The strongest trigger of memories is smell. The olfactory sense is connected to the parts of the brain, such as: amygdala and the hippocampus which are directly connected to emotion. While learning this in school, long time back, I couldn't quite believe that sight and sound were not stronger triggers. However, I was proven wrong one day I was with my family at the Long John Silvers. I had to use the bathroom, and as I opened the door, I was smacked with a smell I hadn't smelt in 11 years? And, in an instant, I was taken back to my father cleaning floors for the Catholic church in Plano, TX.
As I was driving during lunch today, I had the window cracked, the wind was coming through slightly, the smell of rain was slightly on the wind, and the song Divine Romance came playing through my playlist. I was immediatly taken back to the time of Lent the year I came into the Church. A song, a smell, and the look of the clouds were fast transporting.
So many things transport me back to memories of long past. Some smells, some sounds, some touches, some sights, some tastes...all ways that instantly bring smiles or tears. I have always been one to welcome a good memory, but sometimes the memories are not good. I was recently at a bar with some friends, and as I leaned over to smell the beer being drank by a friend it reminded me of his breath. It took me back to the moment I couldn't turn my head fast enough, and nothing disgusts me more than that moment I couldn't fight back.
But, oh the good memories. The ones that give me reasons to smile from ear to ear. The memories that bring back his laughter and his voice. The memories that help me to experience that summer that the world was perfect. I welcome those. Those are worth all the memories of that rank breath. Because if I had to choose between taking the good with the bad, I would always take the bad so I could have the good.
I think I got my love of smell from my father. Growing up my father never had for lack of good smelling things. He is a man who took pride in not only his looks, but also the way he smelled. We would gift him cologne for his birthday or Christmas...not usually a tie. I am the same. If I were to count the amount of good smelly things I have on my dresser the number would probably be upwards of 20? If only because I recognize the sentiment that smells bring. And, I have a smell for each mood I feel that I am in, and also for the season.
This really isn't about a certain Armani or Escada perfume. This is about those memories that I have when I wear them. This isn't about the song or the look of the clouds as I was driving at lunch. This is about the feeling of elation and anticipation I felt well up inside of me as I remembered my impending confirmation. This isn't about his horrid breath. This is about me healing and overcoming the pain that came with it. Memories: so powerful and elusive...and yet so cherished.
As I was driving during lunch today, I had the window cracked, the wind was coming through slightly, the smell of rain was slightly on the wind, and the song Divine Romance came playing through my playlist. I was immediatly taken back to the time of Lent the year I came into the Church. A song, a smell, and the look of the clouds were fast transporting.
So many things transport me back to memories of long past. Some smells, some sounds, some touches, some sights, some tastes...all ways that instantly bring smiles or tears. I have always been one to welcome a good memory, but sometimes the memories are not good. I was recently at a bar with some friends, and as I leaned over to smell the beer being drank by a friend it reminded me of his breath. It took me back to the moment I couldn't turn my head fast enough, and nothing disgusts me more than that moment I couldn't fight back.
But, oh the good memories. The ones that give me reasons to smile from ear to ear. The memories that bring back his laughter and his voice. The memories that help me to experience that summer that the world was perfect. I welcome those. Those are worth all the memories of that rank breath. Because if I had to choose between taking the good with the bad, I would always take the bad so I could have the good.
I think I got my love of smell from my father. Growing up my father never had for lack of good smelling things. He is a man who took pride in not only his looks, but also the way he smelled. We would gift him cologne for his birthday or Christmas...not usually a tie. I am the same. If I were to count the amount of good smelly things I have on my dresser the number would probably be upwards of 20? If only because I recognize the sentiment that smells bring. And, I have a smell for each mood I feel that I am in, and also for the season.
This really isn't about a certain Armani or Escada perfume. This is about those memories that I have when I wear them. This isn't about the song or the look of the clouds as I was driving at lunch. This is about the feeling of elation and anticipation I felt well up inside of me as I remembered my impending confirmation. This isn't about his horrid breath. This is about me healing and overcoming the pain that came with it. Memories: so powerful and elusive...and yet so cherished.
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