In June or July of 2019, I went on a road trip through North Carolina. I had a few interviews lined up and spent time wandering around different cities. I stayed in Asheville, Winston-Salem, Greensboro, and Charlotte. I can’t remember which city or Air BnB it was, but the shampoo they had was the same exact brand as an ex’s shampoo (not your everyday grocery store shampoo, but some salon brand). The scent was an amazingly powerful and pleasant trigger. I can’t describe it – and that feels like a limitation of language or memory or both.
It’s early here as I start this – before 6 am on a Sunday. I just finished breakfast (eggs, waffles, bacon). The coffee is still hot. The prevailing thought, the one occupying my mental space, is that we are most alive when we are present and our senses are engaged. That joy is a type of disappearing into the world around you.
I began my morning by reading and answering a text from a woman out west. She said she pursues a lot of different interests: writing, art, music. I shared that I try to write every day, which got me to thinking about my daily fifty-two project which got me to thinking about how most of my daily observations are observations of seeing. I write about the light and the clouds and the colors, but I seldom bring in scent or sound, and only occasionally do I bring in the tactile world of temperature or weather. I don’t know if I ever address taste.
When I think of the more pleasurable times in my life or the more memorable times in my life, I feel as though most, if not all, of my senses were engaged in the experience. Even mundane things like the smell of coffee in the grocery store, have a way of pulling me into the present moment or reminding me of times when I was more attentive. In those moments of heightened presence, it’s as if my entire brain is lighting up and many of the everyday worries become secondary concerns. For me, this happens (to some extent) when I travel. It also happens when I go on extended walks. It’s happened when I’ve been in nearly all-consuming relationships. The common thread seems to be about getting lost or immersed: in a place, in my head, in a moment, or in another person.
Unfortunately, or wrongly, or naively, I have a tendency to think of awareness as being finite or requiring special circumstances. And yes, I suspect being always aware of everything all of the time would be exhausting, but I also recognize that I could do a lot more to bring awareness into my everyday life and observations of life. For most of my adult life, I wasn’t even aware of awareness. I was unconsciously unconscious. As a result of that, I can only think of a handful of instances when I had sustained periods of awareness and presence. When I was paying attention to the shampoo my girlfriend used, the way she cooked the bacon, or the way she moved – I felt hyper aware and alive. When I took long walks along the Mississippi River and smelled the honeysuckles in May or saw the waxy leaves of the magnolia trees bathed in the light of the setting sun – I felt hyper aware and alive. At a handful of concerts or dining experiences, I’ve felt aware and alive. When I’ve traveled and thrown myself into a new city or place, I’ve felt aware and alive. None of these things are grandiose, and I suspect with practice, that type of wonder and joy can become a more frequent occurrence. But maybe that’s what made those times all the more special. In those instances, I didn’t have to practice seeing and feeling and being aware, it just happened naturally. I simply melted into the moment, place, person, or surroundings.