Somewhere, Someone is Lighting a Stick

There’s something different about making things with your own hands.

Maybe it’s because, somewhere along the way, a little bit of the person making it becomes part of the story.

Every stick of Hippy Styx incense passes through our hands here at the farm. We fragrance it, package it, box it up and eventually send it on its way. Most of the time, that’s where our part of the story ends.

But not the incense’s.

Somewhere, someone we’ve never met opens that package. Maybe they light a stick after a long day at work. Maybe it’s burning on a porch while they have their morning coffee. Maybe they’re reading, listening to music, cleaning the house or doing absolutely nothing at all.

And every once in a while, someone sends us a picture.

There it is — one of our little black incense sticks, hundreds or thousands of miles from the place where we made it, quietly smoking away in somebody else’s life.

We’ve made a lot of incense over the years.

You might think that feeling would eventually wear off.

It hasn’t.

And we sincerely hope it never does.

- Hippy Styx