Looking back can serve as a means to finding common ground. Memories work in ways that precede active thought processes. For me, the scents of cinnamon and popcorn do this. I reach back to the cinnamon sugar toast I enjoyed as a child, or my dad’s stovetop popcorn he loaded into a roasting pan with four sticks of melted butter poured over the top. I feel home even before I recognize it.
When smell something that reminds you of your youth or your early home, you don’t think your way to this reminder. You feel it, a sensation that grabs you and pulls you into thoughts of comfort. Nostalgia connects you to something you may remember immediately or may sense without fully remembering.
Other senses do this too. The warmth of sunlight on your skin, the melody of a familiar song, or the taste of a dessert long forgotten can each send you to those comfortable places you might not remember that you miss. So, too, can language: the words and phrases of going back to the familiar, the safe, the places you used to take for granted. And when you return to the familiar, you start to feel a bond with others who share that connectedness to the past.