The scent of burning incense evokes a mixture of feelings in me. Not just a sense of serenity, but it also induces the mysterious, enigmatic and spiritual. Burning of incense reminds me of small alternative shops selling magic healing stones, tarot cards and astrology books.
But it also reminds me of home.
About a decade ago I was without a home for about 6 months. I was forced to move around, like a vagabond. Every two weeks, I had to pack my belongings into my small car and move. It was a depressive time, which I do not recall fondly.
I hated the constant change and the fact that I did not have a safe, secure place –a home- to return to. I hated the uncertainty of my situation and the helplessness of being unable to change it. But I had one thing that was constant and familiar – the burning of incense. Every time I moved to a new place, I lit the incense and the familiar scent spread around, putting my senses to ease, making each new place less estranged, making that place a home, even though only a temporary one.
Today I still enjoy this little ceremony, as it reminds me of how fleeting everything in life is and how easy we can loose the things we own and hold dear.