The Art of Capturing Scent — LIFE ILLUMINATED TRAVEL

First published September 23, 2010

I wish I had a machine to capture scent. Capture the sensational aroma of the massive, dazzling white lilies resting along the steps up to the chapel’s altar. One deep breath after another I drank in their intense fragrance finding myself at rest with them. Even now as I relive the moment, each inhale revives the scent in my memory and I am transported back to the tranquil, gray stone chapel once again.

A few icons of Jesus and Mary (his mother) decorate the walls—perhaps offensive to some, but even though they are not from my tradition I am not bothered. However, the homunculus Christ image makes me a giggle a little inside because 1) the word homunculus is funny to say and 2) any image of a baby with an adult man’s face ("homunculus Christ") nestled against a comparably large woman's cheek is a little comical at first no matter how reverent you are. Of course, this remains my personal opinion…hopefully no one considers that offensive! Overall, I think such experiences like this (to worship in a familiar space with unfamiliar decorations or practices) are embraced quite well at Bossey. Though more difficult for some than others, people strive to understand and respect each others’ various traditions for the sake of pursuing Christian unity. It’s a beautiful thing.

So, as I sat in my seat before the worship service began—breathing and simply being, I found myself so at peace. One deep breath, one long exhale. And again. And again. The lilies were only just placed in chapel this week and I have been savoring them each day. I must say though, because I have been so aware of them I have also recognized the change in their scent today. Their once almost overwhelmingly powerful pungent sweetness shifted—still strong, yet no longer quite as sweet and a little more...grassy. Not exactly sour, I think that is too strong a word…all I can think to say is they smell more green than white now. Haha. I am sad they are conveying signs of their end, but if they always remained I must ask myself: would I appreciate them as much as I have this week? Would I take time to acknowledge the intense affect they have on me? I can’t say for sure, but I doubt I would. For me, usually only when I am aware of the finitude of something do I come to recognize it’s imperative for me to act—to make some experience or person a priority.

So, I will try to enjoy the lilies while they last and not await their end. And, I share them with you that we might all take delight in the gift of remembering. Such a gift allows momentary events of the past to be renewed and sometimes even more richly experienced when revisited. I hope we can all remember a time we embraced the aromatic pleasure of a flower. If not, perhaps this is an opportunity to take time and stop to smell a rose or two. If not flowers, I hope we can all recall the extraordinary calm a long, deep breath brings. And, if not…or even if so, take a few moments to help yourself to one.