incensed

So up until recently, the smell of incense didn't exactly do anything for me. In fact, to me the smell was really reminiscent of a back corner mall shop, dripping with head scarves and wooden bangles. I think it's something about the incense being trapped in such a small space. It's like the smell could've been good, but then it had to spend too much time in one space coexisting with merchandise.

Now, however, my preferences have shifted dramatically. At many Buddhist (and otherwise) shrines and temples, you will find just prior to the entrance, a cauldron of sorts - usually a big brass or iron bowl, usually somewhat ornate - full of incense burning. In most cases you purchase a stick (sometimes you're just encouraged to donate), light it, and put it in the pot as an act of purification. And then you sort of scoop the smoke up into your face, thereby scooping up the good of that purification into you as you breathe it in.

Over the last four weeks, I've watched the procedure countless times. And I think it's beautiful - the smoke dancing in the bowl, the worshippers hands swirling it toward them. And I've absolutely grown to love the smell. I think part of it has to do with the fact that it has an outlet and sort of dissipates into the air, only clinging to those people or buildings near it instead of being trapped in the mall, mixing with the smells of new clothes and Chinese food under heat lamps. But mostly I think I love it because to me the smell has become Japan.

At one of the guardhouses on the Imperial Palace trail (there are several), there is always incense burning. I don't know why that particular point on the Palace grounds has incense, but I love it. It's become a part of my treasured morning ritual run, and I look forward to that ten seconds of Japan infused air every day.

And when I visit these shrines, I often walk by the swirling smoke myself, take a big armful of that incensed air, and breathe it in deep. The smell has become refreshing and familiar and beautiful.

And I'll miss it.