32-After Burning, Before Burning Out

Sandalwood Incense from Chiayi, Taiwan

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按下打火機,或擦一根火柴,靠向香枝燃點數秒,這是一個極其短暫的靜待時間。時間不夠的話,新的灰燼便告熄滅;太多的話,一下子又燃燒太多。那或許意味著我仍然是心不在焉。直至它開始冒煙,到可以持續維持燃燒的狀態,第一陣香味繞過來,滲進我的神經,心裡平常那些連自己也毫不察覺的不安方才被稍稍鎮壓住。

沒有香的日子,生活總是欠缺了一些甚麼。

The act of lighting an incense stick with a cigarette lighter, or a match, completes in the blink of an eye. But it’s a delicate balancing act: immerse the incense in the flame for too short, it will not ignite; too long, it will burn out quickly. Failure to grasp the sweet spot indicates distraction. Only when smoke comes out of the glowing ember, and a waft of soothing aroma fills the room, does my anxiety quiet.

Life without incense just feels incomplete.

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心煩氣躁,或刮風下雨,尤其需要點香。好友到訪,或即將專注工作,大可用香先燻一回。遊歷異國,也不妨把熟悉的香枝帶進行囊,陪伴自己上路。無香,生活依然過;有香,生活則愜意一點。儲備熏香的匣子隨著歲月積存了不同味道,迎合各種情緒,或愉悅,或輕鬆、或疲憊。香雖多,也不必事事講究。情緒湧現,自會想起那個味道。

I need to light an incense especially when I’m agitated, or on rainy days. I also tend to immerse my flat in the aroma of fragrant wood before a friend comes to visit, or just before I start work. When travelling, I’d always bring along a few incense sticks – just to have something familiar as I chart unknown territories. Life goes on without incense, but the presence of its aroma certainly makes everything better. The box that keeps my incense sticks has accumulated myriads of smells – and accompanying feelings of joy, calm, or weary. When emotions come flooding in, that’s the smell that I think of – a mixture of all things.

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焚香日久,我情有獨鍾的始終是最普通而耐聞的檀香——傳統祭祀用的檀香。我家本沒有拜神傳統,此喜好該源於幼時在親戚家寄宿,清晨醒來時,睜開眼睛便是一片香煙靄靄,空中被旭日照耀得閃閃發亮的塵埃雪般紛飛。我知道有一個人點香後,留下了我和痕跡班班的老房子。我享受著片刻的安寧和溫暖。這是我頭一次意識何謂深邃的味道,即使當時仍未學懂「深邃」這個詞語。

As time goes on, my favourite remains the enduring smell of sandalwood. One of the oldest incense materials, sandalwood has been widely used in religious rituals. My family is not religious, but my love of sandalwood stems from memories of staying with our relatives: waking up to rings of smoke in a very still morning, dust shining in the sunlight. Someone had lit an incense and left me alone in the ancient house – alone to enjoy the ensuing calm and warmth of solitude. That was the first time I experienced a profound smell, though the word “profound” was beyond my vocabulary then.

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許久之後,不知道有多少靈性時刻已在飛逝年華裡丟失,按規律生活的我早上如常步出家門,準備展開按規律運行的一天,一絲檀香輕輕樸鼻而來,我精神為之一震。我追逐著香味,來到後樓梯一角,只見牆上狹縫裡尚有半根香枝在燒,升起一縷白煙。同樣地,有一個人點香後,離開了。

我默默感受這短暫的安靜,放在心裡,收好。

Years later, countless moments of spirituality like this have been lost to the remembrance of things past. Each morning has since been dictated by the rhythm of my departure for work. Occasionally, a waft of fragrant sandalwood fills my nostrils. I chase the smell to the corner of the stairs, where half an incense stick is burning in the crack in the wall. Like a memory, someone has lit an incense – and gone.

Quietly, I carry the calm in my heart.

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