Dr. Frederik G. Pferdt argues that smell bypasses logic to connect directly to memory and emotion, making it powerful for shaping intention. He shares a story of his daughter's custom scent (lavender, ginger, citrus) sprayed on a book's first page, which a reader called "hope" and "clarity." He proposes a daily ritual: choose a scent that evokes the energy you want, inhale through your nose, and set an intention.
Chapters
Hey, Frederik here from the rooftop of the Warsaw University Library here, beautiful garden. I wanted to read my next letter to you. So I have a question for you: What does your future smell like? I know, strange question, right? Because most of us try to think our way into the future. We see it as flying cars, clean cities, robots doing laundry. And we've been trained to picture the future as a scene, a visual. But what if the future doesn't begin in your eyes? What if it begins in your nose? What if your way forward starts with a single breath? The question: So seriously, what does your future smell like? Is it sharp like citrus, earthy like pine, alive like the ocean at sunrise? Or maybe it's still scentless, waiting to be discovered. So this isn't just poetry, it's science, it's design, And for me, it's become a small personal ritual. Two perspectives I want to share with you. First, smell isn't decoration, it's direction. We underestimate our nose. It's the only sense that skips logic and goes straight to where memory, emotion, and imagination live. That's why one breath of something familiar can bring tears to your eyes. Or teleport you to your childhood kitchen. Scent doesn't just recall the past, it can rehearse the future. When you're stuck in your head, looping on what could go wrong, pause. Inhale something grounding, energizing, or even beautiful. Shift how you feel. And how you will change what you do next. When I was in Mexico City with my daughter, we visited a museum where each photo had a wooden sphere beside it. You'd lift it, inhale, and smell the scene. A forest, a bowl of oranges, even rain. And that moment reminded me Images show us the future, but scent lets us feel it. Second perspective: This smells like hope. At a recent book signing, I did something unusual. Before picking up my pen, I reached for a tiny glass bottle. A scent my daughter created. She called it the future scent. Lavender, ginger, citrus, something earthy, and something you couldn't quite name. I sprayed it lightly on the first page. The person across from me breathed in, closed their eyes, and whispered, "This smells like hope, like clarity, like something new is possible." And I thought, Yes, that's the whole point. The future isn't something we predict, it's something we practice feeling. Sometimes it begins before the first word on a page, with a breath, a scent, a moment. So one experiment I want you to try. I call it the future scent ritual. Find a scent that stirs something in you. Lavender, cinnamon, fresh air after rain, a favorite candle, even sunscreen if summer is your happy place. And each morning before emails, before the day begins, just close your eyes. Inhale deeply, slow in, slow out through your nose. And ask yourself: What energy do I want to carry into this day? And let that scent anchor you, not to your past, but to your intention for what's next. Here's a bonus thought: In his book "Breathe" by James Nestor, he reminds us that most of us have forgotten how to breathe properly. We've become mouth breathers, especially at night, and it affects our energy, our focus, even our emotions. So nasal breathing, on the other hand, produces nitric oxide. It helps oxygen circulate, calms the nervous system, and improves sleep. And some people even gently tape their lips at night to retrain their body. It sounds odd, but studies show it actually works. So next time you wake up in the middle of the night, instead of grabbing your phone, grab a scent bottle. Spray your pillow and let your future begin again with one breath. Why this matters? We live in a world that constantly pushing— is pushing us toward urgency. But transformation doesn't start in the hustle. It begins in the inhale. Before the big ideas, before the strategy, there is a pause, a scent, a moment when something inside you says This is who I want to become. I still spray the first page of my book with my future scent that my daughter made. It's a small act, but for many, it changes everything. So tell me, if you could bottle your future, what would it smell like? Because the future isn't ahead of you, It's within you, and it starts now with your next breath.
