The sage stick she held in her hand flamed as she lit it, and then began to smolder. The stick was about 6 inches long and an inch in diameter, wrapped together with colorful thread. The sage twigs glowed and the smoke rose in a dance, as smoke does. The strong herb smell mingled with the air in the room and a sense of peace spread through each of us. She moved gracefully towards the door; then guided the stick around the contours of the door, watching the smoke rise towards the ceiling.
Then she walked over to a chair and slowly moved the smoldering stick of sage around it. Sometimes the smoke rose upward, sometimes it moved sideways, and she watched and noted how it moved. She lingered where the smoke pattern didn't please her. She moved from object to window, from window to door, not missing any piece of furniture or place of importance. She did this throughout the room and then throughout the house.
Finally she crushed out the burning end of the stick on the porch, and pronounced the house cleansed. This is smudging.