When I'm off the road, my husband and I recharge our batteries. It's a day of deep rest and connection with the spiritual, and that can be anything - going for a walk in nature, being in silence, burning incense.
I know that some people use lavender, incense, and cake as sedatives, but for me, a 'nose bath' in an old book just does something.
Better do a good deed near at home than go far away to burn incense.
I loved every second of Catholic church. I loved the sickly sweet rotting-pomegranate smells of the incense. I loved the overwrought altar, the birdbath of holy water, the votive candles; I loved that there was a poor box, the stations of the cross rendered in stained glass on the windows.
I take a baths all the time. I'll put on some music and burn some incense and just sit in the tub and think, Wow, life is great right now.
I used to wear the sweetest, gnarliest things that smelt like candy. That said, I've always burned incense - a real hippie situation - and have forever been drawn to patchouli, musk, woodsy scents and rose.
Sometimes I light incense and a candle. It's so peaceful and quiet. The steadiness of the energy and the reliability of the warmth have a calming effect.
I'm in awe of the universe, but I don't necessarily believe there's an intelligence or agent behind it. I do have a passion for the visual in religious rituals, though, even though they may be completely empty and bereft of substance. The incense is powerful and provocative, whether Buddhist or Catholic.
Woe to the generation of sons who find their censers empty of the rich incense of prayer, whose fathers have been too busy or too unbelieving to pray, and perils inexpressible and consequences untold are their unhappy heritage.
The smells are very strong on 'Game of Thrones': the incense, the fire, the heat of all the burns. The smell of Lancel's Faith Militant cloth is very thick in my nostrils right now. And I think the warmth of it all: the hard work ethics, the ambiance, the temperature of the set. There are so many sensory memories of it, which will never leave me.
