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I usually focus my meditations on nothing in particular. I never know what will present itself or where it will land until I come out of a meditation and pick up my pen. I watched a single stick of incense burn itself out of existence. 30 minutes of ember, ash, and smoke, and somewhere outside the stillness, a thought took shape… Life can be interpreted in countless ways. Each is shaped by different perspectives. None of it is wrong. Tonight, we are the lit ends of incense. Each of us is complex in our mix of ingredients. From the moment we are lit, the clock sets the minutes to burn. We are finite in nature, and every last one of us will eventually extinguish. As we live our lives, we burn our presence just to exist. We become essence, dispersed int o our environment. We may linger a while, our scent absorbed into walls and curtains, yet every passing moment becomes ash, clinging to the burning end until it falls to dust. This meditation could be on melancholy, or it can be on deliverance. It could be fear of our own mortality, or it can be the release of it. The path to understanding what all of this is for, and finding ways to accept whatever that is, may or may not help us face the fact that the ember will burn out. The thought of it can become paralyzing. Or maybe it might be liberating. There will come a time when we no longer have to burn, just to be. I can not claim any knowing. But I will claim the search for a path that will keep me open and unafraid of no longer being. For right now, Imma simply be essence of incense. 03202510 "It Smells Like Agarwood But Burns Like Gun Powder"