Following a Scent-Less Path
Following a Path.
I am a big fan of finding a path and following it to see where it will lead. Sometimes it leads me just as I had hoped, to something bigger and better and other times I find myself ducking in the woods to make a new plan.
Today I seem to be ducking behind the bushes, to figure out how to regain my optimistic and positive stance, so that I can…you know…carry on. Yet currently I’m hiding, not wanting to admit just how off kilter I feel.
What path are you currently on?
Covid finds me.
This too shall pass, right? Well yeah. I mean, Covid finally found me. I can’t believe it. I mean, I really almost didn’t believe it, since I was certain that I had that special gene they mentioned that was enabling some to just skip over this deadly virus. I convinced myself that if there was a superpower to be had, I had it. We were rounding the corner on nearly 3 years and even though I had been exposed on repeat, I never got it.
Until last week, that is. Not only am I thoroughly disappointed that I don’t have a superpower that wards off Covid, but also that after 15 days since Day Zero, I am currently following a path with no scent. Hence why I feel like hiding in the bush.
I no longer have symptoms from the virus. I am a bit less energetic and am beginning to wonder when I will be excited to enjoy a meal (not just eat because it’s the right thing to do) or yearn for a workout (rather than lacing up because I said so), but not much else.
Well, there is one thing.
As soon as I felt I was returning to normal, I got up, washed all the sheets, towels and cleaned all areas that might have been exposed to my germs. I then took out my least favorite cleaning product in the house: Lysol. I like what it supposedly does. But the smell, even though clearly scented with baby powder, is horrible. And since I have a finely tuned and keen sense of smell, it’s possible it may be more offensive to me than others. Which is why I only pull it out when desperately needed. This was one of those times.
I figured I could spray quickly before leaving the house to make a quick escape. And so I begin a sweeping spray to all the chairs and couches that I can’t hose down any other way and then make it back to the kitchen to put the can away. As I shut the cabinet door, I feel confused and begin to retrace my steps. When I am back in the kitchen again, I reach for the Lysol and shake the bottle, thinking maybe it had been empty. In that second of hearing liquid whirl in the can, I realize I can no longer smell.
I find myself laughing about it, almost with joy, since I was dreading the smell. Then count my blessings that this is the worst of what Covid has left in my wake. I could still taste my food, which didn’t quite make sense to me, but I just couldn’t smell.
No big deal. What did I need this sense for anyway? It made picking up the dog’s poop bag easier. It made visiting the public restroom a breeze. And I didn’t even mind the onions my husband appeared to be cooking. Fine. I can carry on and follow this path using my sight. If I could see where I was going, how lost could I get?
Well, I was beginning to find out. Because apparently most of my daily rituals were dependent upon smells that I anticipated. Ones that I looked forward to. Ones that I had apparently given real meaning to. Ones that I was uncovering, one scent-less activity at a time.
Showering. I shower a lot. I shower to wake up, I shower to regroup, I shower to reclaim the day. I love that standing under the stream of water helps me reboot. Yet on day one of this scent-less path, I turn off the water, grab my towel and can feel my brain trying to sort out what had happened. I wonder immediately if I forgot to use the body soap and bring my arm to my nose, inhaling deeply. Nothing.
I realize this should not have been an aha moment since I had already declared this inability to smell, but what I didn’t realize was that it wasn’t just the water that helped me reboot. That it was the water combined with the scent of the soap, which I assumed was the only factor that made me believe I was in fact, clean.
I realize this sounds insane, but even with the body sponge dripping with water and soap, I did not feel my usual bounce.
Was my brain so dependent upon the scent that even though it witnessed the act of cleansing, it refused to believe it was true because I couldn’t smell it? And that it wasn’t the water running down on me that rejuvenated my spirits, but the actual smell of the soap? I had no idea, but I got out of the shower none the less. Carry on, right?
Moments later I proceed to lather myself in coconut lotion. And like another surprise, I couldn’t smell it. But this time, even seeing that my skin was clearly moisturized, I was in disbelief. Not that I couldn’t smell it, but that IT didn’t have a smell. And that was how it went. Complete disbelief.
I lit the candle that normally creates a place of calm in my office. Nothing. A light body spray in the middle of the day for a lift. Nothing. And by day 3 of this scent-less path, I was beginning to lose faith. I no longer could convince my brain that these were even real things.
That can’t be laundry detergent. It has no smell. That can’t be a scented candle. It has no smell. That can’t be body soap. It has no smell. And on and on it went.
Like I said before, I realize this is a very small consequence from a virus that has taken so many lives, but I couldn’t shake that there was more to this story than meets the eye. Or nose, if we are being specific.
Perspectives.
And so today, in search of a new perspective, I’ve been making one with my dependency on the truth and how to prove it, even with only 4 of my senses. I always thought my need to sniff food before eating was simply a habit, but now wondered if there were more to it than that.
What was I searching for? Was I certain the smell would prove whether I could eat it or not? Would it reveal whether I would like it or not? How many things did I not eat because I did not like the smell of it? And what if what my nose fancied, was different than what my taste buds liked?
I can’t stop thinking about this today and how this concept possibly extends to other areas of life. Senses that we choose to trust, while being skeptical of others. And most importantly, how are we letting these stories get in our way? I mean, there are definitely things we just need to believe, in order to carry on, so what is it that keeps our feet moving in complete darkness as long as our arms are extended?
There are so many scenarios running through my mind. The fact that I have the BRCA gene, with a possibility of developing many cancers, yet optimistically skip through my life believing I have endless time, is one that comes to mind. I believe my doctors and the research I have done, yet in spite of the high cancer risk, I somehow trust my own instincts to survive.
How about the way we judge others? Those times we say, ‘I hear him saying all the right things, but the look in his eyes, makes me think it’s not the truth.’
Why in a case like that, do we not trust the words our ears hear, yet choose to believe our eyes know better by what we see behind those words? How do we decide which sense are more reliable?
I literally don’t have the answers to these questions but am beginning to think it all boils down to what I have long come to believe.
“What we seek, we shall find.”
I can follow a scent-less path. My eyes may need to be more open at times, my ears may need to be more attentive at others. But as I take each step, I may just have to trust the process and have a little faith…that the drips from the sponge, the water from my towel and my ability to carry on…as if…will be enough. At least for today. At least for this moment.