06/23/2026
I sat for a long time at the foot of a column at Edfu.
I felt sad first. Then contemplative. Then, after a while, at peace.
The Egyptian guides at the temple recognized something in me. Not the work β me. I did not earn it. I was simply held by it.
What came back was not a new practice. It was the language of recognition for the practice I already had.
The lineage is not the recipes. The lineage is the act of recognition itself, passed forward, made daily.
The Fragrance Bar at the shop in Duncans Mills is smaller than a temple. The same care for materials. The same attention to the hours. Part of the same lineage.
This is also where the book begins β Wax & Reverence. The third letter is on the journal now.
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