I laugh differently upside-down

I've been doing some thinking about memories today.

How is it that when we are in the moment, in the present, everything we see, touch, hear, and smell is physical and real and undeniably there, but when we have a memory, it could be as faded as can be? Or, sometimes, it's just as vivid as when it really happened, except that the picture is behind our eyes instead of in front.

The power of memory fascinates me. Certain smells just transport me. I think it's a pretty common fact nowadays that scent memories are very strong -- I've certainly had that told to me several times -- and I'm not at all skeptical.

For instance, a certain perfume takes me back to a loving old building where I learned to dance and looked up to my babysitter-mentors. Another smell of an acidy, green sort takes me to my host family's house where I rubbed this thick, greenish paste on my 40+ mosquito bites at night.

But some smells aren't even that specific -- it's a combination that creates a memory. For instance, pine, tea, and bacon sizzling is Christmas morning to me. Then there's that detergent + shampoo + bodywash + person-ness that creates the exact scent-image of a person. I know if I had my eyes closed and someone knew those scents that meant certain people to me, I could be completely fooled, because they are so closely associated to that person --- and a nose is easier to fool than eyes.

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Funny. I'm listening to a song right now from a summer camp that I attended for years, and simply the sound of the guitar in the slightly-echo-y recording room takes me back to those days of summer where friends were the point of my life and the songs we wrote were the deepest things on the planet. : )