I stop by the altar, a haven where my worries can be put aside or, rather, put forward. I speak my mind and throw anxieties to one place. Incense calms me in a way smoking doesn’t; I’ve tried a few times. It isn’t spiritual, not in the same way other people burn incense for the dead to feed them or to honor their religion. Standing there I can suspend the belief that no one is listening. It’s probably selfish to use the altar as therapy, but I pretend incense can burn unwanted thoughts down.
