New Age, Inspirational Non-Fiction
Date Published: October 26, 2018
Publisher: Moon Books
Winner of the Pinnacle Book Achievement Award in the New Age Category for 2018!
Finalist for the Body Mind Spirit Book Awards in the New Age Category for 2018
Official Selection for the New Apple Book Award for the New Age/Mind-Body-Spirit Category for 2018
Finalist for the National Indie Excellence Award in the Body Mind Spirit Category for 2018 Spellbinding meditations on conjuring your own bliss.
Everyday Enchantments is a love letter to the magic of everyday life, the sweet moments and the profound that we often overlook in our hurry to get from one place to the next. What if we had the power to unplug from our daily hustle and bustle and conjure a more profound way of living rooted in natural mysticism?
We do. All it takes is the whispered wish for more everyday enchantment breathed onto a dandelion head. This collection of essays reminds us to escape into the ordinary, find beauty in a simple cup of tea or rereading a beloved novel—and joyfully let our world turn upside down when synchronicity strikes in the form of wrong turns down forgotten lanes and unexpected midnight conversations with the moon.
This book is a study in what it means to live deliciously, joyfully, and magically. And it’s an invitation to conjure your own bliss—-because let’s face it: we could all use a little more magic in our lives.
Excerpt:
Everyday Enchantment
ENCHANTMENT: A spell wrapped in a
noun. Three syllables. One state of being.
noun. Three syllables. One state of being.
To live with Enchantment is to see beyond
the brick and mortar that make up your home and into the magic infused within
its frame. It is made up of stories and dried bay leaves and dreams whispered
into the heads of dandelions. Of bare feet on carpeted floors and the smell of
burning sage. Crystals—amethyst, citrine, amazonite, smoky quartz—winding in and
around your books; all the better to magnify their magic. It is to peel back
the layers of your day-to-day and search for that elusive energy that winds its
way up your spine and outward into your life. Let the snake at your base
wriggle free of its coil to climb up to your shoulder blades and across your
open back. There is no room for tightly stacked discs here, just the taste of
joy when the sun licks your skin.
the brick and mortar that make up your home and into the magic infused within
its frame. It is made up of stories and dried bay leaves and dreams whispered
into the heads of dandelions. Of bare feet on carpeted floors and the smell of
burning sage. Crystals—amethyst, citrine, amazonite, smoky quartz—winding in and
around your books; all the better to magnify their magic. It is to peel back
the layers of your day-to-day and search for that elusive energy that winds its
way up your spine and outward into your life. Let the snake at your base
wriggle free of its coil to climb up to your shoulder blades and across your
open back. There is no room for tightly stacked discs here, just the taste of
joy when the sun licks your skin.
You might find it at the bottom of an
empty teacup. Your future written in soggy leaves, or in the whisper of trees,
their leaves rustling and murmuring secrets only they can understand. Sometimes they are kind enough to translate
for you—if you listen long enough. If you shower
their roots with distilled love songs and feed them the black earth from your
compost. It’s there, too, when you run your tongue along the grooves and ridges of
a well-loved sentence. It’s everywhere. Even in the spaces you think have lost hope, like the
junk drawer where you keep your faded dreams, stray screws, and half-forgotten
heartbreaks along with wine corks and a few rubber bands. They’re not lost, just
resting like seeds in the earth before they are ready to break open.
empty teacup. Your future written in soggy leaves, or in the whisper of trees,
their leaves rustling and murmuring secrets only they can understand. Sometimes they are kind enough to translate
for you—if you listen long enough. If you shower
their roots with distilled love songs and feed them the black earth from your
compost. It’s there, too, when you run your tongue along the grooves and ridges of
a well-loved sentence. It’s everywhere. Even in the spaces you think have lost hope, like the
junk drawer where you keep your faded dreams, stray screws, and half-forgotten
heartbreaks along with wine corks and a few rubber bands. They’re not lost, just
resting like seeds in the earth before they are ready to break open.
That is the first syllable.
The second is to learn from Enchantment,
to listen to Coyote's call when he plays his tricks. Coyote loves his tricks.
And you should too. What delicious messages wrapped in matted fur and a lolling
tongue! All he wants is for you to take that leap of faith when only you can
see the soft earth on the other side of the cliff. Don’t you know that you
have wings? They are just rusty from disuse. Just listen to Coyote’s long-winded
stories (he does so admire himself) and watch the flick of his tail. All he
asks is for you to trust him, even if he can’t be trusted; his lesson is real, hard as
onyx in your palm, ephemeral as the desert rain that you feel in your bones
when all you see is a cloudless sky. No weatherman can ever map the storms and
sunshine working their way across your body.
to listen to Coyote's call when he plays his tricks. Coyote loves his tricks.
And you should too. What delicious messages wrapped in matted fur and a lolling
tongue! All he wants is for you to take that leap of faith when only you can
see the soft earth on the other side of the cliff. Don’t you know that you
have wings? They are just rusty from disuse. Just listen to Coyote’s long-winded
stories (he does so admire himself) and watch the flick of his tail. All he
asks is for you to trust him, even if he can’t be trusted; his lesson is real, hard as
onyx in your palm, ephemeral as the desert rain that you feel in your bones
when all you see is a cloudless sky. No weatherman can ever map the storms and
sunshine working their way across your body.
Coyote has no room for logic, just the
reason in his unreason.
reason in his unreason.
Just those perfect coincidences set in
motion by the padding of his paws. You are raw power, he says, a
spark of the universe set in motion. And you must trust this power that is
you, that is the earth, that is the beating of your heart. A rhythmic tattoo
forever pounding out your path, however many times you try to stray from it.
All Enchantment asks is that you absorb the wisdom of the moon and the stars,
and the prophesying of the seeds burrowed deep in the dirt. Coyote is there to
make sure you listen, even when the rest of the world prefers your ears stopped
with cotton and your heart beating as slow as melting snow in winter.
motion by the padding of his paws. You are raw power, he says, a
spark of the universe set in motion. And you must trust this power that is
you, that is the earth, that is the beating of your heart. A rhythmic tattoo
forever pounding out your path, however many times you try to stray from it.
All Enchantment asks is that you absorb the wisdom of the moon and the stars,
and the prophesying of the seeds burrowed deep in the dirt. Coyote is there to
make sure you listen, even when the rest of the world prefers your ears stopped
with cotton and your heart beating as slow as melting snow in winter.
And the third syllable? To conjure. Here
you weave your spell with vowels and consonants and beeswax candles. You seal
them with pure starlight and a handful of chamomile. Then you burn away the dry
brush and the brittle ideas that don’t hold up against the moonlight. There is
no room here for literal…things or the people who think them. Not if you want to create. Not if you
want to believe that the most important part of your everyday occurs in the
moments others can too easily overlook. (Seldom can you find a person strong
enough to brave the stillness or wade into the bottomless waters of
imagination.) You make your life here, in the infinite potential of seconds and
minutes and hours unfurling into vines and roots. Because when you are looking
for everyday enchantment, it finds you. Always. And if you let it,
it will settle inside your skin and feed your soul with dreams grown ripe under
the sun’s caress. It drops
you deep down into the rich earth and forgotten caves buried between heartbeats—places that many
are too afraid to venture inside. For how can you absorb the marvelous, if you
do not recognize it reflected in yourself, feel it settle in your bones like so
much calcium?
you weave your spell with vowels and consonants and beeswax candles. You seal
them with pure starlight and a handful of chamomile. Then you burn away the dry
brush and the brittle ideas that don’t hold up against the moonlight. There is
no room here for literal…things or the people who think them. Not if you want to create. Not if you
want to believe that the most important part of your everyday occurs in the
moments others can too easily overlook. (Seldom can you find a person strong
enough to brave the stillness or wade into the bottomless waters of
imagination.) You make your life here, in the infinite potential of seconds and
minutes and hours unfurling into vines and roots. Because when you are looking
for everyday enchantment, it finds you. Always. And if you let it,
it will settle inside your skin and feed your soul with dreams grown ripe under
the sun’s caress. It drops
you deep down into the rich earth and forgotten caves buried between heartbeats—places that many
are too afraid to venture inside. For how can you absorb the marvelous, if you
do not recognize it reflected in yourself, feel it settle in your bones like so
much calcium?
That's Enchantment.
A three-syllable spell wrapped in a noun,
planted in the earth and nourished with moonlight. Let the roots stretch to the
underworld and the leaves unfurl toward the heavens. Walk across the
star-kissed bridge made of hollyhock seeds and strong will. There is your
passage into the unseen universe.
planted in the earth and nourished with moonlight. Let the roots stretch to the
underworld and the leaves unfurl toward the heavens. Walk across the
star-kissed bridge made of hollyhock seeds and strong will. There is your
passage into the unseen universe.
About the Author
Maria DeBlassie, Ph.D. is a native New Mexican mestiza blogger, award-winning writer, and educator living in the Land of Enchantment. Her blogging life started as a year-long journey to write her back into happy, healthy, and whole through daily posts about life’s simple pleasures, everyday magic, and radical self-care. That year-long experiment turned into a lifestyle, a book, a press—and her ongoing blog, Enchantment Learning & Living. She is forever looking for magic in her life and somehow always finding more than she thought was there. Find out more about Maria and conjuring everyday magic at www.mariadeblassie.com.
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Thank you for featuring my book on your blog! Here's to everyday magic!
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