Stopping to Smell the Flowers

This morning’s walk has me particularly spellbound. Aside from all the aspects of Spring that grasp my Spirit so firmly... the sun glinting off a singing bunting, the glistening jewels of water from last night’s rain adorning newly greened plants... I was captured by the scents of the moment.

Olfactory triggers are some of the strongest memories we have. With my birthday being in early June, every year the Spring breezes carry a particular scent that tell me I have had the good fortune to come around once again and indeed they take me back to being that child that had such high hopes for that day. It’s always a mixture of melancholy, gratitude and hope. I am flooded with these feelings whenever the aromatic panoply of honeysuckle, lilac and various smaller tree varieties engaging in the ancient and sacred practice of reproducing themselves comes to me on wind.

As I wandered along this morning I came to a spot where, slightly off the path, there was a particularly dense stand of honeysuckle in full bloom. I made my way over to stand closer and just breathe. As I looked around it became clear to me that the spot I was standing was used last night by some deer to lie down for a time. It struck me as a slightly unusual spot for them to choose with a mind to cover and safety. Please understand I have always been one loathe to superimpose our limited human template of experience on the wisdom of any of the beings with which we share the planet. I believe that by seeing human qualities in them we rob ourselves of the opportunity to become aware of what they have to teach us from their more enlightened perspectives. However, this morning, I have to admit that in that moment standing next to the honeysuckle, I allowed myself the fantasy that perhaps the vast gulf between the existence of myself and the deer was transcended by a desire to rest right here... because of the feelings brought to us by the smell of the flowers.