I like incense. I like incense a LOT.

One of my favorite memories is my 13th birthday. It’s one that my father didn’t forget, which was miraculous. I had decided that I wanted nothing more in the world than a deck of tarot cards. I don’t even know how I knew about tarot cards at that age, but I did. I wanted them bad. And my dad, who was in the middle of divorcing my mom and moving on with his girlfriend at the time, felt guilty enough to shell out of them that year.

So we went to a bookstore here in Atlanta called ‘The Sphinx’. It had been there for decades, and it was lovely. It was musty with old books, dusty, dark, and mysterious. I knew I was home.

What struck me the most, however, is the overwhelming scent of incense in the air. They must have burned nag champa 24/7 to have built up such a rich scent that permeated the store. In fact, it permeated everything. It scented the shelves, the books, the dusty old curtains, and even your clothes if you spent too much time there.

To me, it smelled like the arcane. It smelled like ancient knowledge that I was there to unlock. It smelled like a ritual, because everything that happened at The Sphinx was magick to my young eyes.

I still have those tarot cards, purchased so many years ago. And yes, they still smell like incense. In fact, while I do my fair share of ordering books online, or purchasing eBooks, there’s nothing quite like the scent of books purchased at an actual metaphysical store. They ALWAYS smell like nag champa. I could probably go through my bookshelves and tell you which books I purchased at a metaphysical store by scent alone.