"Before the showing, I stick a frozen apple pie in the oven."
(I suppose a quality apple-cinnamon candle could work, too.)
She capitalized on that aromatic association.
A certain brand of dusting powder will ALWAYS + INSTANTLY bring memories of my sweet-smelling Grandma back to me.
If you were to pay close attention, you might notice a felt effect as the result of having smelled something closely associated with someone you love.
We can be deeply consoled -- through our nasal passages! -- just by smelling a shirt our beloved has worn. Their pheromones can intoxicate and/or medicate us. Love's chemistry.
Aromatherapy proves itself. Scent is one of our most primal senses. I've often used it to re-enjoy wonderful memories, and even to heal or soften, hurtful ones.
It's actually forgetfulness -- of our true nature, and of who we really are -- that creates pain.
In forgetful states, we address problems and wounds with a FRACTION of the inner resources available to us. "Bad memory" may move us through a trauma, but it's not intended to move us through our lives.
In the video I linked to above, I described a memory that got activated while observing the afternoon blue sky.
It seemed to be THE BLUE that was doing the reminding.
And on a different, mescaline-free day, it happened again with dark, espresso-like brown.
Light also has a spectrum of color and intensity.
Last evening, while making dinner, I noticed a reflection in a mirror that hangs on my livingroom wall.
The reflection came from outside. It was a warm, honey-butter amber light... and when I looked further at it (again, no longer under the influence of peyote) it "took" me to an ordinary evening in my childhood...
riding in the car with my Mom driving. Our windows were down. The air was perfect. Like breezy kisses on our cheeks. That same (the original) honey-butter amber light filled an apartment complex's stairwell that we often drove past.
The light flooded a spiral, metal staircase in the complex.
I thought the spiral was exotic for Gary, and I came to love that stairwell.
In a weird way, it was like Michael Jackson -- from Gary, Indiana (own it, love it)... and more than Gary, Indiana (not geo-limited).
And later, has become now... so, UP! it pops.
The memories, so far, have all held positive and enjoyable content and context. I don't expect that will always be the case.
It seems we can have various stages of relationship with our own mind and memories.
What if your mind had been acting as a loving chaperone or guardian... shielding you from past events you were unready to face... or preserving information you needed to ripen into?
And then one day, your mind/life saw that you had been preparing and practicing... studying, failing, persisting, improving, hanging in there.
So it entrusts you with keys, to unlock attic and basement doors.
Not to burden you, but to bless you.
(Tip: You'll need to be slow and still for this. Not cranked up on the speed of life. But gently curious about, and unhurried with, packets of information YOU yourself deemed important enough, at one time, to store for later unpacking.)
So, be humble about the fact that you might not be able to summon or command this experience at-will... but if you are expectant of it, that will probably hasten its happening.
That's it.
I'm experiencing not all colors, but some particular colors and casts of light -- the ones that transfix -- as on-ramps to super-highways.
Of course, I'm not obliged to get on any of them. And when I have 'regular' things to do, like now, I can return to explore those roads later...
But it is so exciting to learn about this capacity to "journal" and document essential things, in "the cloud" of our mind.
And we can later access those essentials, with tools as graceful and elegant as color, light and attention.
@erikaharris