Act 1 Scent 2: Sweet Tooth Compass

What is discovered, can be lost

lost /lôst/

adjective

1. something that has been taken away or cannot be retrieved

2. unable to find your way or path

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rp_z-Z6HSgo

What happens when a familiar scent is disconnected from the fabric of my childhood memory.

Personally, I hardly lose things. Even when I misplace something, I can often map and track my way back to relocating the item. Not sure if it’s a gift, but having some level of mindfulness and being detail oriented has definitely helped.

When I got covid, losing my sense of smell and taste, was a humbling wake-up call. Especially as a scent designer, being unable to smell my own candles gave me end-of-the-world vibes. Let alone one of my favorite scents from childhood, the creamy aroma of almond, I couldn’t recognize at that particular moment.

Almond (pronounced 杏仁 - hang jan) in Chinese culture refers to the aromatic kernel of the apricot pit which differs from the almond tree commonly associated with Western culture.  Lost in translation, both versions are often confused due to the linguistic blend and use of the term “almond”. A chirality to my sensory perception, I was shocked when almond milk in America was much different than the one associated with Hong Kong.

杏仁 comes in two different forms, the sweet south kernel (南杏 - naam hang) and the bitter north kernel (北杏 - bak hang). In the sweet form, it carries a silky nutty sweetness with cherry undertones; however in bitter form, it is cautioned in isolated use due to its level of toxicity which appears as a type of cyanide. When 南杏 and 北杏 are combined in Chinese medicine and soup, this soothing integration moistens your lungs and alleviates any respiratory symptoms that occur when you are under the weather.

Little by little, my hands discovered that objects were not rigidly bound within a mold. It was a form they first came in contact with, for like a kernel. But around this kernel objects branched out in all directions.

    — Jacques Lusseyran, And There Was Light

The scented kernel highlighted my identity as a first generation Asian American; an inner layer to my Cantonese heritage and culture. When we lose something as paramount as scent, how do we make up for this deficiency especially when it’s part of our adolescent memory? What vanished reminded me of the life journey of French author, Jacques Lusseyran.

Blinded at the age of 8, Jacques’s infatuation with light and how it dances all around us, became his greatest lifeline even without his vision.  During WWII, with Hitler’s rise to power, Jacques was captured and imprisoned in a concentration camp for his involvement as the voice of the French freedom fighters.  Even when he was placed in a dark small cell, he saw the darkness as a form of light that was very much alive.

Two truths: the first of these is that joy does not come from outside, for whatever happens to us is within. The second truth is that light does not come to us from without. Light is in us, even if we have no eyes.

    — Jacques Lusseyran, And There Was Light

Encountering life’s many pauses, I too was in search of my own internal light recently. Turning towards nature for calmness and clarity, I embarked on a 6-day pilgrimage along the historical Camino de Santiago (Way of St. James) through the serene Spanish landscape. From the warm spectrum of light, the rhythmic sounds of the forest, to the welcomed scent sprouting from the ground, I found myself slowly recentered; regaining a beatific perspective of self.

There is only one world. Things outside only exist if you go meet them with everything you carry in yourself. As to the things inside, you will never see them well unless you allow those outside to enter in.

    — Jacques Lusseyran, And There Was Light

The white noise pollutes our daily lives and blinds us from our own identity, much like covid was a temporary distraction from my own senses. Jacques journey taught me that life approaches you when you are fully present and able to absorb the life force that grows in you. Even when the surface level reminders lose its luster, our recollection of those moments don’t fade because they are deeply rooted within. A scented reflection once lost…

…can be rediscovered.