I was in a temple in Tibet, all by myself. The scent of incense drifted through the air from time to time, filling the hall and moving between the statues. It gave me a deep sense of peace. I just sat down on the temple floor, tried not to think about anything, and just sat there.
Later, I happened to meet an incense maker deep in the Himalayas. I watched how he ground the powder with water, kneaded the incense dough, and pressed it into shape. We didn’t speak. I just watched, quietly.
I brought a bundle home. When I feel restless, I light one. I watch the smoke rise, sip some tea, and close my eyes. Everything around me goes quiet. Just for a moment, it feels like I’m back in that temple hall.