I experienced there through her offerings of fresh bread and homemade delights. New crayons will always hold the promise of a new day, a fresh start, a new opportunity.
Everyone has their own list, surely, scents that bring you to a different place in your head and your heart. The interesting thing, though, at least for me, is that they are all happy thoughts, positive moments recalled with fond remembrance. There are no painful recollections, no moments of grief or despair. All are times which sustain me during dark times, memories of the wonderful, common, ordinary moments when I felt well loved in my life.
Neither are they moments from grand occasions or days of particular note. Instead, they make up the fabric of the everyday, binding me together with the people and the times which form the background fabric of my daily life.
I recently attended a memorial service for a man of accomplishments. His storied life was lived large, and on a fairly public stage. But I noticed that the recollections of the assembled company were not focused on the grand affairs. Instead, it was mostly about the small moments, where he lived as a friend in the day to day.
I think that is what struck me so profoundly when I had that brief whiff of baby oil. It didn't bring me to the moments of great accomplishment, and there have been many over the years. Instead, it brought me back to the moment my child and I were alone in a room, and I gazed at ten perfect fingers, and ten perfect toes, and two perfect eyes, and a perfect round little face, and I knew I had found the love of my life.
At the end of the day, I find I make more sense of my life with scents than I do with almost anything else. It is the fundamental, elemental moments which I remember then, spent in the loving company of those I cherish most highly.
I think, in a deeply spiritual way, it is how I find God. Present. Elemental. Eternal.
