What Happens When Our Brain Lets Us Taste Words?
"And God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light." And there was the sound of running water, the feel of the breeze on Adam’s face, the smell of the flowers, and the taste of the apple in Eve’s mouth. Thus was the world born, and thus are we born into this world, from the moment our eyes open, dazzled by the light, our nostrils filled with the scent of our mother, the sweetness of milk on our tongue, the soothing sound of the maternal voice and the warm, comforting feel of skin on skin. The universe is brought into sharp reality as we begin to perceive our surroundings through our senses. And, indeed, we are reborn into this world with every waking moment, the transition between our dreams and the cold, hard world played out as we crack open our eyes, the morning sounds of the hum of traffic or birdsong drawing us down from our slumber, back to Earth with a bump.
Consider any instant in your life, from the mundanities of your daily grind to those special, treasured moments—the smell of the nape of a loved one’s neck, or that of a freshly brewed cup of coffee; the taste of a dish that takes you straight back to childhood—a fragmentary, comfortable memory of happy times; your favorite track suddenly playing on the radio; the familiar sight of a display board on the train platform, signaling the delay of your morning train; the feel of your child’s hand in your own.
These snapshots of our lives constitute the merging of our external and internal worlds, the coming together of our memories, emotions, histories and desires, and our environment. And it is upon our senses—vision, hearing, taste, smell and touch—that we rely to perceive the reality of our world beyond our own body. These senses are our windows on reality, the conduits between our internal and external lives. They are how we absorb the outside world. Without them, we are cut off, isolated, adrift. We cannot live anything other than a virtual life, within the realms of our own minds.