I was watching an incense burning. The dark stick slowly kissed by fire, becoming a gorgeous scent dancing in the air. The elegant, soft motions of the flowing smoke, moving in gentle spirals toward the ceiling. Almost invisible, a faint shadow. Something so ephemeral, so subtle, and yet with the power to change the ambience of a space.

Fire transforms. Rather than consuming the incense completely, it turns it into beauty — into smoke, a scent. Something we cannot touch, yet it touches us, leaving a taste on our skin, an imprint on our souls. Calming, inspiring, transporting us into another realm.

What happens to us when we burn in the fires of our lives? Sometimes it feels like all we become is ash. The pain can be unbearable. And yet I believe there is a part of us that never burns — something that can be lifted from the ashes of our lives and still shine like the brightest diamond.

When watching incense, it can seem that becoming the dancing smoke is effortless. It is not. What remains of the stick turns grey and falls away, crushing softly against the surface of the little tray. The ash is not a failure. It is the evidence of what has been released.

When we are inside the heat, it can be hard to believe anything beautiful could rise from it.

Maybe it is the same with us — we have to leave behind the parts that were too heavy to rise, the stories that cannot travel with us into the next chapter. Both the beauty of the smoke and the greyness of the ash are part of the same transformation.

We often judge ourselves for the ash we leave behind: the cracked pieces, the parts that couldn’t endure the heat. But ash is simply what is no longer needed. It is the soft grey testimony of change. Ash will find its purpose elsewhere. Everything in nature is life, just in a different form.

And the smoke… the smoke is the part of us that learns to dance. The part that turns suffering into something subtle, something fragrant, something that moves through the world with a new softness.

We fear that Fire destroys us. But maybe Fire only destroys what is not truly ours — or no longer ours. Maybe heat reveals the essential shape of who we are.

The Fire of life doesn’t test us. It reveals us — our strengths, our wounds, and our unfinished work. Some become ash for a time. Some become smoke. Some discover the diamond beneath.

Like the incense, we are not only what burns — we are also what rises.