Nightjar

I woke up this morning, early as Mr. Z had to go to Kentucky and had me set the alarm on my phone last night. Both ringing, his and mine. a fail safe, and we were up.
I can smell the remnants of musk on my arm. I have been wearing my strange brew that I call NightJar. A tale of sorts, a vignette, an etude' ode to the whippoorwill, or something along those lines. How does one capture  that fleeting feel of a haunting tug at the soul. The feeling of being completely isolated and one with the universe all in the blink of an eye.
I think about these kinds of things all the time, as I go about my business of making intangible things tangible. Scent is the perfect vehicle for transporting contradictory madness, and in that I feel right at home.
NightJar began with a bird, an unlikely bird passing through my neck of the woods. The Whippoorwill has such a distinctive call that it cannot be mistaken for anything else. To hear it (for me) brings up all sorts of musical references. The hauntingly famous Hank Williams, I'm so Lonesome I Could Cry, or even the homage: Midnight In Montgomery by Alan Jackson. For as long as I can remember I have been able to play the Hank Williams song on my guitar, yet can barely get through it without crying myself. Some songs are like that. Some songs I can never sing, because they are too raw or tender for my soul to bear.
So I am in my lab working out the details for this new perfume NightJar. I go back and forth with the intention. I decide on one thing and then another. It is a dirty business of emotion and I am stuck. So I put it down,  and walk away, I need perspective. This is not one of those perfumes that falls fully formed into my head. This one I really have to work for. And what does that mean. Will it be better, will it have something the others do not. I have had to work for it before. I just don't know the answer. Lucky for me I discovered long ago that not knowing is ok. I can move on. I do not hold attachment to things I cannot change.
NightJar is not easy. It opens with a bundle of contradiction and confliction. An almost ugliness, that slowly evolves into a fine and delicate balance of floral notes, balsams and musk. It is like looking at a challenging painting, the immediacy evokes feelings of disgust and discomfort, yet on further examination it becomes like a beacon of truth.
Can scent do that. I believe it to be most capable.