Smelling Memories

 I will never stop appreciating the memories that can be triggered by a smell. 

The scent of lilac reaches me and immediately I am sitting on my great-grandmother's back porch looking over the flower and vegetable gardens that covered half of the yard. Me in a folding lawn chair, my great-grandmother in a wooden rocker. Together we watched the birds, squirrels, and bees as they went about the tasks nature had assigned them.

A weekend visit to Hershey Park in Pennsylvania is an annual must do for our family. On the walkway leading to the entrance of the amusement park, I always catch a whiff of the chocolate being freshly manufactured nearby. The smell makes me think not of candy bars, but of  six-year-old me sitting at the dining room table stirring Hershey syrup into my milk.

 Hands-down, the smells of October, November, and December trigger more memories than any other time of year. 

October brings the smell of fresh-pressed apple cider that carries me to orchards lying amidst rolling hills edged with trees in their riot of fall colors. The chilly stone-walled retail shops in those orchards offered not only cider but warm-from-the-oven apple cider donuts both of which were consumed only after selecting the perfect pumpkin for the front porch.

November is the month of roasting turkeys. For me the smell takes me to Thanksgivings and my grandparent's kitchen warmed with richly-colored paneled walls, in-wall oven, and unconditional love. While the rest of the extended family hobnobbed in the living room waiting for dinner to cook, I sat in the corner of the kitchen watching the preparation of food that would soon laden the dining room table.

December brings the rich smell of freshly cut pine and a turkey repeat. That combination of smells reminds me of when  my sister and I stood in the hallway, dressed in pajamas and bathrobes, waiting for the go-ahead to rush into the living room and find what Santa had left beneath the tree. The opening of gifts was an activity requiring nourishment in the form of orange juice, hot tea, and cinnamon rolls. Those are the earliest of my Christmastime memories. The totality of Christmas memories could fill a book. I'll explore some of this memories as the season draws closer.

Donkey and Copilot

 

Picture, if you will, a recently retired couple. They are in a pickup truck at a T intersection. She is the pilot and he is the copilot.

 

Before we go further with this story, let us consider the couple had recently left the ghost town of Rhyolite, Nevada some forty miles outside of Death Valley. In other words, the town sits in the middle of nowhere. The town was born during the gold rush and grew quickly with over 2000 claims in a 30 mile radius. Alas, the town was short lived and now only the foundations of buildings and a few store fronts remain.

 

Rhyolite's ghostliness has been reinforced by the recent addition of plaster statues created by Albert Szukalski.

 

 With this is mind, let us return to the happily married in the pickup truck whose nerves are perhaps just a little on edge. They are stopped at the end of the road exiting the ghost town,  The pilot, my wife, has just confirmed there is no approaching traffic for as far as the eye can see.. At the same time her foot is leaving the brake, the copilot, me. looks up to see a donkey standing atop a rise on the opposite side of the T intersection. The copilot, taken by a fit of artistic creativity, summons his best Shrek voice and yells DONKEY.

 

It was not the best timing. My wife slammed her foot back on the brake, her head twisting left to right at superhuman speed, What? Where?   Innocently, I pointed straight ahead. Donkey. Shrek. Get it?

 

Since this blog is intended for all audiences, I cannot share what my wife said verbatim. I can say she invoked the holy trinity. Chastised, somewhat unfairly in my opinion, I made a note to keep artistic creativity out of my co-piloting responsibilities. 

Devilish Headphones

 My grandson decided to let the Devil come out for Halloween. I couldn't help but notice the headphones. Which got me to wondering what kind of music the real master of fire and brimstone would listen to when he wanted to kick up his feet and smoke a cigar or three. I think Black Sabbath would be a staple of the Devil's library. Alice Cooper is probably in there too. The Rolling Stones' Sympathy for the Devil would no doubt be part of the library for days when Beelzebub felt all his hard work was being ignored.

 Putting the Devil aside, music is - or should be - an important part of everyone's life. Music can relax us, give us a boost of energy, or heighten our romantic tendencies. Multiple studies have shown that music can have a measurable favorable effect on all aspects of our health. Music can reduce anxiety, lessen depression, lower blood pressure, and help recovery from trauma.- the list goes on. 

How does music do all of this? It actually triggers chemical responses in our bodies! Studies have shown increased production of serotonin and dopamine - two of the so called feel-good chemicals. Music can also cause an increase of adrenaline. 

Beyond triggering chemical responses, music can slow activity in the amygdala and hippocampus to reduce fear and soothe emotional trauma. Research also supports that newborns exposed to classical music tend to show higher intelligence as they grow. We made sure classical music was played in the bedrooms of our children and grandchildren and they're all brilliant. Of course I might be biased.

So the next time you're feeling out of sorts, have a heaping helping of music. Better yet, make music a part of your daily routine. If others in your household don't share your musical tastes, or preferred volume levels, take a pointed tip from the Devil and get yourself some headphones.

 

Bare Feet & Squirrels

 It seems health tips are everywhere these days. If I followed every tip that appeared in my feeds I'd have no time for anything else. So I was more than a little surprised when, at a periodic checkup, my doctor asked if I grounded myself regularly.

Since I'm into spirituality, to me grounding means eating something to ground myself in the physical realm after exploring things the logical mind refuses to accept. Since I'm currently more than a little overweight,I suspected eating more food wasn't what my doctor had in mind, so I asked for her to explain. She said my bare feet should be in direct contact with the ground on a daily basis, meaning walking out the door barefoot and standing in the grass. The purpose is to get rid of all the manmade energy my body is bombarded with every day; microwaves, cellphone carrier waves, internet data waves, the invisible connections between all my smart devices, even old fashioned radio waves. Apparently having all that static energy lingering in my body is no good for my health. Having my body in direct contact with the ground allows the static energy to drain into the earth.

So now I start my day standing barefoot in the front yard, taking deep breaths, and staring at nothing in particular, At first I imagined my neighbors whispering about the weird guy outside again. But I stopped caring when a squirrel started showing up regularly and sitting less than three feet away. Well, sitting is the wrong term because squirrels are physically incapable of being still, but you get the picture. 

 Do I feel physically healthier? The jury is still out on that. Do I feel mentally healthier? Absolutely. There's something uplifting about starting the day with bare feet, sunshine, and a twitchy squirrel.