I was looking outside the window and wondered why things looked a bit bleakly. Or rather grey. What happened to the vibrant greens in the garden? Were the windows really that filthy?
It had nothing to do with cleaning the windows, a neighbour was having a barbecue.
That happened a few years ago, this time it was different. I was lying on the sofa and trying to meditate, but a strong smell filled my nostrils. This smell of fire made it very hard for me to concentrate on my breathing, because my brains kept asking if I was sure the house was not on fire.
I really was not to blame for not focussing on what I was doing, our brains are made to respond to possible threats. This instinct goes all the way back to when we used to live in caves. Our brains were programmed to detect any danger and therefore we might respond with a similar feeling or panic when we see a spider of hear thunder. Once that part of our brain connected with that threat is activated, we are alert and in this case the smell cannot be ignored. We sense it constantly.
How different this is with nice aromas, for instance putting on aftershave or perfume. At first we think we smell lovely, but soon we forget about it. Not only because it evaporates partly, but also because by then we are used to the nice smell. There is nothing threatening about, so no need for the brain to be triggered.
Later that day, I put on some patchouli and lime body lotion. My partner apparently thought it to be a nice aroma as well. Instead of pulling me by the hair and dragging me into his cave, as his instinct as a caveman might have told him (I remember a fantastic song about something like this by Claw Boys Claw on their album Angel Bite… but I cannot recall the title), he just kept sniffing me. And telling me how good I smelled. Now what I was going to do to get back to my meditation?
Another story about patchouli: I am a pig
And a story about cavemen, I have written before: Women are not sluts, men are not cavemen
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