Returning to Our Senses

"...now that you've tasted that the Lord is good." 1 Peter 2:2-3

Sometimes it takes an illness, a departure of some kind, to return to our senses.

And when sickness brought a fever, a clogged nose and dry mouth, it's taste that made its exit.

Suddenly, I couldn't taste my breakfast, let alone my favorite coffee afterward.

Eating felt devoid of any pleasure, of joy.

"Come back, taste!" I may have exclaimed. "I'll try to appreciate you more!" I may have promised.

My ability to taste returned (most thankfully), but the promise was still eating away at me.

Enter Mandy Naglich's book, "How to Taste: A Guide to Discovering Flavor and Savoring Life."

As an advanced Cicerone and Certified Taster, Naglich's desire is to share more about

our neglected senses of taste and smell, sharing tips from "a professional taster."

Could the book help me to taste with more appreciation,

notice sensory experiences as mindfulness opportunities,

and remind myself of the awe of our senses?

If taste is anything, it's complex. (Naglich had me at science, but I'd stay for the appreciation of the art.)

Tasting does not start and end with the tongue.

In fact, tasting involves networks of neural pathways and sensory cells communicating to the brain.

And Naglich's tips as an advanced taster whet the appetite:

Want to taste better? Stay well-hydrated, because moist mucus is essential!

Want to discern more flavor(s)? Take your time chewing, because the act allows volatile compounds to be pushed through the nasopharynx and smell receptors to create flavor.

Want to be informed? At least 80% of what we consider flavor is smell, and notably, the loss of smell is tied to malnutrition.

But the art of tasting is more than meets the mouth.

By Design, there's hope in the mix:

Pairing both variety and relaxation prime our brain to collect new positive flavor experiences.

By Design, there's healing in the mix:

Should we lose our sense of smell (and therefore taste), we can increase the size of our olfactory (smell) bulbs through practice!

And by Design, there's mystery in the mix:

Flavors are enhanced when paired with our personal collections of references and experiences.

It turns out that our perceived flavor is a blend of our feelings in the moment, sights (color, lighting), tactile sensations, sounds, and even the proximity of other aromas.

And in case we need a direct translation:

Our own uniqueness creates our own perceptions. There's no right or wrong way to feel or taste.

But there's more to the story.

Story itself augments the sensory experience. Knowing more about what we're tasting enhances our tasting.

I can actually appreciate my coffee more when I learn about the grower, how the beans are roasted, the history and the people involved, and the grower's heart.

Story. Who is the Maker? What is the Maker's history, the Maker's objective?

Taste and see the goodness of the Lord. Psalm 34:8

Something in the Psalmist's words criss-cross.

The Creator's goodness designs us with the ability to relish and enjoy as we (necessarily) nourish ourselves.

And this very design reveals the Creator's heart to allow us to find good - find God - through our senses.

How sweet is that?

But sometimes it takes an illness, a departure of some kind, to return to our senses.

In the story of the Prodigal Son, the older son remained at the Father's side, obedient and hard-working.

But the younger son ran away with his portion of the inheritance, squandered it, and found himself in unsavory and unsafe situations far away from the Father. When he came to his senses, he said, "How many of my father's hired servants have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! Luke 15:17

When he returned to his senses, the younger son was able to ask himself: "Wait; where am I? What am I doing? Who am I?" He realized that tasting and seeing life away from the Father was living on empty. There was no comparison: life with the Father was immeasurably better than any other kind of life.

Yet the older son who remained with the Father was angered by the Father's efforts to throw an extravagant homecoming for the wayward son. The fuming was real: "Why the big party for this squandering brother when I've been here - faithful - the whole time?"

Distancing ourselves from the Father happens at times. But the Father is ready to celebrate as we return to our senses as we sense His love for us.

But what about the older son's "closer" proximity to the Father? Was it something he took for granted, perhaps numbing him to the privilege of being a recipient of the Father's constant goodness?

Did they both benefit from observing the actions of themselves, and of the other?

I was surely ecstatic to have my sense of taste return!

But I realized that I tend to take my sense of taste (and other gifts) for granted until I feel what it's like

to go without.

And the parts of our story matter, whether we feel removed from goodness,

or we witness another's hardship and return to feeling good-ness.

Returning to our senses seems to require periods of departure and distance, of difference.

Naglich is on to something:

"The taste of sweetness is boosted by salt and umami," not by more sweetness.

Whether through choice or by force, by chance or by circumstance,

distance can create opportunity for a re-awakening, a realization, a recovery.

"Feel it to heal it" is a therapeutic reminder to allow all of our God-given senses to be felt, honored and validated. But it's a challenging notion when negative thoughts, feelings and behaviors drive away sense and sense-ability. And it may seem impossible when we perceive distance from the inherent goodness of our food and bodies, making it difficult to care for ourselves in kind.

Maybe the knowledge of the complexity of our sensory gifts can remind us:

this is not a God of disorder.

We are sensory beings created intricately in order to taste and see God's goodness.

Maybe the action of returning to our senses, especially when uncomfortable, is necessary.

Because we can't selectively numb feelings or senses. Numb pain, and expect a numbing of joy.

By Design, we are made to honor a rhythm of body, mind and spirit.

Returning to a rhythm of nourishment, we honor the way we are created: with daily needs.

Returning to feeling feelings, we reverence the interplay of senses that make us alive.

Returning to acknowledging life's tensions, we accept that our wants, needs, and desires

are both here and Beyond.

We are sensory beings by Design.

Could this be Good News for all of us, especially and essentially in times where we feel removed from experiencing goodness, Godness?

Tasting (the sweet, sour, bitter, salty, umami) is using all our God-given senses to experience

all the flavors of life and love.

And, as it turns out, flavor and aroma produce the strongest memories we will have in our lifetime.

Says Naglich, "If we eat without tasting, we miss all the nuances and memories of an eating experience. Appreciating (the sensory integration of flavor) makes life better, more vivid and more connected.

Tasting more fully is fullness of joy."

Returning to our senses holds space for all of our sensations to sense God's presence,

God's realness and really-here-ness.

One Son chose to distance Himself from Deity in order to feel the full human experience.

This Son was chosen to be in the mess with us.

And the most bitter and vile taste He took on?

Jesus...tasted death for everyone. Hebr. 2:9

This Son experienced the full sense of pain of suffering

while simultaneously acknowledging the presence of God,

so that we could, too.

Whoever we are, re-awakening, realizing and recovering,

as we return to our senses, it's a natural progression:

our God-given senses connect us with our given God.

And they aren't designed to stop with us.

"For we are to God the aroma of Christ..." 2 Corinthians 2:15

With all of our senses,

may we seek and find new ways to remind ourselves and others:

"I remain confident of this: I will see the Goodness of the Lord." Psalm27:13