Every
so often, a cool summer breeze will pick up the scents of the
freshly laundered clothes that are hanging outside to dry. In
fact, there isn’t much that captures a moment as well as Downey
in the air as clothes dry outside on an April day.
Some
things… things that strike one of your senses… that can carry
you away. They just capture a moment, and can almost hypnotically
take you over. It’s not that you are necessarily trying to meditate
or daydream or zone out, but there is a trancelike way it pulls
you in.
Friend
of mine says fresh bread baking captures him all the time. If
he walks into a good bakery, he’s doomed to the bliss that results.
Another
friend speaks of her gardens in late June. She takes pride in
her yard, and has set up various areas with flowers that bloom
at different times so there is always something visually striking
from early spring until late fall. That said, in late June, for
about two weeks, all of the gardens seem to be popping with a
thick and wonderful assortment of colors. Irises and lilies and
roses and more open at the same time. (I’ve seen it, and she’s
right. The entire yard is beautiful throughout the year, but to
experience it in late June is just brilliant.)
People
love music. Some might talk about visiting a park and the sounds
of everything from children playing to geese on a lake.
I
can close my eyes and still remember the first time I ever had
a chance to pet a dolphin. Heck, I can recall every opportunity
I’ve had to pet a dolphin.
When
I was growing up there was a commercial… “Calgon, take me away.”
The idea expressed does a decent enough job of covering what we
are discussing. I believe they still use the slogan in a variety
of ways, though the ad campaign isn’t as frequent in recent decades.
I’m
not talking about things that you necessarily have to create or
force yourself into experiencing. Instead, even an accidental
exposure can set off the senses.
My
grandparents were very rarely in the kitchen together. I mean,
they never cooked at the same time. With one exception.
French
pork pies.
They
made a pork pie that was… well… a slice is Heaven on Earth to
me.
My
mother has the recipe. I have it, too, truth be told. When she
makes it, and I have a chance to take a bite, it borders on impossible
to describe. Each and every time, I’m suddenly ten years old,
sitting at a kitchen table, watching my grandparents cook.
There
are all sorts of philosophies and more built on the idea of becoming
lost in a moment. If you’re mowing the lawn, it’s the smell of
the fresh cut grass, the feeling of the lawn mower as the blades
spin, the sound of the engine, the sight of your path as you move
along, and more as you disappear into the chore and almost become
oblivious to all else around.
The
list of things that might bring you to a complete stop, wrap you
up, and transport you someplace beyond where you physically are
will be different than the list of things that can do the same
to me. But there is something to be said for wrapping yourself
in a moment. (Especially if it’s a slice of pork pie.)