Explosions, Chafing, and Only One Taste: Sensory Recall Game

Photo by The Walkist

I’ve always enjoyed bringing all my senses to the party.

There was a time when I lived just two miles from my office. I would walk to work from time to time. I liked to make the walk before the sun was up, before the sound of cars dominated. I would create a sensory cross-section of the path in my mind.

Here, the yucca plants hang over the sidewalk and brush me as I walk by. Here, the sound of the flora-covered creek bottom is voluminous. Over here, the sound of the empty parking lot is vacuous. Here, I can smell the Mexican sweet breads being baked. Over here, the smell of a dumpster is sweet in its own putrid way. Here, the streetlights have a yellowy-orange hue. Over here, silvery-white. On humid mornings, I can taste the salt of my sweat.

Even without the privilege of walking, I’ve always liked to do what I could to connect to a place. I used to travel south Texas for a living. In the spring, I would drive the highways with my windows down so I could smell the wildflowers in bloom.

When you consciously engage the senses, your connection to a place is strengthened. Beyond connection, consciously engaging the senses also has benefits mentally, emotionally, and physiologically.

In my recent interview with Dr.

Austin Johnson

, author of

Executive Counseling

, we talked about just that:

THE WALKIST: Do you include walking in your own mental health routine? Do you use walking as a recommended tool with your patients?

EXECUTIVE COUNSELING: Yes. One of my favorite exercises to do personally and to use as a homework assignment in therapy is to take a walk and do a simple mindfulness exercise I call “The Five Senses.” Just make note of one piece of sensory information you can from each of the five senses while out on your walk. Some senses may not make it into the picture; you may not taste much on your walk. But do what you can. It’s a simple way to ground yourself to your surroundings and help yourself be more present. When I do this, I can feel an immediate change in my posture, muscle tension, and breath rate.

TW: What a beautiful description. I actually find myself doing that at times for the pure enjoyment of the sensations. I’ll have to remember to check in with my muscles and breathing next time to see how it affects me physiologically.

In an article for

The Art of Noticing

called Sensory Scavenger Hunting, author

Rob Walker

describes a game proposed by one of his students, Xinyue Wu. In the game, the goal is to find joy in the outside world.

As a strategy for discovering joy in the everyday, Xinyue designed a Sensory Scavenger Hunt — envisioned as a series of walks or local journeys, each with a sensory goal. It combines a colorful map with a set of audio prompts. The components, in her words:

·       Find a visual that makes you happy

·       Find a scent that relaxes you

·       Find a sound that makes you smile

·       Find a texture similar to your beloved one who first comes to your mind

·       Find a taste that reminds you of your home

A short (and sweet) video for the Sensory Scavenger Hunt concept is here.

I think these approaches can also be applied retroactively to help strengthen memories of past events. To that end, I propose a game.

Tell me about one of your favorite places that you’ve visited, and list at least one piece information from each of the five senses that you can recall from being there.

I’ll go first…

When I was a kid, I can remember going to Six Flags Over Texas in Arlington. There are many smells I can recall from various corners of the park from gunpowder at the old west showdown to fried foods at the concessions stands to chlorine at the different water rides. But there was one smell that permeated the entire park and has always stuck with me – the smell of creosote tar. So much of the park involved wood construction from roller coasters to the park railroad tracks to pergolas, patios, and pavilions. Creosote tar acts as a wood preservative. Hence its use throughout the park. It’s hard to describe, and for liability’s sake, I am not recommending you go sniffing for creosote (apparently it is a carcinogen whose use has been banned). But with that said, if you’ve ever smelled an old wooden telephone pole, electric pole, or railroad tie, that distinctive, beautiful, robust smell that you’re remembering, that’s creosote tar. And that’s what Six Flags Over Texas smelled like in the late 1980s and early 1990s.

Photo by Great Adventure History

The visuals of a theme park are unforgettably colorful. I can remember the Looney Toons mascots, the brightly colored roller coasters and games, and the amazing costumes of the actors throughout the park. I remember the key-hole pictures that you peek into and hold up to the light of the sun (and I remember looking into them again years later, after seeing them safely stored in my dad’s sock drawer and thinking our fashion choices were…well…really something). The visual that has always stuck with me, though, is the architecture within the park. The buildings that line the walks are masterfully done in the style of the six epochs from Texas history. Sure, there’s a bit of show business superficiality, but the aesthetics hit all the right notes for the experience. One thing I didn’t realize as a child but can’t ignore as an adult is the fantastic walkable and connected nature of a theme park. Think about it. You park once, and you’re then on foot for the rest of the day. But you’re never too far from another building, another ride, or another place to sit down.

Screams, laughs, and screeches. Singing, clapping, splashing. Pianos in saloons, guns in the pretend old west showdown, explosions in the Batman stunt show. How can any recalling of the sounds of Six Flags possibly be limited to just a few?

Photo by Dan Dennis on Unsplash

Oh, I remember the chafed inner thighs I got from wearing tighty-whiteys and blue jeans on water rides and then walking around in damp denim the rest of the day. I remember the heat of the blacktop eventually working its way up through the soles of my shoes and the heat off of the explosions in the Batman stunt show convincing me to be impressed. I remember the wind in my face and the rattling of my bones on the Texas Giant. I remember the first touch of a steering wheel making a car react to my command (even if it only had three inches of leeway on the controlled track it was putting along). And I remember the smoothness of the metal railings in the ride lines where they had been polished to a shine by hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of other hands – hot in the sun, cool in the shade, always bright.

There’s only one taste of Six Flags, and that’s sherbet. You can take your pick of a Lemon Chill in a cup, or a Pink Thing (strawberry) on a green plastic stick in the shape of some character or another that would only be revealed after the sherbet was devoured. You can keep your funnel cakes, your burgers and fries, and your hand-dipped corny dogs. We always brought our own lunches, anyway, and ate in the picnic areas adjacent to the parking lot – that’s when you get the cool reentry stamp on the back of your hand that can only be seen under a black light. The only acceptable answer for taste is lemon or strawberry sherbet late in the evening during golden hour, and that is that.

Now, it’s your turn! Post in the comments and tell me all about memories of a favorite travel, vacation, or other experience through sensory recall. And tell me how the exercise makes you feel.

Thanks for playing. I can’t wait to read the responses!