My nostrils were on fire with every inhalation. The only thing saving me was the smell of sage. I don’t know if I was crying or if it was merely sweat rolling down my face. I couldn’t open my eyes either way. The chanting started. The boy who had a quit youthful voice now sounded like he aged 60 years. Suddenly the room felt bigger, not as claustrophobic. The heat and the booming voice were heavy in the air, and every worry I’ve ever had drifted up to join them. I was stuck between a heavenly place and a burning building and I couldn’t think about anything but the present moment and how to breath.