In the Book of the dead, Spell 125 represents a balance of light and dark, life and death. The compelling ceremony of weighing the deceased’s heart against a feather animate a delicate olfactory rendering of the lightness of the soul, with just a sliver of the underworld shadows.
Rise in sparkles, with the brightness of Siberian Pine. Let salt and resin lap at your skin, an ethereal cleanse, slick with wintergreen powders. A weightless shroud of lucent white ambergris lifts you. A glow of green sacra frankincense haunts you. Suspended in the lustre of ylang, you float between this world and the next.