I was sitting in my chair during my devotions and watching the smoke from the stick of incense I was burning next to a lit candle. Yes, Virginia, I’m a smells and bells kind of guy. A shaft of light was cutting across the coffee table from a south window and I became mesmerized by the way the smoke danced across it. It was a single strand, then a series of curls, followed by a small cloud which dissipated into the boundary of shadow to the left of the shaft. New shapes and densities evolved as I continued to watch.
I once learned that smoke was considered by the ancients to be a symbol for the creative life force inherent in the universe. Indeed, that day it was for me. Change, dissipation, new order, a constant flow of nothingness seen in the magnification of light.
I felt connected, almost informed, by the ballet of that which I could not contain or make “mine.” I could only enjoy it, experience it, savor it, smell it. It was delightful. It was enlightening. I was witness to an eternal event which has been repeated since the universe first was.
I sat in the presence of what I believe represents the almighty creative force of life. Perhaps because of my predisposition to religion, I also experienced being surrounded by love and peace and a simple joy of knowing I am connected to all that is. Or was it just so much smoke? I choose the former.