Am I Going The Right Way? Is This Lemon Soap?
Practical uses of an olfactory mission statement.
This started as a signature scent. To be recognisable and prompt me of the reasons behind everyday tasks. My bigger why.
I linked a smell to my mission statement. The future metaphor for my business is a workshop. A sense of creating with what you have, integrity, labour and usefulness.
In the workshop’s backroom, on the white ceramic sink, is a bar of yellow lemon soap. Like the workshop, it has a sense of integrity. It cleans. It refreshes. A shock of citrus hitting the inside of my nose to jolt me awake. It takes me to a different place and triggers imagination. For a flash it is vivid grass green and bright sunshine yellow. Mediterranean orchards. A tablet that doesn’t cost a fortune. Nor does it make an olive soap mess all over the sink. It smells like it gets rid of bugs. A fresh start.
The original article “Why you need an olfactory mission statement.” is here.
Two months later, what’s left of the moulded bar?
The lemon soap on my desk reminds me of my vision. I sniff it in a creepy way when I’m stuck writing.
The exciting part is now using this to ask questions. Not in a Hamlet way. I just work out if what I’m doing aligns with my purpose.
Is this lemon soap?
While I’m scribbling, “Is this lemon soap?” is an easy check to capture the qualities of honesty, hard work, applying what I have, believing that I have enough, getting on with it, not procrastinating, serving a purpose, being useful, improving a situation, making it better. Lots to hold in my head. If I go through each one, I’ll start debating with myself, which of course goes nowhere. The direct closed query “Is this lemon soap?” gives me the tart choice of yes or no.
Taking it beyond the desk as I trudged up the hill from the garage, I asked myself the same question. This may have been an excuse to catch my breath, but it allows me to bring these values into other life areas. Walking uphill is definitely lemon soap. Good for me, logging the steps, listening to the birds.
It’s a path that’s been walked for centuries. Between the water mill and the church. Donkey’s carrying cheese, farm workers, stone hauled from the hills, flour from the mill. There is a sense it’s been done before, and probably with less whining. An elderly lady recounted how she had climbed this path every day up to the Town Hall where she worked. I’m not the first to take this trail. I am inspired by those who have walked before.
A path is a prior interpretation of the best way to traverse a landscape
Rebecca Solnit
Lemon soap is my interpretation of the best way to be every day. To understand as much as I am able; my peregrination.
