慢慢的，把自己認回來。

有沒有一段日子，別人問什麼都答得上來，只有問到「自己想要什麼」的時候，會停頓很久？

不是忘了，而是那個聲音被壓在很下面，壓久了，連自己都聽不太見。

芳香羅文莎葉的前調很短。剛打開瓶蓋，是一股明亮的辛香，有點像橙皮加上白胡椒的氣息，但它不停在那裡，很快就往下沉。中段透著一點小茴香的感覺，在草本氣息中藏著一絲微甜，像嚼到一顆小茴香籽；再往後，是溫和的甜意與淡淡的木質。這股氣味不急躁、不猛烈，卻能讓人瞬間安靜下來，看清楚現在的位置。

它的名字，也有一段歷史。

身為馬達加斯加的特有種，當地馬拉加西語稱它為「hazomanitra」，意思是「會香的樹」。但幾十年來，它一直被和另一種植物混著賣—桉油樟 Ravintsara。同樣是樟科，同樣長在馬達加斯加，連名字都只差幾個音。資料被混著寫，名字被互相借用。

身為馬達加斯加的特有種，當地馬拉加西語稱它為「hazomanitra」，意思是「會香的樹」。但幾十年來，它一直被和另一種植物混著賣——桉油樟 Ravintsara。同樣是樟科，同樣長在馬達加斯加，連名字都只差幾個音。資料混著寫，名字互相借用。2001 年，終於有研究者把兩者正式分開來寫清楚。可是十年之後，有人再去抽查市面上標著它學名的樣本，十四瓶裡還是只有五瓶是真的。

被叫錯了那麼久，它還是它。

在那些漫長的年份裡，它沒有變成別的東西。它只是安靜地存在著，等著有人願意認真聞、認真分辨。

所以，要是走到那種找不到自己的時候，不用急著把自己叫醒。別人放在你身上的那些說法，先讓它們擱在一邊，它們並沒有真的變成你。願你在這股氣息裡，慢慢的，把自己認回來。

以香為語，安在當下。
𝘽𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩.

Slowly, recognise yourself again.

Has there been a stretch of time when every question had an answer ready, except the one about what you actually want — that one left you pausing for a long while?

It is not that it was forgotten. That voice has simply been pressed down so far, and for so long, that even you can barely hear it.

Ravensara aromatica's opening is brief. Uncap the bottle, and a bright spice appears first, something like orange peel crossed with white pepper, but it never lingers there — it sinks quickly into what follows. The middle carries a touch of fennel, a faint sweetness hidden inside the herbal note, like biting into a single fennel seed; further on, a gentle sweetness settles alongside soft wood. Nothing about this scent hurries or pushes, and yet it can bring a person still in an instant, clear enough to see exactly where they stand.

Its name carries a history of its own.

Native only to Madagascar, it is called hazomanitra in Malagasy — the tree that gives off scent. But for decades, it has been sold interchangeably with another plant entirely, Ravintsara. Both belong to the laurel family, both grow in Madagascar, and even their names differ by only a syllable. Records were written up together, and the two names borrowed from one another.

Native only to Madagascar, it is called hazomanitra in Malagasy — the tree that gives off scent. But for decades, it has been sold interchangeably with another plant entirely, Ravintsara. Both belong to the laurel family, both grow in Madagascar, and even their names differ by only a syllable. Records were written up together, names borrowed from one another. In 2001, researchers finally set the two apart in writing, clearly and for good. Yet a decade later, when someone tested bottles on the market labelled with its scientific name, only five out of fourteen turned out to be the real thing.

Called by the wrong name for so long, and it remained itself all along.

Through all those long years, it never became something else. It simply went on existing quietly, waiting for someone willing to smell it carefully, and tell it apart.

So if a time comes when you cannot find yourself, there is no need to rush to wake yourself up. Let whatever labels others have placed on you sit aside for now — they were never truly what you became. May this scent let you, slowly, recognise yourself again.

Grounded in the present, spoken through scent.
𝘽𝙚 𝙋𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩, 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙩.