I’ve seen a nice place, just over there. I’ve decided to pull over, get off the rushing road and clamber over the fence just to stand in the centre of this one particular field that really speaks to me. Maybe its the way the evening light filters through the trees and the soft feathery tops of wild grasses appear so pink and golden as they wave in the breeze. The soil is alive with minerals and nutrients because the trees near the creek across the field are magnificent. A flock of birds fly overhead, chasing rain.
I love this place. I want to stay here, and put down roots and stop roaming and snatching at the phantasm of adventure and excitement and conquest and the business of battle. I deeply yearn to just sit and breathe and be still in the glorious light of this place.
Just now, after a long and difficult day, I finally feel centred and calm, deep down in the core of my being. I’m answering emails from people all across the world about my fragrances. The connections are gentle and sweet. People ask me to describe my work…
I explain that I have composed a collection of fragrances that tell my story. Each one is a scented chapter of meditation on some of life’s challenges:- the triumphs and losses.
In contrast with mainstream, commercial perfumery, some of my fragrances remain closed until… just the right moment. And then they bloom. Some of my fragrances are Sumo wrestlers. HUGE. Some of my fragrances are coy, waiting until the right conditions arise to summon forth the story within. Some fragrances take a long and winding road to deliver the heartfelt message that lives inside each bottle. Each fragrance is complex, some more than may ever be realised. Some fragrances have taken me up to 5 years to complete. Some recent compositions will not fully mature for years.
I can wait. I’ve found a beautiful place just to sit and breathe and dream. A timeless place of pure and natural wonder. Just a field on the way to … no place in particular.
-top photo the park leading to Humayan’s Tomb New Delhi TR ©2012
-this photo Coming home from Beaudesert. TR © 2010