Journey of Delight

Memories that Transport

“I am mortal, impermanent, imperfect, scared, often uptight and even petty, but wow, what a beautiful sunset.”

Anne Lamott (Almost Everything: Notes on Hope, p.118)

Ever been transported out of your rough-edged self by a beautiful sunset? Or up-lifted by a sudden memory of a loved one, now gone. Do you ever wonder why certain ancient memories to flash into consciousness unbidden? I was at an art opening last night where the artist was asked why he used oil paints instead of acrylics. He spoke first about the flexibility of oils; he liked the ease with which they could be blended and adjusted longer than acrylics, which tend to dry quickly. Then he added, “And besides, I love the smell of linseed oil.” I was instantly flipped back to my Uncle Jerry's art, his oil paintings, the smell of linseed oil, his smile, because he was happy when he painted. And then I remembered the smell of my grandfather's garage where he stored his lawnmower, and the fragrance of drying grass I so deeply associated with summer and freedom. Those memories took me right out of that gallery, and transported me back to childhood. They provided a little journey of delight.

The sense of smell (olfactory) is the first and oldest one we have. The “nose-brain” sits right on top of the brain stem, in the most primitive area of the brain. Even when we are old, we can vividly remember certain smells associated with events in our childhood. The smell of chalk dust and that oil-cleaner the janitors used to clean wood floors in our elementary school comes to mind. That then sparks memories of being sent outside to clean the erasers, banging them together and watching the cloud of chalk dust fly out, and feeling so privileged to have been chosen for the job.

It's a reminder, at least to me, that we are always connected to all we have ever been—the joyful child, the timid adolescent, the young adult, right up to who we are right now. We are also always connected to those who have passed away—my Uncle Jerry, my grandpa—because they live within us in every memory we have of them. Our mysterious and wonderful remembering-brain is a lifeline to our past and a joy to our present. For this I am grateful.

                                                              In the Spirit,

                                                                  Jane