A week of poor sleep, disturbing news, irritations that pile up. Too many hours of solitude, when you long for outings, laughter, children.
Restless reading, restless dreaming, restless legs.
The scale that refuses to budge despite days and days of dieting.
After a weekend of clouds, a brief stream of sun, downpours and thunder, streaks of violet… in the morning, the sweet smell of rain arouses an inexplicable sensation of calm.
You take a slow deep breath, hold it, then exhale.
You dab a drop of perfume on each wrist, delight in its spicy notes.
You let go of the fatigue, the worry, the annoyance. You reject the weight of the silence. You welcome the companionable quiet. You focus on your breathing.
Saved by Our Sense of Smell
It isn’t so surprising that emotions are affected by scent — both the smell of the rain and the fragrance on our pulse points. We know how cooking smells propel us back to childhood; odor is closely linked to both emotions and memories.
As Scientific American points out, the link between scents and moods is a matter of associative learning:
… in order for an odor to elicit any sort of response in you, you have to first learn to associate it with some event. This explanation for how odors affect us is based on what is known as associative learning, the process by which one event or item comes to be linked to another because of an individual’s past experiences. The linked event is then able to elicit a conditioned response for the original situation.
Cue the contentment when we smell soup simmering on the stove or cookies in the oven, these evocative aromas associated with happy family gatherings…
I recall this New York Times article on use of scent that points out:
The therapeutic properties of scent have been cultivated since antiquity. They were a particular fascination of medieval monks in their cloistered gardens.
Aren’t we susceptible to the effects of a broad range of odors in both our public and private spaces? Turned off, turned on, uplifted, unsettled?
Danger Signs and Scents? Energizing Scents?
Psychology Today goes so far as to suggest that scents can motivate behavior, reminding us:
Smell is often the first warning of safety or danger… Smells have the power to drive your behavior on an instinctive and subconscious level. Luckily, you can also harness the power of smell and consciously use it to your advantage…
And yet —
… most people undervalue the power of scent. Fragrances have the ability to evoke both positive and negative psychological states of mind and reactions in milliseconds.
When I inhale fresh dill — I’ve no idea why — I feel heavenly. So yes, I add fresh dill to salads and cook with it whenever I can.
My response to the sweet smell of showers falling on freshly cut grass eludes me. I can’t place this positive association, but I imagine its origins lie in childhood. And much as I love a sunny day, I’ll opt for periodic visits from a soft summer rain.
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Do you subscribe to the notion that “you can’t go home again”? I don’t mean to the house you grew up in…I mean the place…the community…the familiar. When I was younger, I looked forward to getting away from all those things, yet, no new place felt quite right. So, eventually I returned to that sense of place. Though many of the faces were new, the spirit, the community of that small town was the same. Did it really never change, or had I been the one to change? Embracing the neighborhood I thought I had outgrown, I’ve found connections I never felt I needed. Just wondering if that’s what we’re really seeking, when we search for a place to call home.
I love scents…those unique to each season…the scent of evergreens in December, the aroma of roasting chestnuts in November, fresh cut grass of Spring, the smell of the ocean in Summer. All are invigorating and rejuvenating because they are the scents of life.
Intriguing response, Angela. I do believe that a sense of home, which some may think of as a sense of belonging, is very important. More important to some of us than others. “Home” is possibly a location or environment or type of environment rather than people, if we truly don’t have people who feel like home.
I was reflecting on your opening paragraphs, thinking about the different ways we attempt to ameliorate the struggle of redefining a life. For me, it was partly rediscovering the sense of community in the small town I left behind. For a friend, it was traveling up and down the east coast, trying on different places, then choosing one he thought would be a warm blanket, but wasn’t. Finally finding a college town in Vermont that spoke to his soul. Others had their own remedies for those discordant moments. I was thinking that “place”, wherever that may be, is vital to the journey.
Yes, the smell of rain. But which rain? Where? It smells one way in Belgium, and another way in the south of France and still another in New York and another in the Midwest. Not to mention in Africa, whose smells I mostly never find, but now and then I get little hints, nuances, that take me straight back to red clay earth and glorious rain that promised life for another season.
So true, and beautifully expressed.
On rain –
Rain can be so contextual. Recently a thunderstorm drew me out of the house and onto the freeways for some “driving meditation” after a day of frustration and claustrophobia, and was the perfect calming antidote. Last night, when heavy showers threatened my long distance, holiday return driving, my opinion was quite different.
On scent –
I’ve had the experience of being “ambushed” by the smell of blue jello. I never would have guessed that the smell of jello would function as a time machine, or that blue jello would be distinctive from the others. But walking in a cafeteria line past the blue jello suddenly took me back fifty years to numerous walks through that same establishment with my parents.
Blue jello? Wow. Crazy!
The lighting storm that had me fully awake, dressed and dogs prepared to run for cover into the hallway shower or out the living room door to run from lightning strike of fire with winds at 60 mph? That storm, Robert? I was up from 3 am to 7 am on high alert hiding under a comforter with pillows all around me just in case of I didn’t know what as I listened to as many news reports as I could tune into. Terrified!
I am enjoying a nice calming rain now out on the patio. Sending it your direction, I think.
But blue jello? My first thought was the hospital, second was Luby’s?
I have a jello phobia from hospital memories of my Dad’s first quadruple bypass heart surgery in Houston in the 80’s (second heart attack). They gave him five years. He turns 90 this summer. No blue jello, please!
Probably not that storm, TD. Had it been that bad I would have been hiding too. But it was just exhilarating enough to get me out of “the moment”, which was exactly what I needed at the time. It was about ten days ago now.
Your second jello guess is dead-on. Of course, in South Texas, how many places could it be? 🙂 I’m not a jello fan either, pretty much the opposite. But I was very surprised that I had a sensory impression at all, not to mention the vivdness of it, and that it was tied to such a specific time and place. Plus I’d gone through that cafeteria possibly hundreds of times in the intervening years without having the flashback.
D.A., This is the most beautiful essay that I have read of yours. Poetic, for me.
“You let go of the fatigue, the worry, the annoyance. You reject the weight of the silence. You welcome the companionable quiet. You focus on your breathing.”
Your meditation in and of the rain surfaces only one question. “My response to the sweet smell of showers falling on freshly cut grass?”
You say, “I can’t place this positive association, but I imagine its origins lie in childhood. And much as I love a sunny day, I’ll opt for periodic visits from a soft summer rain.”
So yeah, I wonder with Andrea. Is there something about your childhood home in the mist?
Don’t know, TD. My childhood home was very much a mixed bag. There are moments when the scent of a certain sort of rain, whatever it may be mingled with, may be more linked to times in France when I was young, or possibly visits to my grandparents’ homes. My memories and associations of those visits are largely good. Honestly, I don’t know. (But what’s life without a little mystery?)
D.A., I have not noticed the scent of rain. I do appreciate the tapestry of color, the texture, shapes and movements of clouds, but mostly I love sounds of rain. Rain creates emotions that are wide range from calm to terrifying.
Perhaps the scent of the rain draws you to thoughts or memories of France once again, or to the memories of your grandparents. Only you will know you fully. The most intimate relationship we have our entire life is the one with ourselves. I think life is a mixed bag for everyone. Each life is a mystery unfolding, one moment at a time…into the unknown possibilities and uncharted territories.