My brother recently came back from a trip to Japan. He sent me a little package of souvenir gifts he picked up for me while he was there and one of them was a box of incense. He purchased the incense at a stall directly adjacent to a beautiful shrine he visited with an enormous buddha that was cast in bronze in three pieces and then brazed together. This same incense has been burned in this temple for centuries.
I burn incense every day and it is a ritual that I enjoy very much. I find joy in the thought that I am ritualistically filling my home with an ancient scent that has also been ritualistically burned in an ancient Japanese temple for centuries. That, to me is a beautiful thought.
Recently, my enjoyment grew. As soon as I opened the box, I thought the scent was familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Last week I put my finger on it. Before the incense is lit, it smells to me like old spice cologne. And now when I open the box and light up a stick I am transported to dating boys in high school in the nineties and I find that thought very amusing.