I’m loving this article on engaging in the moment and putting words to things. It’s understandable that when you are in the midst of the sprint, it’s very easy to lose sight of things because you were looking ahead and not paying attention to what’s happening around you.
I especially love how the fact about the word ‘petrichor’, the earthy scent of rain having just fallen on soil after a dry spell, “you definitely knew petrichor before you knew it had a name.” We definitely did.
The observation on how wine-tasting professionals let their senses take in the scene so they could describe how every wine tastes like, is also worth noting.
I learned the word petrichor from wine nerds. They’re always scrambling to put words to subtler and subtler qualities they taste in a wine. A wine may give hints of pear, or cedar, or burnt toast. Maybe it tastes of apricot but not quite peach. Oregano but not basil.
Sommeliers—wine-tasting professionals—must learn to detect and identify hundreds of distinct aromas and notes. To train their vocabulary, they sit around tables together, tasting, spitting and comparing adjectives. They’re looking for some kind of linguistic common ground, so that two different people can connect their separate experiences and independently determine whether a wine may or may not be fairly said to contain notes of hazelnut and cilantro.
Ended with a very important note:
That recognition is the key: to really taste something, to know the experience, you have to remember that you are experiencing something.
Also reminds me of Kurt Vonnegut:
I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, ‘If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.
Must learn to notice more.