"That is the idol you need to pay your respects to" the lady explains to my friend. My friend holds the joss sticks with two hands and bows deeply three times, she then inserts the incense into a large ceramic pit so that it's standing upright amongst the other burning offerings. Periodically, the temple staff come and clean up the burnt our joss sticks. The small temple is tucked behind Soho. Despite the size, it's busy and there's at least ten or more people paying their respects. The monks are chanting and singing, their demeanours show no emotion; they're just doing a job. My friend is directed to the main altar and she lights a larger more impressive incense, again she bows.
"Is it over?" I ask. My friend looks at me, she looks at the lady, who has already gone off to help the next person, and then my friend looks back at me "Uh, I think so. Are you sure you don't want to pray? It's supposed to be a bad year for me, it's supposed to be an equally bad year for you, too". I shrugged.
I'm a dog, in the year of a dog. I don't remember the last time it was the year of a dog. I know my age. I was 24 years old. I don't remember it being a particularly bad year; Then again, at 24 you view things through a much different lens. Sometimes I wonder if I need more spirituality in my life.
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