The Land of Patchouli

Whenever the boy and I go out, we meet the smell of patchouli.  I had smelled it on previous occasions, but have never been met with it on such frequency as when him and I attend concerts, gatherings and events across the East.  We frequent many concerts, fitting since we met at a Haiti benefit concert, and most circle around the influence of our favorite radio station, WXPN.

Sara Lee (Guthrie) & Johnny at Long's Park

Initially, I associated patchouli with hippies.  You know the kind.  No bras, dreadlocks, linen clothes, body odor, birkenstocks.  But now the scent welcomes me with a different personality – freedom, arts, character, friendliness.

I find myself being very judgmental, seemingly more lately, and it disturbs me.  The crowd around me isn’t so, and I’d like to embrace more of the free lovin’ mentality that I love about “hippies”.  Acceptance, grace, peace.  Patchouli.

No, I won’t be spritzing any on anytime soon, but why not live and be free?  The experiences that I have been blessed with, especially since Kevin’s death, have opened up my eyes and brought to me a wonderful cultural perspective.  And if that means more patchouli laced air amidst a crowd of singing, swaying, clapping folks?  Bring it on.

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