Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Wednesday Wish (24)

the air she breathes..
Photo by dream_maze via flickr
Late at night, after everyone has gone to sleep, when the worries from my head seep out and run far, far away, when the ocean crashes in the distance and the bugs hum a sleepy tune, late at night when mySelf is a blank and malleable place, when the air is heavy with intrigue, when my senses pulse with inner magnets, yes then, that is when the magic magic happens. Tonight, I breathed in a scent. His scent. A scent I hadn’t thought of in many, many moons. He came to me on a wisp of an ocean breeze, carried with intention. His or mine, I do not know. But intention, nonetheless. So I got up. Out of my cozy incubating nest to send him an email. His scent told me he needed love. He was struggling and needed love.

Everyone has a scent. Not the scent of soap or deodorant or perfume or cologne. Not even laundry detergent or the metallic spices that emerge after exercise. Those are notes, maybe, but not the entire chord. The scent I’m talking about is one’s essence, something you can sense most clearly when you are a short distance away, close enough to see with your eyes and far enough to breathe in with first, just your imagination.

Many times when I breathe in a person, my nose senses desserts—maybe a butter cream icing with a funny flavoring, or a dark chocolate mousse saturated in some sort of liquor. Other times, it finds pictures of herbs or flowers, or places...a library, a brand new Best Buy, an ancient fern-laden forest. And still, I breathe in scents that I cannot yet decipher. Not until I am once again home in my cozy nest of a bed, when that person comes to me on the back of a humid nighttime breeze do I realize what their scent really is, its essence as obvious as my own daughter’s who sleeps right beside me.
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My Wednesday Wish for You?

To return to scented imagination. You know, the nose is one of imagination’s best friends. Not the imagination that raises eyebrows and create smirks. But the imagination that creates dreams and resurrects forgotten ideas into pulsing realities, a gift we all have and at some point learned to relegate to the farthest corners of our ‘pointless’ closets. So here’s your summon. Dust it off, your forgotten imagination. Give it back some of its paint peeling medals. Those you were born with, the ones you earned on the playground in kindergarten when you made the prettiest apple pie out of sand. And when you are ready, give that imagination baton to your trusty nose, that friend that just wants to be believed in to show you things that most people never ever dream of their entire lives, a world within a world that’s only a smidgen step away.  And why?  To see, to care, to share another’s journey as you secretly wished someone else might one day share your own. The scent of Clarice tells you that she is living under an oppressive shadow in her life. Not a person, but a perspective. Steve’s citrus tang tells you first, that his view his life has begun to sour and later, that he longs for a sweeter way to be. Listen to the scents. Read them like a wizard deciphers dreams. Interpret and watch as the barriers between you and others thin to the finest of ancient parchment. See. Care. Live a life of scented imagination. For imagination doesn't just embrace the entire world, it creates it. 

17 comments:

  1. I love the line, "those are notes, maybe, but not the entire chord." I'm with on respecting the information we get about others; I see in layers too, but I hadn't thought so much about using "scent" to recognize others. As more of us are able to let down our guard and not fear how much we know, won't it be amazing, the things we can shed (once seen, witnessed). I think that kind of seeing can be a gift to the people in our orbit, just as I value too being with others who see deeply. Don't you breathe more deeply in that kind of company?

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  2. You say so many lovely things, Tania! I bask in your sight and cozy up to your ideas. Yes..yes...yes...I do soOo breathe more deeply when layers are shed and souls converse with their most honest vulnerability. I believe 2012 will bring us closer to who we are., too..if..if...we step aside and let ourSelves ride our own waves of evolution. Thank you Tania! LOVE having you here!

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  3. You have no idea how much your words inspire me, Brynne. Because of you I have honored a long time wish, which is to write--freely and from all sides of me--in my e-journal every day. Writing daily has never been the issue for me, but journaling has been. It's still a struggle, but I am hoping after a month this will become an unbreakable habit. My scent is honeysuckle. It reminds me of lazy afternoons laying under giant palm trees with my pals, Pam and Tim. Oh the trouble we got into. Thank you for reminding me... Happy New Year wonderful woman who lives too far away from me..

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  4. Yes...my dear, dear Brenda...Honeysuckle. With a lovely Southern humid air of warm golden light--green with slight washes of purple, illuminating the depth of your soul. There's some lovely icing in there, too. Not sure what flavor but I know its sugary and its creamy, melting on my happy tongue,

    I am soOo moved to hear you are journaling and that I even had a miniminimini part of that. You...one of the most heart, soul, emotion-laden beauties I have ever met. And you are right...we do live waaaaay too far from one another, my soul sis. I am ever so thankful that we have connected here, though. And one day...I will come to your reading. Yep..and I will hug you with all the love and magic of you that I have stored up over the years:) Can't wait!

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  5. Brynne, lady, your power of imagination never ceases to amaze me. I read your words and think, wow! To have a friend like you means never having to see the world in black and white--ever. I walk away from your posts determined to find beauty and magic. Your words serve to uplift my spirit, bring joy to my soul, and pep to my step. I once dated a guy in high school who reminded me of vanilla. Don't ask me why, but every time he picked me up, I was intoxicated with his vanilla scent. His mother did own a bakery, so that may have had something to do with it, but boy did he smell good! Hugs to you, sister!:)

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  6. I want that gift you have Brynne, the gift of scented imagination. How do you do it? Inspire so magically? Wait, that’s who you are, a magical soul! You can rouse the deadest dreams to life with your wonderful imagination. You add color and scent and beauty to the drabbest of scenes. Tell the truth, you’re a Muse aren’t you?

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  7. A beautiful and lovingly aromatic gift to share with your friends Brynne, thank you. Scents are memories to me, but so far, the subtler fragrances escape me. I know the scent of hair in sunlight and soft skin waking up slowly. I can't sense the scents of individuals as you describe. Would be nice though. :-)

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  8. Brynne, you are a sweetheart. Much love

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  9. Vanilla, Bella? Hmm. Was he intoxicating in a simple but luxurious way but in the end just a tad too boring for you? I love deciphering what we smell. Maybe he smelled that way to others, maybe not. Maybe it was your imagination telling you not just about him but about your relationship to him.

    And thank you for all your kind, heartfelt words, dear Bella. You never cease to make my heart sing and to encourage me to continue to share what I feel in this magical world we live in:) Love you, girl. And am soOo happy you are in my life.

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  10. You have it, Debra...I know you do. Your imagination is alive and that means it shifts and turns and can be anything you want it to be. Try it on, angel friend. Breathe in and watch pictures appear...foggy then clear. They will. They will. Standing by to hug you when you tremble with joy, my friend. OoooO....soOo love you!

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  11. Subtler fragrances escape you, John? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe you might find it easier if you breathe in less with your nose and more with those pictures you so easily see with your heart's eye. The nose...it gives the pictures depth like a fine varnish or a artist's special gold leaf. But for some...its starts with the pictures. You know...those you are soo good at.:) Thank you for your words, kind friend who lives by the sea. Always treasured. Always treasured.
    p.s. your scent is salty-spice mixed with whiskey-honey and a twist of orange.:)

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  12. "salty-spice mixed with whiskey-honey and a twist of orange.:)" Oooh, I like that. :-)I am a very visual person. I don't know if being able to see the beauty and magic in this world has made me a visual person, or if being visual, allowed me to see the magic.

    I know you love your Mexican oasis, but it is a shame we don't live closer. :-) I would love the person I would be, if we were able to relax and talk in person every day. Your ability to see and express yourself never ceases to amaze me, thanks!

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  13. I am in the throes of reading "Cutting for Stone" ... young Marion Stone has an amazing gift of scent which serves to help him diagnose any manner of disease and illness.
    Your persepctive is much more delightful! Thank you!

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  14. I am glad you like my scented imagining of you, dear John. It makes me smile so I'm happy it makes you smile, too. And of course I would LOVE to live closer to you! I just know the stories you have in you would delight me to no end!! I will smile tonight imagining the lapping of the sea in your ears, the ice in your glass and the smile on your kind face. Thank you for the magic of your words. They warm me like a smooth whiskey with a twist of orange.:)

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  15. What a great book, Astra! Thank you for reminding me of Marion's ever wise nose:) I wonder if your nose tells you secrets, too? I have a feeling it does. Maybe you just needed a little nudging to encourage it to sail a little deeper....? Nudge, nudge:) Thanks for visiting and for the smiles, dear Astra. Happy New Year! May it be filled with all you wish it to be, my friend.

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  16. Oh dear Brynne - watching the clouds coloured like goosedown roll across the sky I feel they reach out across to you and join us when I most have need of it - selfishly perhaps, but ever gratefully.

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  17. Selfishly, never, Jo. I need you too, angel Jo. We are always just a dream away...and nothing more than a giggle separates us you know..thats all...just a giggle:)

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