I assume that everything we think or feel or whatever it is our mental state is can be called a state of mind.
So, if this is true, then it would also be true that peace is a state of mind. And so is joy. So is anger or rage or sadness. So is happiness. So is love and so are the things that either soothe or confuse the soul.
It’s all a state of mind.
I believe this too.
I think about the smells that occur when walking passed a bakery. Or how about the smell of newly-mown grass at the birth of summertime?
I love these smells. I love how this entices the senses and touches the different pleasure buttons in our mind.
I’m not sure whether it is the wind or the air or the way the spring comes back. I’m not sure if it’s the changes of color in the autumn months or the way the seasons change, or how summer mornings seem a bit more gentle to the sky.
I’m not sure if there are geographical reasons or if this is all chemical or situational. But I do know there are sights and sounds, smells and touches that hit the pleasure buttons in our hearts.
I’m sure there are arguments for all the above. I’m sure there are complex and simple, psychological reasons for everything I have mentioned. However, this is not intended to be a textbook. This is not a professional account of our wired ideas or thoughts and feelings.
No, this is intended to hit the pleasure receptors in a simpler, easier and much softer way.
I do believe that our surroundings have an influence on our state of mind.
See nice things. Feel nice feelings.
Remember good smiles.
Remember great times and yes, the heart wakes up when this happens. Sometimes, not all great things leave behind the greatest marks – but in its simplest purity, love is love, beauty is beauty, and to each is a trigger, which its the pleasure zones in our soul.
There is no reason to hate someone.
There is no reason to regret everything, simply because two people spilt apart or went in different ways.
There is certainly no reason to disregard a good time, simply because two people are no longer good to (or for) each other.
And too, there is no reason to weep or mourn or forget what brought people together in the first place.
These are the greatest things we have in life – the randomness of silly little introductions.
The depth of our feelings towards the people we meet or the people we love.
This is life. This is how we know that we are really alive.
But understand something:
Nothing lives in a vacuum. I can see that now and I’m sure you can too.
Nothing lives without color or without any sort of vibrancy.
We all need life to be injected into our life.
We need this like the bees need flowers or like the winds need the earth to move.
We need a little color. We need a sunrise or a sunset. We need a full moon to shine down and we need things, like the smell from the outdoors, like the way chimneys in winter expel the smoke from a fireplace.
I have always had a special place in my heart for this smell. I have never had a fireplace. But I will – someday.
I can recall moments when the temperatures began to drop – and I could smell the wood burning from the chimneys in my town and be taken back to good times from my youth.
Here’s another example – take honeysuckle bushes for example. Or the way honeysuckle bushes smell and how they remind me of springtime and how the end of the school year was approaching.
These are good smells for me to consider.
These are smells that arouse a better state of mind.
Or take the beach for example.
I love the smell of the beach.
Or take the smell of suntan lotion. I say this for a reason because I’m not sure which brand it was, but there is a brand of lotion that had a very specific smell – and it was years later; however, I remember smelling the suntan lotion and being brought back to a moment in Southampton.
I was a young man. I was on the verge of new things, new ideas and a brand new life.
I was away from myself in many ways. I was taken out of my environment and cleansed from a problem or a social illness that pushed me into an unwanted life.
Mom had a house out east on Long Island. I was only there a few times. I was only there for a visit because my time was otherwise spoken for in a way that does not belong here, at least not in this entry.
I can remember the smells from Mom’s little house on the water. She had a small beach in her backyard.
It was beautiful and soothing to the soul.
This place was perfect for her during a time of sadness and mourning.
The house itself was small but nice and there were smells from this day which only exist in my memory.
Yet sometimes and almost always randomly too, a smell comes back to me to offer a remnant of memory.
Maybe this is Mom’s way of saying, “Don’t you worry. I remember too!”
I can tell you what happens when the smell hits.
I’ll close my eyes and breathe in through my nose. And just like that, my memory rewinds to the time when Mom had her little castle on the beach. Although brief, I was there to see it.
I cannot say that all of my best memories come without a bittersweet taste. In fact, the beauty of nostalgia is equally bittersweet – it is equally beautiful enough to bring a tear to my eye – like whenever I hear the song from Paul Anka.
This was one of Mom’s favorites.
Or there’s a song called Hotel California . . .
I remember a day, just before the sunset in the middle of summer.
I was working for The Old Man at the time. I was standing outside of one of the trucks just trying to make the day go away. I was with a crew or workers in the middle of the Bronx – and out of nowhere, the song began to play with a deep bass, loud as ever, and there was something to this.
There was something about the song and the alleged meanings behind it. There was something about the time and place because at that time, I was involved in my own battles between myself and a chemical that kills too many people – yet, it was like the song said – you can check out any time you like. But you can never leave.
I believed that way too.
I was stuck in a life that was suffocating me. There was definitely a sadness to this. Yet, there was also something beautiful to the moment – there was something amazing and nearly freeing about this.
I was standing outside of a truck, waiting to get out of work so that I could go home.
There was something about the song. Maybe it was how the sunset came down and the late-day rays of sunshine touched the side of the brownstones and the buildings in the neighborhood.
Or, maybe there was something peaceful about this because at the time and in that place, there wasn’t much of anything peaceful going on – there was only that moment where life allowed for a brief pause to notice how beautiful she is.
Sights and sounds and touches, smells and tastes.
These things can promote a better mindset. Equally, I understand that these things can degrade a better mindset, which is not my intention.
I remember when I came back home after The Old Man passed away. I remember walking into my parent’s bedroom. I saw a nightshirt that The Old Man used to wear when he was sick.
It was left exactly where The Old Man left it before going to the emergency room. It was in the exact same position. There was something about this to me, like a source of energy, as if The Old Man was somehow in the room. But of course, he wasn’t in the room.
(Or was he?)
I believe in energy. I believe what Einstein said about energy is true.
He said that energy can neither be created nor destroyed. It can only change forms. The Old Man was alive. He was real. And life takes energy; therefore, nothing about his life could ever be destroyed.
We only change forms.
I remember when I had to go to collect Mom’s things from the assisted living home after she passed.
I experienced the same type of presence
(or energy).
I could almost feel her presence but, of course, Mom was not there.
(Or was she?)
You and I are energy too. No matter where we go or where we are, the energy of what we’ve done, what we’ve seen, or what we’ve lived through is beyond measure. So, if energy can never die, then neither can any of the wonderful things that we have seen or created
(together).
Though I walk alone for the time being, and though I am sitting now, facing my computer screen in an otherwise empty place, still, I have so many different remnants of memory which I will keep in my mental storage for when I need them.
I have good things to reflect upon. I have moments that we shared which can never compare to anything else.
None of this can be manufactured or duplicated.
I can say that Robert Frost wrote it best and what he wrote is true.
He wrote, Two roads diverged in a wood. And I, I took the one less traveled by.
And that has made all the difference.
I am not typical or conventional or mediocre nor am I common or like anyone else.
Neither are you.
I have chosen the paths less traveled and some which are more commonly traveled.
I have seen amazing, and incredibly beautiful things.
I have touched, smelled, seen, tasted and experienced the best in this world.
Is there better?
I’m sure there might be better things out there. . .
But I have seen both the best and the worst to me –
And that is what’s made all of the difference
To me. . .
I wonder though –
What arouses your senses the most?
Is it a smell?
A song?
A memory from a time, a place or a thing?
I wonder where I’ll be in your heart – a thousand years from now, undying and alive because things like us will never die, at least not if I have something to say about it.
The Written Addiction 