BY PRASIDA CLARE NEWMAN
For as long as I can remember, smell has been my biggest stim.
Imagine a dry heat sauna: wood paneling, wooden benches, granite rocks. Breathe in molecules of air, feel the flatness of it all, how oxygen molecules make contact, vibrating with the energy of heat. Air currents flowing through the nasal cavity become more obvious, this dryness, the flat softness of sand.
The steam room is different: the wetness of humidity, eucalyptus mist, breathing in fat, wobbly molecules, oxygen-infused aromatic moisture heavy and proud, drops gleaming from the surfaces, blue-green-glass tiles more reflective from the sheen of water. The water, dripping, we feel expansive, like a cloud. Each carbon heavy with its double-oxygen load, steam hanging in the air — this mystery of life, how we change and become something else. Microscopic drops of water hitting the olfactory bulb. Heat dissolving water, steam rising from the floor like an affirmation of life. Smell has the power to change us. We feel lifted too, floating above it all, purified, mental toxins lifted along with physical ones.
In The Scent of Desire, Rachel Herz explains that smell developed as a way for the organism to experience the environment; a chemical sense was the first to develop. She proposes that our emotions are a feedback loop with our environment; smell is the first access point. Herz writes, “I have often wondered whether we would have emotions if we did not have a sense of smell; I smell therefore I feel?”
At the doctor’s office, I was enjoying the sparkling water machine, the fizz of carbonation hitting the nose. It is a tactile experience, picking the flavor. It feels satisfying, tapping the peach (or berry) icon. Pomegranates and blueberries, oh my! The darkness of ripe fruit, jazz Muzak in the doctor’s office seeming more poignant. This juiciness of life, we squeeze out every drop. Peach Mango adding a twist of sour, how not everything is sweet, how the contrast makes it better. After fruit-flavored fun, I was making jokes. The nurse asked, “Which IUD are you getting?” “Ladies’ choice,” I said, “like the roller rink.” She laughed. She loved my energy. Stimming improves mood — even at the doctor.
At Partner’s Coffee, I had the seasonal Block Party pour-over. Imagine trees and bark, foliage falling. Soft and mellow, fall is ending. It is not yet winter. Savor these days of decomposition, how fallen leaves provide shelter for butterflies and bees. Leaves macerating, brewed with rainwater, this coffee is fit for forest creatures.
Smoky and mellow, the last embers of a dying fire. Brooklyn is marshmallows on a stick; savor the burnt smell, charred and gooey. Apples baking, wrapped in tinfoil. Crickets and nocturnal birds, night is coming; everything is still.
Fruit steeped in brandy, chocolate, nuts. Brazil Irmas Pereire smells dark and raw, highlighting the life of fruit, how what we do matters. The miracle of coffee beans carrying the imprint of the land: altitude and rainfall. Beans bursting with messages. They are talking now — listen.
Writing can magnify the stimming experience. It increases our awareness, to put words to sensation. Lisa, the barista, almost cried when I shared my writing. She knows these coffees. My words resonated; she was feeling things. As neurodivergent people, our ability to synthesize tangible aspects of the environment is an asset. Who doesn’t want to feel more connected?
Saint Patrick’s Cathedral embodies the “smells and bells” aesthetic. Plant resins smoldering, this lingering smell of frankincense, a cathedral is another kind of sky. The smell of stone is more obvious when wet. Imagine stones in a garden, just after the rain, moisture dissolving minerals, we smell the ancient record. Stone pillars as tall as old-growth trees, incense hanging in the air like clouds, our spirit lifted to other places — what does heaven smell like? Candles burning, the aroma of hot wax, we burn too. This fire of intention, our prayers, through smell we contact our spirit. Is there any more authentic way to pray? God is not far away; They are as near as our own noses, our brain is wired for this, to make contact. Sensory experiences help us pray — the Catholics got that part right.
Herz tells us brain activity is not a one-way street. Initiating my own neural activity, by paying attention, means I know myself better. After all, my brain is me.
So perhaps the fastest way to get in touch with ourselves is to pay attention to smell. Seek out a scent experience today.
Go smell stimming, baby.
BIO: Prasida Clare Newman aims to capture the immediacy of emotions. So much of what we believe comes from the outside, but no one can tell us how something smells.
