A single line


Translucent and at times almost impossible to see, a single line exits the incense burner. When the angle hits the light above, the line can be traced up into the air where it curls and dances into a cloud of smoke. The line becomes thicker as parts of the smoke draft up while others seem weighted in the air. To think that the entire cloud was made from a single constant line. As for the scent, there are not many words in the English language to describe a scent and majority of them have to do with taste. So it remains beyond my abilities to tell you what it smells like. I open the burner to peek at how much incense is left and only a small fraction of the stick remains. The ash hangs on at the end, waiting to drop as the weight becomes heavy. A small line of orange that seems almost neon circles the stick before the dark black burning. Yet there is no fear of running out before I am done, for a packet of Ayurvedic Chakra incense remains at my side. This was the last of the Solar Plexus as I move up to the Heart. Hardly am I writing at the beginning I already began at the Sacral for the packet was missing the Root. I will have to take this journey of scents again, once I can take the complete path.

The smoke of incense is so soft a single hand can disperse the endless line and while at times I might say the smoke is grey because of the thinness looking closely it is pure white. Ever since I started writing the smoke has been leaning towards me whereas before it danced in circles.

It must be a challenge for an artist to draw the line of smoke for at one moment it is straight while a second later it twills into circles. Such a gentle line that so joyfully dances even when no music is around. It cannot be written completely or ever drawn. Even a camera would be challenged to capture it all.

The line of smoke seems almost happy to be written about. Glad to be seen. And overall as careless as air. It slowly joins with the air. It is strange how much space is in the air as the vaper line spreads into so much dimension.

One enters the childlike state of peaceful watching completely fascinated by the unexpected turns at times the smoke spreads out from being a line at times it swirls at times it is a simple line. Oh, how the master artist must have wondered how to capture the moment that is endlessly changing and ever in flux. For all their skill and study tired to capture the elegance of the drifting smoke.

I reach out my arm and place my hand in the center of the smokey line. My sense of touch is not strong enough to feel anything at all. Yet, withdrawing my hand and smelling it, shows the smoke touched me.

I am halfway through the Heart Charka. Yet, this post feels almost complete. This is something that can be stared at for hours without thinking a single word totally enraptured by how beautiful a single line can become.

I had a Professor who studied the line once and made artwork out of the line. A good assignment would have been to take a stick of incense, light it, and watch. With the right lighting, one can learn a semester of study of the properties of line, just watching the smoke rise from incense.

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