I noticed, the other day, the thread of wood smoke on the breeze. Does that pull you out of whatever your reality is and plunk you down right next to a campfire like it does me?
It’s not like I stop everything I’m doing, but it sure does offer the possibility. Doesn’t it? Think about the chill in the dusk at a campsite, next to a brook, under those towering pines, and a bellyful of whatever camp dinner you dragged out of the cooler and cooked for yourself. No restaurant service out there next to the campfire. Don’t need it. Don’t want it.
There’s a smoothness, a clarity, a safety that is released in my brain by that thread of smoke passing my face. I don’t control it. Matter of fact, I bet some super-smart people have identified the part of the brain that says “you’re safe” when the nose knows.
I figure that’s why so much of spirituality has an incense connection. I’ve got piñon smoke incense burning right this very second in my study.
I feel safe.