Winter Solstice Story Magic

This post originally appeared in my November/December 2024 newsletter.

At the start of the year, I pulled The Fool in the tarot. The message was clear: time for a new adventure. I wasn’t sure if that meant a new job, a move, or what. But I’d forgotten what a trickster the deck can be! Often, the message is more poetic than the brick-and-mortar answers that we want to ascribe to this divination tool. At any rate, this has very much been a year of trying to relearn myself and all the joys life has to offer.

Somewhere around March, I discovered what The Fool had been trying to get me to see all along. I didn’t need a location change. I didn’t need a new job or even a new haircut. What I needed was a change in perspective. I need a deeper appreciation of my life and all I’d done to make it an abundant one—and the knowledge that I could keep growing and bringing light into the spaces of my life that needed more nourishment.

The stress of the pandemic—personally and professionally—had narrowed my vision and made me tight and tense, always looking for the next battle or foe. Worse, the stories I told myself about my life got rigid and hard, like some highly-touted but thoroughly depressing piece of literary fiction…in other words, it was brittle and boring! It was time for a reset.

Enter The Fool who asked me to open my heart—and my eyes—to the wonder all around me. It was time, in other words, to rethink my story and get rid of the plot threads that weren’t doing a darn thing but bogging down my narrative flow.

There are precisely two ways to effect positive, lasting change in your life. Trust me. I’ve learned from experience. The first is through hope. I know it sounds trite, and perhaps what not many people want to hear with all the traumatic world events right now. But ACTIVE HOPE—where you firmly believe that there is a better way of being in the world and work towards that—is a powerful thing.

The second is through storytelling.

Stories give us hope. Stories give us glimpses into different lives and worlds and ways of thinking. They offer us medicine and wisdom. We find ourselves in stories—what we read, what we watch, even the stories we tell about ourselves. It should come as no surprise, then, that hope and storytelling go hand in hand.

I often ask myself, when I get stuck and my thinking gets rigid, “Is this interesting narratively?” Or, if it seems like there’s no solution to my problems, I ask, “What’s a good, generative plot twist here?”

This helps me get perspective and space from the doom and gloom that’s easy to sink into when old ghosts and negativity come knocking on my door. I wonder…is it interesting to be consumed by that darkness and end up like a long-suffering protagonist in a dry-as-dust but supposedly “brilliant” literary treatise on human suffering? No, not really.

I’m no stranger to the lure of darkness, but I’d much rather be a gothic heroine!

So here is another, more interesting narrative path: Take a beeswax candle. They are the best for warding off negativity and purifying the air, after all. Set it in an old brass candle holder. Light it. And use it to find your way down that darkened corridor beyond your door. Ideally, you should be wearing a long, flowing white gown, though you need not necessarily run through this haunted house.

Brave the darkness, certainly. Face those ghosts. But do not let them consume you. And for goodness sake, keep your heart open to brooding strangers with a mysterious past and a future that is as bright and loving as the one you wish to conjure for yourself. What is a story without romance? A boring one, and as my familiars will tell you, we simply don’t have time for boring.

Sound foolish? Perhaps. But The Fool says there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, we both think getting a little foolish now and then is a marvelous idea!

That’s why I’m indulging now in one of my favorite holiday pastimes: immersing myself in the world of storytelling. When the world seems dark and the way forward unclear, I sink into the realm of the imagination, a place where archetypal energies and mystic forces are always at work, showing us a more profound way of working magic in the world. Stories take us beyond the dust and build-up of everyday living and remind us that there is wonder all around us, endless possibilities, if we stay open and curious, like The Fool.

So this holiday season, whatever you celebrate and however you celebrate, may you leave room for stories that terrify and shock, that heal and cleanse, that revitalize and inspire. Indulge in the Christmas tradition of reading ghost stories. Find yourself in terrifying folklore and mistletoe-strewn romances. Revisit old friends (a Lord of the Rings trilogy marathon or a rewatch of The Holiday, anyone?) and find new ones (do yourself a favor and go see Wicked—I promise it is the magic we all need right now!). May you leave room for hope and light on these darkest nights, as well as good stories. Above all, tend your own story—what wild and vibrant plot twists would you wish for yourself in the coming months? Invoke that Main Character Energy! It’s all The Fool asks of us.

I will see you in the new year for more magic-making, tarot know-how, and bookish enchantments. Until then, remember, true magic is in the everyday…and a good story!

Image of a cozy reading nook with festive winter decor framed by a window that overlooks a snowy landscape. A book is open across a warm blanket.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday fantasy, and absolutely delectable recipes that will guarantee to stir the kitchen witch in you.  If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is the everyday, subscribe here.

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Let’s Get Spooky!

This post originally appeared in my October 2024 newsletter.

As I sit here writing this, it is a cozy fall evening, perhaps one of the first truly chilly nights of the season. The wind whistles and scatters dried red, yellow, and orange leaves, and shadows grow longer under the fading light.

Inside?

Autumn twinkle lights offer a soft glow to write by while old black-and-white horror movies play in the background. Whisigothic decor (and some Halloween decorations too!) fills my home with a sense of magic. The kettle whistles in the kitchen, and a lazy pumpkin-spice cloud wafts from my jack-o-lantern mug. And two sleek black cats snooze nearby.

Readers, we are the picture of spooky autumnal coziness.

That, however, was not the case just a few nights ago when I decided to go to my first haunted house. You see, I had been feeling brave. I’d spent the last few years watching iconic horror movies each October, finding again and again that they were never as scary as I’d imagined them to be. I’d been reading horror books, too, and enjoyed every minute of it. In fact, I found that the idea of these stories was often scarier to me than the actual story. While these terrible tales could be creepy or chilling or even downright terrifying, I always made my way through them all the better for having read or watched them.

All this to say that I felt VERY proud of myself for facing the things that once scared me and realizing that they weren’t all that scary. In fact, I was feeling downright smug about it!

Too smug, as it turned out.

It was with this deep sense of what I now know was overconfidence that I decided to try my first haunted house. I was offered free tickets, after all, and had a sister who was willing to brave the unknown with me.

The Universe was providing me with an opportunity to try something that might have been too much for me Once Upon a Time. I wasn’t such a big old scaredy cat anymore. Sure, the promo images for the event looked chilling, but I’d seen scarier images in some of the movies I’d watched. And I knew it wasn’t real, so…

How bad could it be?

Spoken like the protagonist in a horror movie right before she promises to spend the night in a haunted house. Nothing bad will happen if you stay in an old home that only a bunch of superstitious townsfolk think is haunted, right? The one where a bunch of people fifty years ago disappeared under mysterious circumstances, their bodies never found, right?!?! RIGHT?!?!?!?!

At any rate, I couldn’t back out after I invited my sister and told everyone I was going. I have a goth reputation to uphold, after all. Like any traumatic experience, much of it is now a blur. What I can tell you about that harrowing event was that a certain amount of (liquid) courage was required to enter that haunted house. But enter we did, into the swirling fog, where all manner of things lurked in the shadows.

There were screams (mine). Dark maze-like corridors to navigate. Panic (also mine). Ghosts and ghouls and all sorts of monsters to run from. Believe me when I tell you it was not for the faint of heart!

I learned something about myself that night: I AM STILL A SCAREDY CAT.

But I also can’t help myself. I will always be drawn to the gothic, the unknown, and terrifying things that go bump in the night. And that’s okay. Healthy, even.

After we made it through the terrifying haunted house and ran to the safety of the well-lit street, my sister and I both felt strangely cleansed. Okay, our hearts were still racing, and we were out of breath from dodging monsters and running through torture chambers. But we were also relaxed.

There was the rush of having faced something we’d both built up in our heads (hence the liquid courage), doing the thing that scared us, and coming out the other side (mostly) intact.

We survived!

It was truly a terrible delight to be frightened out of our wits and then leave it all at the door of the haunted house. There, in the moonlight and crisp air, was a fresh start and a clear mind.

That feeling is what makes me venture deeper into the world of horror, even as I am, and always will be, a scaredy cat. There’s something incredibly empowering about looking at the things that scare you—especially the ones that have followed you since childhood—and laying them to rest. They may never stop scaring you, but at least you know, when old ghosts stir in the night, you can face them and be the better for bringing them into the light.

That’s the power of horror stories: They shock us! They terrify us! They make us face our fears so we can put things into perspective, heal what needs to be healed, and exorcise the demons and spirits that have tried to hold us captive.

That’s the beauty of spooky season. It makes us eager to look at the things we normally confine to the shadows of our minds the rest of the year. Now, in the cozy warmth of my home, a large pumpkin on the kitchen table waiting to be carved, I feel brave again. Brave enough to consider going through that haunted house again next year.

Maybe.

As a special treat, in honor of spooky season, I’m offering up free copies of Hungry Business and Weep, Woman, Weep through Dia de Los Muertos. May they bring you chills, thrills, and delightful exorcisms!

Image of a dark and stormy night with a haunted house in the foreground.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday fantasy, and absolutely delectable recipes that will guarantee to stir the kitchen witch in you.  If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is the everyday, subscribe here.

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Meg Ryan Fall

This post originally appeared in my September 2024 newsletter.

Every time the fall term rolls around, I’m compelled to do several things: start drinking apple cinnamon tea, put up cheesy autumnal decorations, and sharpen a bunch of pencils like I’m Kathleen Kelly in You’ve Got Mail, even though the majority of my “school work” is digital now.

My head is filled with fanciful visions of wearing cute autumnal outfits while strolling through The Big City, clutching my newly purchased pumpkin or a pumpkin spice latte (or a tall, skim, caramel macchiato in Kathleen Kelly’s case). In fact, when I’m not going full goth, my seasonal vibes are straight-up Main Character in a Romantic Comedy. (This is true for the rest of the year, too, especially when I’m teaching my class on romantic comedies like I am this term.)

Sure, I love my spooky stuff, and the way the last third of the year just seems made for cozy gothic vibes. But there’s another part of me that absolutely delights in the nostalgic comfort that can only be described as Autumn in (RomCom) New York. I guess it’s because I’ve watched When Harry Met Sally and You’ve Got Mail on repeat at a formative age. As a teen and early 20-something, these movies were the height of Adult Sophistication, and Meg Ryan was the aspirational working woman with a strong sense of style and a soft warmth that feels almost radical today when so many narratives about women in mainstream media often treat us as flat characters catering to the male gaze.

So often, we are forced into stereotypes of Uptight Boss Ladies, Manic Pixie Dream Girls, or Sexy Vixens. Meg Ryan, instead, portrayed characters who were both competent professionals and women searching for love, confident in who they were and yet only human in their insecurities, strong in their opinions and soft in their care for others. Her characters were, in other words, real women who contained multitudes while also looking autumnally stylish AF. What’s not to love?

As it turns out, I’m not alone in this. I was today years old when I discovered there is such a thing as Meg Ryan Fall. It revolves around her iconic roles in When Harry Met Sally, You’ve Got Mail, and Sleepless in Seattle. These movies capture the seasonal beauty of The Big City, the ephemeral joy of season’s change, and all the cozy things that come with it, like walking through Central Park on an autumn day or attending a neighborhood fall festival, and maybe meeting your soul mate on the Empire State Building or in a rival bookshop. These movies are also very much stories about loving the city you live in, from the neighborhood coffee shop to your local grocery store and, yes, your favorite bookstore. 

Although there are valid critiques of Meg Ryan Fall as just being another iteration of White (Christian) Girl Autumn or a way for the internet to further commodify a nostalgia-tinted past, I think the real appeal of Meg Ryan Fall is that it connects us to the “valuable, but small” parts of our lives, all the “nothings” that actually mean something, to poorly quote a few lines from You’ve Got Mail. In other words, the dailiness of life—from checking your inbox to grabbing a cup of coffee—becomes magical when we realize that these tasks and routines that we often take for granted actually bring meaning to our lives. It’s those chance encounters with an old acquaintance that suddenly leads to something more—or the hope for something more that ushers in gentle change.

Just as spooky stories connect us to the hidden parts of ourselves and the universe, Meg Ryan Fall reminds us that life can be soft and romantic. This sentiment feels especially true after the pandemic as I’ve struggled to release the fight-or-flight mode I was in for most of that time and to embrace the fact that life can be cozy and gentle if we let it. 

There is nothing I missed more during the pandemic than these mundane “nothings” that I absolutely took for granted before going into lockdown. The weekly trips to the grocery store. Chatting with people as we stand in line at the coffee shop. Bumping into friends at a local restaurant or making new ones. Reading a book on a sidewalk cafe on a sunny autumn afternoon. People watching at the park. These moments connect us to something deeper than ourselves and that never-ending to-do list. They are a reminder of our basic humanity and interconnectedness. 

Most of these films were made before the internet really took off and before iPhones were commonplace. You’ve Got Mail signals the dawn of a new technological era in which our communication landscape fundamentally changes. Even then, however, the film has a way of making the World Wide Web feel quaint with its story of secret digital penpals. The Internet is just another cozy neighborhood space where chance encounters can lead to the kind of love that is simply meant to be. Meg Ryan Fall asks—no BEGS—us to put our phones away, slow down, and really be part of our neighborhood. To plug into our lives more than we plug into social media. To be present and aware of the ephemeral joy of the season’s change. To connect, not through dial-up, but through being at home in our small corners of the world.

Yes, the idea of modeling your fall vibes after Meg Ryan’s iconic romantic comedy roles is cheesy. That’s kind of the point. After the trauma and stress of the pandemic and figuring out how to live in a post-pandemic world, Meg Ryan Fall invites us to be a little silly, a little frivolous, and a little playful. Play, I’m learning, is our way of signaling to the universe that we are ready for some unexpected magic. So, this fall, I’m going all in as I relish the autumnal glory of my city and the cozy camaraderie of my local neighborhood haunts.

If you’re looking for a little more enchantment in your autumn, too, I’d encourage you to find a moment or two in your day that makes you feel like Kathleen Kelly walking through her neighborhood on a sunny fall day while the Cranberries croon “Dreams” overhead. Or don your most dapper hat and sweater combo and take a city stroll to leaf peep. See what lighthearted magic comes from it!

Image of Meg Ryan as Kathleen Kelly from You’ve Got Mail walking down a path surrounded by autumnal trees.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday fantasy, and absolutely delectable recipes that will guarantee to stir the kitchen witch in you.  If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is the everyday, subscribe here.

Want even more inspiration to make your dream life a reality?  Follow me on Facebook, Pinterest, and  Instagram.  Thanks for following!

Summer Monsoons & Gothic Romances

This post originally appeared in my July/August 2024 newsletter.

You know you’re a desert woman when you get inordinately excited about thick clouds rolling across the sky on a late summer’s day, promising rain and blessed relief from the blistering heat of the day. Is there anything more exciting than thunder and lightning serenading you to sleep?

We’ve had better monsoons this season than in years past, which fills me (and my garden) with gratitude. I can see the clouds rolling in over the Sandia mountains as I write this. They are dark and heavy, which always means rain—and sometimes rainbows. 

I love the rains, you see, not just because they give the land much-needed moisture and make our desert summers more bearable, but because these storms provide the perfect symphony for one of my favorite pastimes: reading gothic novels late into the night. 

There’s nothing more satisfying than curling up in bed with a gothic romance while the window panes rattle, the thunder rumbles, and lightning flashes. The rain outside mirrors the angst on the page, which is fitting, given how often these pulpy tales rely on the pathetic fallacy to highlight the inner turmoil of their characters.

It’s always been cathartic to read books about darker aspects of human nature and all the difficult things Polite Society does not want to discuss or express. That’s what gothic romances do—they pop out heightened emotions, shine a light on things lurking in the dark corners of our minds and homes, and remind us that for all our belief that we are rational, enlightened beings, we are also ruled by desire, emotions, the mystic, and a myriad of other unseen forces that propel us forward in our lives. Juicy stuff!

I’ve been enjoying diving into Phyllis A. Whitney lately. Often considered the mother of American gothic romance, she actually prefers the term “romantic suspense.” Still, the works I’ve read so far have each had a decidedly supernatural twist in one way or another, so it’s hard not to think of her as a gothic writer. The reading is all the more enjoyable because I’ve collected quite a stash of her older paperbacks. The ones with the lurid covers, naturally. Those covers somehow make the stories better.

As I savor these books while the rain and wind sing their wild song outside my door, I feel a deep connection to humanity, to the parts of us that are always striving, longing, and searching for more. A good gothic novel, ideally read during a dark and stormy night, reminds us that the world is full of strange and wonderful things and that even the most mundane of settings—domesticity—can be full of intrigue and passion.

They serve as a promise that even if our lives seem utterly ordinary, there is always an interesting plot to follow if we tune into the magic all around us. At the very least, the make us appreciate a good storm!

Image of a gathering storm.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday fantasy, and absolutely delectable recipes that will guarantee to stir the kitchen witch in you.  If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is the everyday, subscribe here.

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Solstice Sun Magic

This post originally appeared in my June 2024 newsletter.

Confession time: I’m one of those witches that will take a day-long celebration and turn it into a week. Birthdays, holidays, Impromptu Excitement such as…Yay! I got my manuscript done! Or, Yay! It’s Tuesday! Tuesdays, after all, can be quite lovely days…the joy of them deserve to be savored. As for Halloween? It’s a SEASON that runs 365 days a year, but you already know that about me.

I’ll let you in on another little secret: Even in the heart of winter, the Summer Solstice is always with me. I’ve been marinating on this fact as I’ve celebrated the longest day of the year, not just on Wednesday but in the days leading up to it, and will do so in the days that follow. 

I extend my celebrations because I think it’s important not to be finite with our joy. I also think that, in light of the pandemic, it’s more necessary than ever to find happiness when and where we can, in each moment of the day. It can be easy to close off and shut down after the seemingly endless trauma of the past few years, but it’s important to remember that life goes on, and while we might not want to blithely return to normal, we do want to find a way forward, a way to harmony and—dare I say it?—exuberance to greet each day as a new adventure. 

I’m reminded of the Sun card in the tarot, which is the epitome of Big Summer Solstice Energy. It comes to us when we need hope, to remember that joy is an incredible healer. Upright or Reversed, it’s always a good card to get. In fact, it’s considered the most positive card in the deck, and for good reason.

It tells you to lighten up!

Relax, it says, know that the hard times are over. It’s also an important reminder that you are magic—this light luscious feeling of the Summer Solstice? It’s always inside you, even when you’re experiencing the darkest part of winter.

So when I find myself fighting waves of winter—the heaviness, disorientation, stagnation that comes with finding my way in the world again—the Sun calls to me and reminds me that there is an eternal fire inside me. 

The Sun does the deeper work, too, of casting light on the shadows—of our minds, of our hearts, of the things in our lives that need to be brought to light so that we can work through them and move forward with lighter hearts. Sometimes, we need a loving gaze to show us that we are strong enough to face what we need to, wise enough to learn from these revelations, and 

I’ve been marinating on the Sun card as I’m relearning the art of joy this summer. 

I’m allowing myself to move at a slower place…which means I might be as productive as I’d planned, but, as I’ve learned from years of teaching and writing, the important stuff always gets done. In the summer, I have the luxury of prioritizing all the things that fall to the wayside come mid-semester, and it’s important to savor that ability, as anyone who lives by the academic calendar can relate to. 

So instead of pushing myself to squeeze in more work or crank out one more project—more heavy winter energy I’m working through as I allow my mind and heart to be more expansive post-pandemic—I throw open the windows and doors to let the fresh air and light in. I light beeswax candles and harvest lemon balm and lemon verbena from my garden, both of which are the ultimate happiness herbs.

On the solstice, I cleaned my home and washed my floors down with vinegar and lemongrass essential oils. I set my bed with lilac-scented sheets and swept the dust from my bookshelves and mind. I chatted with my plants as I watered and pruned them. Then I went to converse with my tarot and see what the Sun had to tell me—the card before it is what I need to leave to the past, the card after, my future.

Today, I puttered in the kitchen and played with herbs, filling a mason jar with wildflowers for my kitchen table and writing desk. I pickled fennel. I steeped lemon balm and tulsi in cold water for a refreshing and soothing beverage. I listened to stories that made me feel bold and magical.

I lingered with my own stories.

I let them whisper their secrets to me so that I may better know myself and live their epiphanies out in my daily life.

Now, I let the honeyed balm of the season coat my skin and my thoughts. I surrender to the long, light-filled days, to the uncertainty, to the soft, yielding yes energy of summer.

And, in all this, I let the sun warm my body, my mind, my heart, a soft, sweet reminder that life can be joyful if we only, like sunflowers, turn our gaze to the sky.

Image of a blue sky with a radiant sun. In the center is The Sun card of the tarot with the Wheel of Fortune and The World cards behind it.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday fantasy, and absolutely delectable recipes that will guarantee to stir the kitchen witch in you.  If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is the everyday, subscribe here.

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What To Do When You Feel Small…

Go big. Unfurl and take up all the space you can, like a seed cracking open and spreading ragged roots into the earth and green tendrils to the sky. Be loud like the morning finch — he may be tiny, but he has a voice that can reach the heavens and a golden chest filled with sunlight. 

Don’t be afraid of what your song can do.

And when you are no longer scared of a pair of air-filled lungs and the spell they breath to life, go bigger than that.

Spread your arms wide and hold the Universe close. Find your story in the constellations that map our histories — what was, what is, what will be. Surely, your fate is written somewhere between the Big and Little Dippers. You have to become a giant if you want to reach those pin-pricks of light. They may have the answers you need, so you must risk expansiveness.

But that’s the catch: Sometimes your body has forgotten how to stretch.

What do you do then?

If you don’t know how to go big, go even smaller than you feel, so far inside yourself that you forget the outside world and instead make your home inside a four-chambered heart — don’t leave until you remember what it means to be a living, breathing being. Find yourself in the thump-thump of muscle and wet walls squeezing you tight.

When you feel even smaller than that, talk to the smallest thing you know. I asked a ladybug once how she felt about being no bigger than a sunflower seed. She just opened her polka-dotted wings and took flight. I knew what she was saying. She might be small, but she is red and fierce, and everyone knows who she is when she lands on their fingertips. You’d think she was being snippy, but I knew she was just stating a fact. Not that she cared much, either, if she were mistaken for a button or a bead. Her hard-shelled wings protected her from the inhumanity of indifference.

I talked to an elephant once, too, just to understand what it meant to be big. He didn’t seem to know he was a giant of an animal. By elephant standards, he was medium-sized, and, well, he didn’t spend much time thinking about those things when he could fill his mind with peanuts and hay and stories everyone else forgot. 

Those lost memories were so powerful, he told me, so much larger than him that it didn’t much matter what size he was. I told him he might think he wasn’t much to look at, but he sure had big, beautiful ears, and he blushed at that. I knew he wouldn’t forget me, the same way I knew I’d always remember the time I made an elephant’s cheeks go red. 

In fact, that average elephant with his gloriously large ears got me thinking about all the things I’d overlooked, all the things I’d never taken the time to listen to. So I spent some time with forgotten things and, though my ears are no bigger than tulip heads, I let them take in the whispers and quiet songs of the things we fail to notice as we go about life.

Take the plant called borage. An uncharitable name for a starflower. Does she care? Does it stop her from blooming violet and yellow flowers and making the earth around her sing with life? The bees don’t forget her, even if others can’t name her by sight. The hummingbird can’t get enough of her nectar, and so she makes more and more for him, eager to feel his tongue against her petals. There is beauty in the forgotten. Such freedom in being overlooked. So many things you can say and do when you learn the art of invisibility. Without it, she would have never known the hummingbird’s kiss.

So long as you know how to find yourself, she tells me, that is all that matters. So long as you give your attention to those who deserve it. Where do you think all her nectar comes from? The bees and the hummingbird fill her with pollen and the sky showers her in sunlight. It is their secret dance and it is enough that only they share it.

To everyone else, she is just another plant. To them? Divinity. 

She plucks one of her violet flowers from her green, furry body and presses it against my tongue. I am grateful for her story and suddenly feel full and sweet. I wondered if this is how she feels when the bees settle in her center.

That night, I dreamt I found the constellation with my story written across it. It was like looking into the bottom of a star-speckled well or the inside of an apple. That’s all I can tell you — the rest is between me and the stars. And the violet flower coating the roof of my mouth. 

Secrets, I’m learning, those private, quiet things, can be quite delicious. 

One day, I stopped talking. Stopped asking questions. Stopped wondering how to quit feeling small and even gave up trying to change my size altogether. Instead, I let the silence fill up the space around me. I let the world around me grow large and full and technicolor.

I watched two black cats sprawled across a windowsill, tails lazily flicking back and forth. Noticed how they took up all the space they wanted, just like the silence. They would not consider themselves small. They would not stuff themselves into bad-luck labels, even if they did like stuffing themselves into boxes. They, like all sensible creatures, favor big hearts over small minds. They know you are lucky to bask in their presence. 

And, somehow, they are right.

Now, I no longer think of myself as small. I am not confined by this skin or the pain others might press upon it. I am breath and heartbeat and the red blush of a ladybug’s kiss on my fingertip. I am the conversation with an elephant. The starflower in my mouth. The cats watching me write. I am not small, though I take up little space.

I am all the ways I touched the world just by being myself. 

I am one word after another, spilling from my mouth, my pen, my heart. 

I am the words I cannot speak. 

I am the stories that have made me feel small, and I am the stories I will write to remember that I am big. I am the spaces — they get bigger and longer each time I feed them — when I forget to think about my place in the world and simply listen to the morning finch. 

That bird.

He knows how to give me wings. He knows how to fill my chest with sunlight. I put down my pen and open the window above my writing desk to let his birdsong wash over me.  In the end, this is all that matters:

His brilliant voice.

The big sky above us.

This small moment.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday fantasy, and absolutely delectable recipes that will guarantee to stir the kitchen witch in you.  If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is the everyday, subscribe here.

Want even more inspiration to make your dream life a reality?  Follow me on Facebook, Pinterest, and  Instagram.  Thanks for following!

Winter is for Sacred Simple Pleasures

It’s a cold and cloudy day, a perfectly cozy winter’s day, promising much-needed snow and quiet time. I’m sipping cinnamon and anis-laced coffee this morning, gazing out the window above my writing desk, and relishing the cozy warmth of my home. It’s strewn with twinkle lights and smells of beeswax and more cinnamon. It’s filled with books, herbs, and all the things I love, including my two familiars gazing out the window beside me. It’s a comforting and warm antidote to the brewing storm outside.

Truly, it is the perfect day to indulge in self-care. There’s something about this heavy weather that invites us to slow down and take care of ourselves. Maybe indulge a little.

Honestly? I’ve always said magic is a hard, gritty thing. It takes work. You can’t just light candles, say positive affirmations and then expect the universe to drop miracles into your lap. You’ve got to work for it. Stay grounded but hopeful—and always, always be proactive in cultivating a magical life. Self-care is like that. I mean, you can light candles (again), say positive affirmations (again), and…expect to feel reborn. Sure, light your candles. I love my beeswax candles because they cleanse the air, smell like honey, and are just plain pretty. Affirmations can be powerful spells that help you grow. Candle magic is a thing. You see, magic and self-care have a lot in common—I mean, we think of candles and affirmations for both, right? 

In fact, seasoned witches know that radical self-care is the backbone of magical living.

It means slowing down and feeling hard feelings. It means talking with those you love to find a way forward. It means pinpointing a place in your life where the energy is stagnant and then working through things so the energy can be free-flowing. Sometimes, it means you need to reimagine your life. Things that were once generative and inspiring for a time can become sour and toxic if we hold on too long. Energies change, and it’s time to move on—it’s life’s way of making sure you keep growing. It’s also about being able to acknowledge and celebrate the moments when your life is flourishing and where energy flows. And yes, self-care is also about exercising, eating right, sleeping well… basically treating yourself like a small child who needs a lot of TLC.

But here’s the thing I’ve discovered: that work can be exhausting.

It takes a lot to face hard things, to sit with those feelings, and to map a way forward. It can be hard, too, when you experience joy because sometimes you realize you haven’t allowed yourself to experience enough of it. Who hasn’t been stingy with their joy from time to time? All this to say that sometimes, as we stay steady, conjuring change through our routines as rituals, we need a breather. 

And that’s where the fun—and ever so important—part of self-care comes in. 

I admit it: I like my candles and positive affirmations. I’ve spent the afternoon making cinnamon, orange, and peppermint bath bombs so I can indulge in festive bubble baths and share them with loved ones. I’ve also become obsessed with “fussy” skincare routines of oil cleansing, honey face masks, and painting my nails. I’ve added touches of glitter to, well, everything. These silly things—so often the things we think of when we think of self-care—are just as important as all the other hard stuff you have to do to really take care of yourself. There’s nothing like brewing a pot of mint chocolate tea, curling up on the couch in a pile of blankets (and cats), and going down a Pinterest rabbit hole to learn about the best tips for face care or what the heck latte makeup is (what I normally wear, as it turns out). 

Or there’s the pure gothic delight of listening to ghost stories while knitting by twinkle light, or, yes, watching a cheesy holiday movie for a popcorn and pizza movie night. Sometimes, it’s taking a day to go to the salon and indulge in holiday shopping. Or cozy up by the fireplace and do nothing but daydream and snooze. See what I mean? It’s frivolous and fun…and so absolutely necessary.

Choosing joy is when we let the magic in.

It’s when we allow all we’ve worked for and conjured to settle and take root and manifest in the way that is healthiest for us. It’s the fallow time when we reset and rest and let nature do its work. We can’t always be go-go-going. In fact, it’s a good way to clog up your energy and inadvertently sabotage your conjurings! All good magic is a hard, gritty thing, true. But it’s also a soft thing, a thing that needs energetic flow and divine receptivity to balance out the dirty business of cleaning up our lives.

The holidays are the perfect time to slow down and indulge in sacred simple pleasures; the sillier and more joyful, the better. All the better, in fact, to conjure magical living this year and in the next…

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday fantasy, and absolutely delectable recipes that will guarantee to stir the kitchen witch in you.  If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is the everyday, subscribe here.

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The Witch Who Lives Down the Hall...

One of my favorite books as a child was a now-out-of-print story called The Witch Who Lives Down the Hall (1985), which you can listen to and view here. In this book, a young boy is convinced that the woman who lives down the hall from him in his new apartment complex is a witch. Why does he think this? Well, she casts spells on a magic carpet (does yoga), whips up potions (makes soup), hosts coven meetings (reading and music clubs), has a black cat, and is basically loads of fun.

The thing is, the child is not wrong. His neighbor IS a witch, only not in the way we would think.

She is the embodiment of everyday magic. Everything she does is infused with mindfulness, joy, and a touch of enchantment, as seen through the eyes of a child who can find wonder and whimsy in all things. She might not make literal potions, but isn’t a bowl of soup the perfect healing spell when we need it? So she doesn’t have a flying carpet, but her yoga practice invites an elevated perspective. Then she has her black cat and we all know black cats are pure magic!

I was reminded of this story a few years back when two little girls moved into the apartment down the hall from me. I saw them watching me from the courtyard. They took in my black cat sitting on the windowsill. Caught glimpses of me on my magic carpet (I mean my yoga mat), and stole peeks through my window at the large collection of books that just had to be filled with spells. Most importantly, they were enamored with my patio garden that overflowed with herbs, flowers, and other wild, growing things.

Obviously, mine was a witch’s garden with ingredients for spellwork.

I caught them once, picking petals from roses I’d put out to dry and taking a pinch of this or that herb. They took their stash to the fountain in the middle of the courtyard and used it to make potions. They danced around the fountain and chanted. They poured water into cups and mixed flower petals and herbs into them, making up wild songs as they did so.

One day, the younger sister returned to collect more rose petals just as I came out to water my plants. The older sister, well, she did the big sister thing and ran straight up to my patio, worried they were in trouble for stealing my rose petals and herbs.

In trouble with A WITCH, no less!

They’d read enough stories, it seemed, to know they shouldn’t upset a witch even if they couldn’t resist stealing from her garden. Or maybe they just didn’t want to get in trouble with their parents for disturbing a neighbor. Who knows?

“We’re sorry for taking your stuff. It’s just we needed it,” the older sister quickly explained while pulling her sibling away from the patio. “We’re making spells.”

“What sort of spells?” I asked, and they knew they didn’t have to fear me.

Readers, they had A LOT of spells, and it was wonderful to talk with them about the stories and worlds and potions they were making. I also showed them what they could freely take from my garden. All the dried rose petals they wanted. Honestly, those dried roses were so pretty I didn’t want to throw them out, but I also couldn’t possibly keep them all. I showed them how to pluck green tendrils from my herb plants and explained why they shouldn’t pull the heads off fresh flowers. This ensured they had fun, but my garden didn’t suffer from their enthusiasm.

Hey, I’m a practical witch.

One afternoon, I found them chanting in front of my patio garden, with a stick in hand—a wand, no doubt—and splashing water from the fountain across my plants. My familiar was most curious, watching them through the window as they went about their witchy business.

I peeked out to see what the fuss was about.

“It’s a growing spell!” The eldest explained.

They noticed, they said, that some of my plants were looking a little ragged. Their spell was going to bring them back to life. Every day after school, they ran through the courtyard to check on their spell’s progress. I told them that sometimes spells take time. We’d chat, and they’d ask me questions about all sorts of things. About my cat. About my yoga mat. About the soup cooking on the stove—they smelled it in the hall on their way to their apartment. I could see, through their eyes, that I was much like the strange woman in the children’s book, with all sorts of mysterious things in my home filled with little enchantments.

About a week after they cast their spell over my patio garden, the tired plants started coming back to life. Did their spell work? Or did those cold-weather plants just get their second wind once the heat of the summer waned and cooler temperatures coaxed them back to life? Personally, I think it was their spell. They were certainly proud of their casting abilities, and I was happy to see my plants doing so well. And, eventually, when those girls moved away, I would think of them every time I gathered dried rose petals.

I will always remember the time I got to be the witch who lived down the hall.

It brought me back to when I was their age, reading that strange little book that taught me true magic is the everyday. It’s those small enchantments—intentional living, synchronous meetings, daily rituals—that make life magical.

It reminded me, too, not to take for granted the ordinary magic I’d conjured for myself. We can get used to things, the daily workings of our lives, so much so that we can forget what it takes to craft a meaningful life and how the simplest magic is often the most extraordinary. Magic isn’t in flying carpets and cauldrons. It’s in yoga mats and cast iron pots (although, who is to say which is which?). It isn’t in grimoires or crystal balls but in cookbooks and how the light dances off water in a fountain.

We forget, as we age, that magic is all around us. That we are magic. It’s inside us and all around us, no complicated rituals necessary. And sometimes, life gives us a gift—two little girls who remind you that you are, in fact, much more magical than you feel at the moment, or a woman who lives down the hall from you who must certainly be a witch—to show us that the enchantment we’re looking for is right under our nose.

And, truly, isn’t that what witchy business is all about? Everyday conjurings for a magical life.

As I gather pumpkins and hang autumn twinkle lights with my familiars—I have two now—in preparation for Halloween, I think about the joys of being the witch who lives down the hall. I think about the new stories yet to unfold, the ones that have nourished me over the years and the ones I will one day write, and, most importantly, which ones will jump from the page and into my life as this children’s story did. After all, stories are the deepest form of magic, and there is a quiet conjuring that happens when we find the medicine we need in the pages of a good book.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, and Threads. Here’s to a magical life!

Book Release Day: Conversations with the Tarot

It’s book release day! I couldn’t be more excited to see this project birthed into the world. What started as a creative exploration of the tarot and a way to learn more about the deck in a low-pressure way has developed into a deep love and appreciation for the art of conversing with the tarot.

Come join the conversation!

Bewitching tarot meditations by bruja and award-winning writer Maria DeBlassie.

One part prose poetry, one part witchy insights, and one part study in learning the tarot, this book explores this mundane divination form for beginners and experts alike.

This cartomancy book was birthed from DeBlassie’s creative tarot studies in which she wrote 78-word prose poems for each of the 78 cards in the deck, using synchronicity, everyday magic, and her budding understanding of tarot symbolism and meanings to craft her tales.

It’s not your basic how-to-read tarot book, but more a how-to begin a conversation with this divination tool. As any tarot reader can tell you, dealing the deck is more than interpreting cards. It’s about building a relationship with this mystic tool and learning how you and the tarot can work together to discover numinous revelations.

This book is a series of proverbial spells. A series of stories. A series of synchronous messages and mystic musings. A journey into learning the tarot. Are you ready to start your adventure?

See what reviewers have to say…

“Whether you’ve had a long relationship with Tarot or you’ve just met, Conversations with the Tarot is a must-read. Equal parts mystical and practical, this book offers a unique perspective on the cards and how to achieve an intimate relationship with your deck. It is elegant and unexpected—a new classic for any Tarot devotee.”  ~ Deanna Raybourn, NYT bestselling author of the Veronica Speedwell series and tarot enthusiast

“Those of us who read Tarot often talk about ‘hearing what the cards have to say.’ Listening to the cards is the most vital part of our relationship with them. And Maria DeBlassie listens deeply. In Conversations with the Tarot, she shares her experiences in lyrical, poetic language that encourages further exploration and deepens the reader’s understanding of the Tarot, both as individual cards with messages to share and as a complex tapestry woven with the threads of the human experience. This book is moving and inspiring, well worth your time whether you’re an old hand or new to Tarot.” ~ Laura Perry, creator of The Minoan Tarot and author of The Cryptic Guide to the Hopeless, Maine Tarot

"Maria DeBlassie’s Conversations with the Tarot is a beautifully written, inspiring, and insightful book. You could use it as a divination tool, as inspiration for your own journey, or to deepen your own tarot practice. There is a wealth of gentle wisdom here and compassionate insight, and I heartily recommend reading it." ~ Nimue Brown, author of Pagan Dreaming and Beyond Sustainability

Get your copy here.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

How to Craft a Witchy Home

Last month, I wrote about how witchy houses have captured our collective imaginations on The Bruja Professor. I also wrote on this blog about the joys of creating a witchy garden. It only makes sense that we take this witchy business a step further and talk about what it means to craft (pun intended) a witchy house!

It is a fact of life that we all want to live in the Practical Magic house and, if you’re like me, model our current abodes after it and other witchy pop culture homes like those found in Charmed and other shows. I mean, if you aren’t actively trying to create a space—and life—as magical as a hut built on chicken feet, are you even living?!?!

I think after the pandemic, especially, we all have a deeper appreciation for our domestic spaces and the importance of making them joyful, comforting sanctuaries. That is, unless you’re an introvert, in which case, you’ve already had a deep appreciation for the simple magic of your proverbial hobbit hole. Even in a post-pandemic world, I find myself retreating to the cool and quiet of my witchy abode to beat the summer heat. It is a truly wonderful feeling to tuck in knowing that I could go out and will when the mood strikes, but that I choose to stay home for a bit and enjoy the enchanting comforts of home (a very different feeling from lockdown, I assure you, much as I took comfort in my refuge then).

Essentially, crafting a witchy home is all about investing in your life in the here and now. And, if a home is a reflection of self, it’s also about investing in yourself and thinking about the energy you want to conjure in your life. What brings you joy? What do you find soothing? What do you look forward to the moment you wake up or the second you walk into your house at the end of a long work day? What places in your home feel stagnant or junk-filled? All important questions, all with deeply personal, idiosyncratic answers. In Weep, Woman, Weep, an essential part of Mercy’s conjuring and breaking free from ancestral hauntings is in the home she makes for herself. She fills it with beautiful things, precious things that reflect the life she’s trying to build for herself, a life of love, joy, and wholeness. Likewise, in Everyday Enchantments, I have more than a few essays about the quiet magic of home. I wrote those when I, too, was exploring what kind of life I wanted to conjure post-graduate school. A lot of magic has been conjured since then, much of it in my home!

There are, however, a few universal things that all magical homes have, personal preferences aside, so if you’re looking to craft a witchy sanctuary of your own, consider the following: The magic in a home can be boiled down to three important places—the kitchen, the library (um, living room), and the bedroom (wink, wink).

1. Go full-on kitchen witch in your kitchen. Think beautiful stoneware, molcajetes, cast iron pots…the works! These things are not only durable and pretty much last forever if you take care of them, but they add an element of comfort and beauty to your kitchen. My molcajete, a type of mortar and pestle, has a prized place on my counter and is usually listed with garlic from my garden or other hearty ingredients. Likewise, your pantry isn’t just a pantry. It’s an apothecary! Harvest your herbs and other delightful ingredients in mason jars and beautiful canisters. It should feel like a cabinet of ingredients for edible spells and medicines, not just the place where you stash your snacks.

2. Turn those bookcases into a library. All witches need a place to stash their grimoires, tomes, and other books. I don’t think I know a single witchy person who also isn’t an avid reader. These two things go hand in hand, like witches and cooking or introverts and writers. These are the FACTS! So it only makes sense that we cultivate our bookshelves as if they were our personal library filled with magic, mystery, and quite possibly mayhem if placed in the wrong hands. Fill your shelves with stories you love, stories that challenge or cause discomfort, books that make up the very fabric of your being. Stories are where 99% of magic comes from, after all, so it only makes sense that the more books you have in your home, the more magical it is.

3. Shop at (haunted) antique stores. I mean, don’t buy the cursed chest or the mysterious locket, and most certainly do not purchase old-timey photos of creepy families to hang on your wall. Never ever let the sallow-faced owner give you something for free. It probably has a spirit attached to it, one that has been sucking the life out of the owner until you, unlucky soul, were “gifted” the spirit. That said, if you can avoid these pitfalls, antique stores can be a great way to fill your home with unique furniture at an affordable price. Forget Ikea! I’ve found many one-of-a-kind pieces at local shops, old secretary desks, and gorgeous vanities, you name it. Paying attention to the vibes and look of a piece also helps you think about the kind of home you want to craft—would this purple fainting couch go with my spinning wheel?

4. Fill your space with things you love. This one seems like a no-brainer, but it bears repeating. Fill your home with art and don’t be stingy—fill every nook and cranny with beauty. Those star-dotted sheer curtains? Or those velvet green curtains for that matter? BUY THEM. Okay, maybe those are oddly specific to my home, velvet and corduroy in jewel colors being something I LOVE in my furniture and decor, BUT figure out what you love. What makes you feel like a witchy sister in Charmed? Or like a magical heroine in a soapy supernatural drama like Witches of East End? Decorate accordingly. Likewise, remember that we witches are like magpies, we like shiny things and we like to put those shiny things on surfaces to celebrate them. Fill your house with crystals, flowers, rocks, shells…all of these things bring good vibrations to your home.

5. Fill your house with plants… Truly, can you even call yourself a lover of Practical Magic if you don’t have a room dedicated to plants? Okay, so I can’t keep a lot of potted plants in my apartment—cats will eat things that aren’t good for them—but I do have a robust patio garden filled with all sorts of medicinal and culinary herbs. Magical AF! Fresh flowers also work, as do dried bouquets like the fresh-cut lavender currently drying in a vase on my writing desk. This keeps you connected to nature and keeps you grounded. Take time to learn the magical properties of the plants you love the most. You’d be surprised what you discover about yourself!

6. …and cats. And I get that not everyone likes cats—they are wrong, though, as my two familiars are quick to remind me. A home isn’t a home until you have at least one black cat, in my humble and biased opinion. Animals, like plants, link us to the natural world and remind us that we are all connected.

Energetically, it’s important that you only have what brings you joy in your home AND what you use. Anything you don’t use or that doesn’t make you happy only makes for stagnant energy. Treat everything in your house like a work of art—it’s not just a blanket. It’s a protective cloak! Your home isn’t a place to crash. It’s a sanctuary. And a magical one at that, filled with things from your far-flung adventures, crafty creations, and a whole lot of love.

Why? Because you are magic. And your home should reflect that.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

The Magic of Being an Amateur

In Everyday Enchantments, I have a tribute to the joys of being an amateur and another on what it takes to truly become an expert at something. These bite-sized musings came from a lifetime of experiences that reinforced the idea that everything we do must be done To Perfection and the moments in my life that were truly awe-inspiring because I wasn’t aiming for perfect, just relishing the sheer pleasure of doing something that feels good.

As a child, I couldn’t just do ballet because I liked wearing a tutu and twirling. No, at a certain point, my teacher made it clear that I needed to Get Serious and commit to the point shoes and all the aches and pains that come with more professional dance. What a way to ruin the joy of dance for a little girl that just wants to twirl! (Thankfully, my parents were advocates of being happy amateurs in the things that brought us joy; otherwise, I’d be a wreck. But they gave me permission to immerse myself in the arts and other interests without the pressure to turn it into a profession or side hustle.)

Those issues came up later when I dove into Latin dance. I took classes simply because some of my favorite college and grad school memories were staying out late dancing with friends. Even though I knew very little about the specific dance steps, we still managed to have a good time. I decided to treat myself to dance lessons once I got full-time work, an investment meant to carve time for myself outside of my life as an educator. I was allowed to learn other things simply for the sake of learning and enjoyment.

And enjoy myself I did, as I learned that Latin dance was not just salsa or merengue but bachata, cumbia, and a variety of other equally sensuous and celebratory dances. But at some point, the pressure started: if you *really* want to learn dance, if you *really* want to be good, you need to go to class every night, dance at every social you can go to, and *really* immerse yourself in the culture. Sure, okay. Some of that is true and works well as you’re learning new skills and wanting to get comfortable on the dance floor. But the truth was that this rigidity, the idea that I must eat, breathe, and live dance, made me more self-conscious, more afraid of making mistakes, and less able to enjoy myself on the dance floor. It took me time to realize I loved to dance for the sake of moving my hips and getting my wiggles out, much like the tutu-wearing girl I once was. and there’s nothing wrong with that! In fact, there were many other casual dancers like me—people who enjoyed a turn about the dance floor without getting too caught up in the dance culture surrounding it.

And let’s be real, I like doing other things. I love finding a new recipes in the New York Times cooking section to try over the weekend. I like getting lost perusing seed catalogs and learning the best ways to start your seedlings in February. I like knitting while binge-watching shows—haphazardly making blankets that are too big with stitches that are too uneven to be considered beautiful by anyone but me or someone lucky enough to cuddle under those messily-crafted blankets with me.

I like a rousing game of bocce without using regulation-grade balls imported from Italy. I’m sure someone out there understands why they are important to a good game, but I’m not one of them. I’ve gotten back into sketching and watercolors. That’s right, I’m a hardcore doodler and love my how-to-paint kits. A professional artist, I will never be. I also love learning Spanish, listening to podcasts, watching shows, and reading literature in the language—but I doubt I’ll ever comfortably speak it. When I try to study too hard, my tongue gets tied, and the words stop flowing, as Spanish is inextricably linked to my complicated feelings about my racial and cultural background. But if I bask in my appreciation of this heritage language? Then I learn, then I enjoy, then I keep at it.

I like, in other words, taking up new pastimes and learning new ways of looking at the world. My latest hobby is joyfully ignoring the well-meaning but high-pressure people who tell me I just need to practice more at [fill in the blank] and eventually, I’ll be The Best or, at least, Very Good. How about I just enjoy what I‘m doing?

I’m also always working through graduate school traumas issues rooted in perfectionism (heaven forbid you say, do, or write anything that isn’t automatically flawless!). I like being a novice. An amateur. The person who isn’t afraid to look like a fool, make a mistake or try something new. I like that I can dance freely now, without the pressure to perfect every step, or grow some of the tastiest tomatoes without being a master gardener, or even pluck at my violin strings without fear of sounding less-than-symphony ready. 

In fact, I’ve developed a profound love for doing things I’m not good at over the years. There’s magic in being like The Fool in the tarot, always open, always ready for new experiences and possibilities, focused not on a specific outcome but on the act of exploration.

This is the energy I bring to the new year: the soft, receptive magic of doing things I love loudly, happily, and with no intention of mastering any of them. What will you playfully practice this year? What delights will you devote yourself to?

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

The Terrible Delights of Spooky Stories

I love scary stories.

I’m also a total chicken. I grew up telling stories on the playground, huddled around trees, or crawling into quiet places with friends to listen to urban legends and frightening tales, from La Llorona to Bloody Mary, to strange tales of a woman with the ribbon around her throat that literally held her head on her body, to creepy dolls come to life the moment you closed your eyes to sleep at night. I knew I’d never be able to sleep at night, but I couldn’t help myself.

I devoured them!

In class, we learned more about La Llorona (a figure that inspired my novella, Weep, Woman, Weep), Baba Yaga, and all sorts of spooky stories that gave me a good chill but were rather less terrifying than what I heard on the playground.

Of course, there was no better time to tell and listen to these stories than fall. As the season slowly ripened into Halloween, the days got shorter, and the cool evenings and turning leaves were the perfect backdrop for stories that reminded us that there is more to this world than meets the eye.

I would come home from school filled up on those terrible tales and, after playing in piles of leaves in my backyard, would feel a growing sense of unease as the sun began to set and darkness took over. I was certainly grateful for the comforting presence of my dogs when night stole across the sky. The feelings were pushed away with dinner, in the cozy brightness of the kitchen and the warmth of family, but readily came back when I was tucked in bed later that night.

Every creek, howl of wind, or cricket chirp sounded like a ghostly footstep, the weeping woman, or all manner of supernatural threats. Mirrors were not to be looked in when the sun went down. Windows must be closed at night, lest La Llorona find a way in. Blankets were to be tucked around you up to your chin to protect you from whatever might be lurking under the bed.

I felt would never fall asleep!

But, of course, I did. And with the coming sun came the confidence of youth that there was nothing truly scary in this world and I went right back to the playground ready to consume more lurid and horrible tales. 

They were terrifying. They were also thrilling.  I couldn’t help myself—even when they gave me nightmares and my mom tried to get me to stop listening to these stories—they had this allure to me, pulling me into a world of the strange and the gothic.

The feeling didn’t go away as I got older. Take, for example, the time I went trick o’ treating with a friend in middle school, one of the last times I would venture out on that childhood ritual. I was no stranger to haunted houses—there were plenty in my neighborhood. I lived next door to one and there was another a few blocks away that looked like something out of a gothic novel: big, dark, looming, and a story about a murder so strange and unexpected it devolved into its own neighborhood legend with everyone having a slightly different explanation for why the house just felt…off.

My friend and I were alone on the street and were doing our best to casually walk past the house, feeling very brave and very adult in our fairy costumes, proud of the fact that we could trick-or-treat unchaperoned. But once we neared that house, suddenly home felt so very far away, other groups of Halloween revelers so very far away.  There was only the darkness surrounding us and the specter of that gina those before us. 

Then we heard something—a yip, a yell, from someone in the distance—and we screamed, running for the safety of my home. Gone were the bold, brave adults, and in their place were two frightened children who wanted nothing more than the warm lights and safety of home. As it turns out, the noise we heard was from a bunch of wild partiers, but it became so much more frightening when it was disembodied, and the shadows fed our imaginations, as did all the terrible tales I’d been consuming that season.

As scary as that was, and as silly as my friend and I felt in retrospect, there was no denying the fun we had, nor the deep sense of comfort we felt in returning to my house. That’s what scary stories do for us. They bring us home. We find catharsis in facing the darkness and making it out the other side. We appreciate the light where and when we can find it.  

Here I am now—still loving scary stories. Still a total chicken. Still ready for a good tale of terror…in the daylight. Still not looking in mirrors and closing all my windows at night. And I speed up whenever I have to walk by that haunted house, indeed any haunted house, less the specters inside think to invite me in.

That’s the beauty of these early childhood frights. They gave me a solid appreciation of the thrills of a good scary story and a healthy respect for the unseen worlds or even vibes I get that tell me a person or situation is more than meets the eye. 

This is why I tell spooky stories today. They reveal so much more about ourselves and the world around us than many an ordinary tale. From writing horror comedy about the terrors of dating in Hungry Business to the haunting wails of La Llorona in Weep, Woman, Weep, all my tales are inspired by the ordinary gothic all around us, pairing catharsis as we face the dark and find the light. 

What do you love about scary stories?

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

Cooking with Mercy Farm Turnips

Turnips feature prominently in Weep, Woman, Weep. Why? because I LOVE root veggies, including turnips. In fact, when writing this novella, I became more than a little obsessed with them, salad turnips, tasting like buttery radishes and purple top and scarlet turnips…there are a surprising number of different types of these humble root veggies.

Mercy, the central character in Weep, Woman, Weep, ends up starting Mercy Farm, and among the many vegetables and herbs she grows are turnips. In fact, turnips are the thing that gets her going on the whole idea of turning the land she inherited into a working farm. She later becomes rather famous for having some of the best produce—turnips especially—in and around Sueno, New Mexico.

The turnips become a symbol for the new life Mercy’s trying to build for herself from nothing but hard work and heartache—and a dream that she can be more than La Llorona’s curse running in her blood.  I later learned that turnips are, in fact, symbols of success and better fortune. I love it when synchronicity is at play to show me that I picked turnips as a symbol of Mercy’s new path for a reason!

Of course, it took me a little bit to realize my obsession with this humble root vegetable wasn’t entirely normal.  I had the pleasure of being invited to the Romancing the Gothic book club this past spring so the members could ask me questions about my gothic fairytale. It was then I realized that my interest in turnips might be a little, well, you know, strange.  

The book club readers asked one simple and very important question: What’s up with all the turnips?!?! Aren’t they, like, gross??? There was many a horror story of boiled and mealy veggies that were enough to make even a turnip lover queasy.

As I draft the sequel to this book, Mercy Road, all this turnip talk becomes a bit of a running joke. Santos, the protagonist of that tale, had never really eaten turnips until becoming Mercy’s neighbor. But, as much as he loves Mercy and her produce, even he thinks she talks about turnips too much. To be fair, she’s been on her own for a long time, but still, there are other things to talk about!  Perhaps over a delicious meal of…turnips.

Yes, Mercy’s got me “talking turnips,” too, as Santos would say. And the book club chat made me realize that not everyone loves root vegetables as much as I do. And though I have yet to grow my own successfully, I eat them constantly. If you’re even a little bit curious about how to enjoy turnips, here are a few suggestions below (and, honestly, how I usually eat them).  

Salad turnips look like white radishes and are great in…salads. Just slice them up and add them to some greens. They are also great on crudite platters and dipped in aioli. 

For larger turnips, like purple top and scarlet turnips, consider roasting them like you would potatoes.  Olive oil and salt are all you really need, although adding cumin, green chile powder, or other spices add a nice kick.  

I like to make turnip gratin when it gets colder out. It is delightful and so comforting without feeling as heavy as a traditional potato gratin.  I’ve also been known to use pureed cannellini beans in place of cream when I want something even lighter. It’s still creamy, just not as heavy.

These larger turnips are also great in stir-fries because they really soak up whatever sauce you’re using and take on whatever flavor profile you want.  They are also hearty enough to maintain a firm texture with no mushiness (that only happens when you boil them to death!).  

And speaking of mush…you can mash them like potatoes, too, although with olive oil, chicken stock, and seasoning, they are a culinary delight.  Add a sprinkling of gruyere, and it’s heaven!

Any kind of turnip can be pickled, too, and I often use them in my quick pickled veggies recipe.

So, as you can see, there are a lot of ways to use turnips. Do you eat turnips? How do you cook them?  And, if you haven’t yet considered eating them, give some of these suggestions a try and let me know what you think!

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

Beltane Spells

On May first, I wove ribbons in my hair and danced in the meadow until the buzzing in my heart matched the buzzing of the bees.  On the sixth, I ate tender strawberries and enjoyed the feel of each tiny seed slipping down my throat. On the twelfth, I planted lemon balm because I am forever in need of soothing and sunshine.  I somehow never quite trust soft gentle things when they pad into my life like a cat ready to luxuriate in my attention—but I’m learning.

Even the tarot gives me sunshine. Again and again, it asks me to let the light in.  I wish it would tell me how because the only way I know is to surround myself with sunflowers and jazz records and radishes so red they look like they could stain my fingers with their exuberance.

Then today I tried to capture the scent of lilacs as they fade and give way to summer—knowing full well I will have to wait until another turn of the wheel to savor their ephemeral perfume fresh from the bud.  But that doesn’t stop me from bottling what I can of their essence so that when I am bottled up I can uncap that violet vial, breath in, and remember that I am a spring evening—full of softness and invitation to those willing to linger in solitude under the moonlight.

I am as wild as a dandelion head, made up of wishes that will fearlessly find their place in the world, not the stiff thoughts that fill my mind when I try to mend the things that keep falling apart—Orpheus was right. Nothing good ever comes from looking back.

Instead, I wash myself in lilac perfume to remember that the world is full of soft and sweet things and that I needn’t always smell of sweat and tears.  I let my bare feet kiss wet grass. And I take the last lilac buds to weave with the ribbons in my hair so that even my dance is a magenta promise of something more.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

How to Cultivate a Witchy Garden

It’s that time of year when I’m dying to get my hands dirty.  I’ve been collecting seeds all winter and have started prepping my garden space by turning the soil, cleaning up the debris that protected it over the colder months, and thinking about where I’ll put my plants. I’m dizzy with the promise of a summer in my magical garden space where my biggest concern is harvesting and drying my medicinal herbs fast enough—the hard years of pandemic teaching forgotten under the sun’s nurturing gaze and the pliant soil beneath my feet.

This is a feeling that is always with me, even in the winter, warming my soul when it’s too cold to be outside.  You see, I grew up in a magical garden.  My mother was the original kitchen witch who grew so many herbs and plants in our backyard that stepping out there was like entering this secret garden of enchanted things—it still is!  

I remember when I learned that the licorice and lavender and lemon verbena she planted had medicinal properties and that you could steep them to make delicious and healing tisanes. I was obsessed with collecting these plants, brewing with them, and drying them to store in cool jars I’d collected over the years.  Yeah…I think it’s pretty clear that I was always kind of witchy!

Even when I left home, I made it a point to bring a little bit of that garden magic with me wherever I went. Sometimes it was just a few plants on a windowsill in my grad school apartment.  Other times, it was a magnificent patio garden, complete with vermicompost, where I grew all sorts of culinary and medicinal herbs.  Or it was an open space where I could sneak away to plant early spring leeks and onions or the Pinterest board where I pinned everything I wanted in my dream garden, the place I’d cultivate when I lived in my forever home (yes, it will closely resemble the house in the movie, Practical Magic, naturally). 

Plant magic is so much a part of my being, especially as a bruja, that I’ve come to think of my garden as an enchanting space for conjuring.  I have a natural affinity for plants and have often sought solace in their company when the outer world gets to be too much (truly, plants and cats are much more sensible than humans, at least that’s what my familiar says, and I tend to agree with him). 

Sometimes, though, it might seem like a daunting task to create a witchy garden full of medicinal herbs and magical plants.  Where do you start?  How do you maintain it?  What plants do you use?  The most important thing to creating a magical garden is your intention—that desire for a more magical life—and taking enjoyment in learning as you go.  

So, if, like me, you’re looking to be witchier than ever this year, here are a few tips, in no particular order, to cultivating a witchy garden.  It goes without saying, however, that any witchy tips you get here are general guidelines—see what resonates with you and then make your own magic as you develop your relationship to the space you’re working with and the plants that speak to you. 

Don’t get too manictured! I quietly cringe at the perfectly manicured gardens in magazines.  I can practically hear the plants screaming to be free! A garden should be a sanctuary where you let your hair down, walk barefoot, and forget about the world for a bit.  Where you plants can thrive and grow wontonly.  Sure, tend your garden, but don’t turn it into the environmental equivalent of those airbrushed models on a magazine cover—they’re not real and should not be images of beauty we aspire to. Instead, embrace the wild messiness of growing things.  It’s good for the soul.

Remember that all plants are magic. Who didn’t spend afternoons as a child gathering roots and twigs and leaves and stirring them up to make potions and mudpies? It’s as if we all instinctively knew there was something magical to these living breathing things. (If you are one of those rare and strange creatures who never did that…I feel sorry for you.  But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy that kind of fun now—go get your hands dirty and collect plants that call to you!).  As you go about cultivating your garden, learn about the flowers, herbs, and produce your plant. They all have lovely magical, medicinal, and, yes, even mundane histories.  Each of them has stories and there’s something powerful to learn more about them. You’ll be surprised how much of their stories

Talk to your plants…and don’t be surprised if they talk back. Oftentimes, the plants we are most attracted to have the medicine we need.   For example, one year, I was deeply drawn to Juniper, the seeds, the leaves, and the sharp smell of its essential oils.  I later learned that Juniper is a deeply healing plant that is specifically known for taking negative energy and turning it into light.  As it happens, that was the exact magic I needed as I was healing from some toxic situations and learning to find my own happiness again.  And, yeah, you should check on your plants and talk with them as you tend them.  My mornings aren’t complete without a cup of coffee in the garden and a good chat with growing things before I draw the tarot.

Leave those weeds for the birds and the bees. Okay, I know that we don’t want a garden that’s overgrown with weeds but some are seriously important! This goes back to not being too manicured.  The garden is a living ecosystem so leave those dandelions to help our pollinators, just as wildflowers attract birds who help keep pests in line. Some plants that are so aggressive they become like weeds (I’m talking to you, mint!), so do what you have to do to make sure you keep your unwanted plants in check but allow your garden to be a joyful wild ecosystem that isn’t hemmed in by hospital-like tidiness. The wildlife and your mind will thank you!

Embrace composting. There is nothing more magical than taking scraps and other discards and turning them into pure gold.  It’s positively alchemical! Composting is a fairly easy thing to learn how to do and one of the cheapest and most eco-friendly ways to nourish your plants--seriously, ditch the chemical fertilizers and other junk that’s bad for the environment.  I also like to think of all the energetic junk I’m composting for future fertile soil as I feed my vermicompost or turn the heap.  It makes me feel like no experience, piece of writing, or feeling is wasted.  Even if it’s something I have to let go of, it has done its part to help nourish my inner garden.  It’s very cathartic!  

Know your local ecosystem.  I love my local medicinal plants like globemallow and yerba mansa, not to mention the drought-hardy Hollyhocks.  Part of cultivating a witchy garden is knowing the land around you and the plants and animals that thrive there.  When you garden in harmony with the environment around you, you produce better yields, have happier plants and wildlife, and embrace your inner wildflower. 

I suppose if there’s one last bit of advice to give you as you cultivate your witchy garden, it’s to listen to your intuition. Plant the plants that make you happy. Design your space in a way that soothes the soul. Go slow. Enjoy the sacred simple pleasure of time spent with growing things. And always, always make a little time each day to get your hands dirty.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

I am a love story...

I would make a love spell, if I could, made of the torn pages of a romance novel, rose petals plucked under the darkness of night, and the bloody suture that stitched the pieces of my heart back together after I was so careless with it.

I would take these things and mash them together between the teeth of my mortar and pestle, along with dandelion seeds and olive oil and dirty thoughts and ground cinnamon and the sweetness of a spring morning.  I’d bind it with my spit and tears and hope.

I would even drink this potion if I could. Swallow it all down with a spoonful of honey to soften the intensity of this longing and think of nothing but seeds and fruition as it slid down my throat.  

If a love spell would bring me what I want, I would dance naked under the moon and use strands of my hair to weave together an impossible unbreakable love story. I would work long hours just to be able to afford that small crystal bottle full of hazy pink liquid tucked safely behind the glass counter in that one occult shop everyone knows but says they’ve never been to.

But it’s no use. 

No use trying to conjure warms hands and a beating heart from chicken bones and ribbon.  Or the soft sincerity of an appreciative gaze from glitter and sanding sugar, let alone the gooey warm feeling of being safe in another’s arms—you could try melted chocolate on the tongue or cocoa butter rubbed into your skin.  But it won’t work.

These sorts of love spells never do.  

I’ll tell you what does—though you won’t believe me.  Amateurs never do.

It starts inside, a slow steady drumbeat in your body. Follow that song—out into the meadows and let the birds join in the symphony.  Don’t try to pin down the feeling or stuff it in a jar.  Just let this lightness wrap around you and tease your skin like a lover’s fingers.  

Don’t look too hard, either, for the thing you think you want. Just fill yourself up with the luscious energy that makes you feel whole without arms to hold you—those will come in time.

Now here comes the hard part: Shake off the desperation.  Shut out the voices that say too old too hard too picky too aloof too needy too demanding too sexy too strange too wild too much. All they’re really saying is that they wish they were brave enough to dance with the meadow bees in broad daylight. Unafraid and safe in the knowledge that the Universe is wiser than you and easily bypasses your childish attempts to control your future.  What you want right here and now—the thing you try to capture with your butterfly net—it’s inside you, not in paperback pulp and shredded roses.

So stop waiting for it to happen to you. This love story. 

You are a love story.  Know it. Feel it.  Let it saturate every part of your being.  Say it and embody it:

I am a love story. 

I am a love story. 

I am a love story. 

Hold that phrase up like an offering to your soul.

Aren’t you eager to see how it unfolds now that you are no longer swallowing the torn pages of someone else’s story?

Too much work!  I know that’s what you’ll say. 

This, from the person willing to swallow their own nasty spit and stitches and dance naked in the moonlight—or work overtime to pay for pink-stained water pretending to be an aphrodisiac.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

Witchier Than Ever...

When I first started this blog, oh, almost ten years ago, I got in the habit of starting each year with a new year’s resolution, something to meditate on for the year. I did everything from slow living, radical self-care, and thinking about living more sustainably.  After a while, many of these things became an integral part of my life. Then the pandemic happened and I felt a decreased desire to focus too hard on another goal, even if it was rooted in my desire for cultivating a more magical life.

There’s nothing wrong with making resolutions—in fact, I rather like the idea of choosing something to gently meditate on throughout the year. It’s like my daily tarot card reading. It’s nice to have something to help you get clarity on what you want to manifest in your life or help you explore your inner world.  Intention setting is one of the most mundane forms of magic-making and all the more powerful for its simplicity. 

That said, when I took a pandemic-inspired step back, I realized that I’d gotten better (despite a few bumps in the road), at integrating things like self-care and energetic awareness into my daily life.  Part of it came from years of practice.  The other part, from writing Practically Pagan ~ An Alternative Guide to Magical Living.  Writing that book helped me return to the fundamentals of magical living, ways of being that are intuitive and seamlessly integrated into our daily lives.  Writing has always been one of the most powerful forms of spell-crafting for me.

In the process, I got rid of the things cluttering up my life: complicated exercise regimes, things that made me feel bad about myself, the constant need to apologize or over-explain things, saying yes to too many demands, self-doubts, and anxieties that lead to bad habits in an effort to self-soothe.  I got rid of people, too. I have no room for pandemic-deniers and performative allies in my life, and joyful hex bigots out of my space.

In their place, I created more space for unexpected magic. I cultivated my relationship to the tarot and to seeds—soul seeds and turnip seeds, aggressively joyful hollyhock seeds and the seeds of dreams I hope to nourish in the coming year.  I gave into my inner kitchen witch and bought a pizza stone—then rigorously tested the best ways to make a pizza (wink wink).  I stopped reading books that bored me and binge-read series that brought me joy.  I trusted my intuition more even when it seemed to go counter to the surface of things.   I lit beeswax candles and made time for cat cuddles at the end of the day.  I learned the gentle art of divine receptivity.

I grew things. I made things. I dreamed about a lot of things.  And I conjured some things, too.  I listened.  At times I spoke.  I let my body—the ripples of pleasure and coils of tension—tell me what I did and didn’t need in my life.  Mostly I embraced my deeply introverted need for solitude and the healing revelations that can only come with time spent in silence. 

In other words, I allowed myself to embrace my full witchiness.  In my own way and via my own path.  The past few years have been hard in so many ways that I’ve had to make a conscious effort not to harden my heart or shut down as I pour all my energy into trying to maintain important boundaries.  Don’t get me wrong, boundaries are essential!  And I do keep my heart safe from the people who would abuse my kindness and empathy.  But my inner-bruja has also helped me remember that I ferociously maintain those boundaries so that I can have the space and safety to nourish joy, Eros energy, and sacred simple pleasures. 

Sometimes the best thing we can do for ourselves is to trust in our ability to keep ourselves safe from the proverbial demons of the world so that we may hold space for the divine.  It is no small thing to allow our energy to flow, welcome in divine receptivity, and make room for unexpected magic. 

So this year? My new year’s resolution is to be witchier than ever. 

What magic are you hoping to conjure this new year?

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

Healing Face Serum with Calendula & Vitamin E

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s overpriced organic beauty products that trick people into thinking that more money equals more healing properties. Not so! Over the years, as longtime readers of my blog know, I’ve made my own body butter, scrubs, and makeup that are just as luscious and eco-friendly as what you can get at a nice natural market—without the sticker shock.

One of my favorite beauty products to make of late has been this healing face serum, that hydrates and softens my face and neck. It will give you that eternally youthful glow! It also makes a great stocking stuffer and little extra gift for anyone wanting to pamper themselves.

I most often use my homemade calendula-infused oil in this healing face serum, although you can use plain almond oil if you prefer—you just won’t get quite the same healing properties. Calendula oil is perfect for nourishing and revitalizing your skin, especially in the colder months when our skin can start to look dull and rough.  The vitamin E, raspberry seed, and rosehip oils all have wonderful vitamins that brighten and tone the skin and act as antibacterial agents to prevent breakouts.  For a nice scent and extra anti-bacterial properties, I like to add a few drops of clove oil.

Healing Face Serum:

Container:

Small bottle with dropper

Ingredients:

1/4 cup calendula oil

1/8 tsp organic vitamin e oil

1/8 tsp raspberry seed oil

1/8 tsp rosehip oil

1-3 drops clove essential oil (optional)

Mix all ingredients in a small bottle and shake well.  Store in a cool, dry place for up to six months.  To use, wash face thoroughly and pat dry.  Then add a few drops of this serum onto your palms and gently massage on your face before you go to bed at night or at the start of the day before you apply any makeup or sunscreen.  You can even lightly dab a little extra around your eyes at night to minimize wrinkles.  As you apply, think of the luminous sun-kissed skin of summer and the fiery delights of a summer love affair.  Know that you can reignite this flame, even in the depths of winter.  

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

Harvesting Sunshine for Rainy Days: A Recipe for Calendula Oil

I love Autumn. The season is like amber, distilling the joys of summer in its honeyed essence for future pleasure.  It’s an important thing to do: cultivate and stock up on happiness, sunshine for rainy days.  That’s why so much of my brujeria practice is focused on pleasure magic or the intentional conjuring of the luscious hedonistic energy in our day-in, day-out.  

Let’s face it: we can get stingy with our joy.  I blame this on the puritanical roots in Western culture that have made us forget our deeper and more profound pagan legacies that cultivate a natural sensuality in all things. Pleasure—that bone-deep, life-affirming stuff—happens when we live in harmony with the earth and the natural cycles of life.  It’s when we listen to our inner voices that tell us what will truly fulfill us, not the loud mindless business of mainstream society.  And it’s when we allow ourselves to dream, hope, and conjure things that make us feel good…just because.  We can learn a lot about ourselves by understanding what gives us this unfiltered sense of happiness.

Autumn has always been the perfect time to reflect on these things, as we enjoy the fruits of the year’s labor while setting aside some of that abundance for the days when we can’t make our own sunshine.  What do we prioritize when it comes to harvesting and preserving?  What can’t we live without when the days get short and the nights long and cold?  As I marinate on these questions, I’m drawn to the brightest of flowers: the humble marigold and her medicinal cousin, calendula.  

While many people conflate the two flowers, these sunflower family members are actually two distinct plants with similar magical properties.  First, there is the marigold from the Tagetes genus which is the flower we most often see in Dia de Los Muertos celebrations.  Traditionally, this flower symbolizes the transience of life as it blossoms and fades fairly quickly, but I tend to think of it as more symbolic of eternal life.  Even when the bloom fades, the petals are easily harvested and put to further use.  You can also collect the thin black seeds and begin again.  See?  Life doesn’t end. It merely transforms itself, so long as you live in harmony with the ebb and flow of our natural rhythms.  The marigold is also a very joyful flower.  It’s hard not to smile when you’re holding a bouquet of orange, yellow, and red edible pompoms!  

These flowers are also natural pest deterrents and extremely hardy, able to grow almost anywhere with little fuss or care.  I love the metaphor of this: their sunshine magic banishes proverbial energetic bugs and promises us that our happiness is not as fragile as we might think.  I like to harvest marigolds from my own garden or purchase from a reliable organic local producer to sprinkle in salads or to add a pop of color to my herbal teas. Every time I put a marigold in my mouth, I am reminded of the fire in my belly and a passion that cannot be tamed.  

The marigold’s cousin, calendula, or Calendula officinalis, often more colloquially known as pot marigold or common marigold, looks like a yellow daisy.  This is the flower herbalists and kitchen witches use to concoct healing potions for the skin.  Every year, I love to get some locally harvested and dried organic calendula or pull it from my own garden to make calendula-infused beauty oil.  I use it in everything from soothing face serums and body butters to hair oils and cuticle creams.  Calendula is one of nature’s enteral soothers, softening the edges of our thoughts and acting as a healing balm to the soul.  

These are the magical plants I come back to each Autumn in an effort to bottle and jar as much sunshine as I can for the coming months.  I’m liberal with them all year round, wantonly planting them wherever I can and relishing their beauty from seedling to dried flower petals.  These are flowers that remind me of the eternal summer of my soul even as I make my way through the various seasons of my life.  I feel like I’m literally harvesting liquid sunshine! 

These flowers are pure sun magic, a reminder that life doesn’t always have to be so hard, that we have the power to chase away darkness, the power to welcome prosperity and healing.  Marigolds and calendula feel especially life-affirming to me in a post-pandemic world, as we relearn how to navigate the world safely and with joy, while not forgetting the sorrows of the past year—that’s Dia de Los Muertos marigold magic again, reminding us that we can mourn what has passed and still know the joy of transformation.  Calendula is then there to protect us from the fear and anxiety that might taint our thoughts and illuminate the way forward with passion, warmth, and a generosity of spirit. 

Neither of these fiery flowers will allow us to wallow or stagnate in the energy of the past.  Instead, they invite us to move forward with grace, love, and more than a little creativity.  Nothing is what it once was, but the marigold reminds us of our profound capacity for blissful metamorphosis.  It might feel like death, but it is only a rebirth.  Like Persephone returning to the underworld in Autumn, these plants remind us that there is much joy in turning inward, going slow, and basking in the honeyed abundance of the season.

As I prepared each year for Samhain and Dia de Los Muertos, for me a time to honor the Dark Goddess and release the dead parts of myself, I always make sure to make a batch of calendula oil and my healing face serum, one of my favorite ways to use this oil infusion.  I use only organic ingredients since it is going on my body.  As I make it, I think of all the glorious parts of summer, the parts of myself I want to give more light to, and the passions I want to nourish.  I tend the jar through November, infusing it with gratitude and a deep appreciation for the love in my life and the abundance I’ve conjured this past year.

One of the great things about this recipe is that it is so versatile. You’ll notice I didn’t give exact quantities in my ingredients list. That’s because you should feel free to make as much or as little of this oil as you want. You can make it any time of year, but my personal ritual is to make it during the late Autumn. I prefer to use dried calendula as it is easier to work with (fresh leaves are more likely to go rancid).  Similarly, I like to opt for the cold steep method, rather than the faster heated method.  

I love the meditative process of allowing the oil to infuse for six weeks as I feel it gives it more time to absorb the good energy I’m imbuing into the concoction. Every time I use these oils, I’m reminded of the abundance mindset I cultivate day-in, day out, and the infinite pleasure I get from invoking the sun magic of the marigold and the calendula.  

Recipe for Calendula Oil

Tools:

1 sterilized glass jar 

1 bottle the same size as the jar

cheesecloth

funnel

Ingredients:

1 part organic dried calendula leaves 

2 parts organic almond oil 

2-3 drops organic vitamin E oil

Instructions:

Fill a clean jar halfway with organic calendula leaves.  Cover completely with almond oil, making sure to leave about two inches of space at the top of the jar as the flowers will expand as they absorb the oil.  Add a few drops of vitamin E oil to act as a preservative.  Use a plastic lid if you can.  If you have to use a metal lid, place a piece of parchment paper between the jar and the lid, as the metal can sometimes rust. 

Let sit in a cool, dry place for 4-6 weeks, shaking periodically.  Make sure to mark the start date on the jar to keep track of your infusion time.  When I shake the jar, I make sure to consciously think of the medicinal and magical properties of this flower so I can infuse my good intentions into the blend. 

When it’s ready, strain oil through a cheesecloth draped over a funnel into a dark bottle and store in a cool, dry place for up to six months. Use on its own or in body butters and oils.  It’s great for eczema or sensitive skin.  

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

The Bruja's Guide to Everyday Magic

With the publication of Practically Pagan ~ An Alternative Guide to Magical Living, many readers have asked me what I mean when I say I write about and practice ‘everyday magic.’ In fact, a number of people have picked up my new book expecting complex spells and occult practices, only to be disappointed by pages filled with anecdotal stories and tips about energy, intention, and conjuring so subtle it’s part of our daily lives. The irony, of course, is that these simple acts of energetic awareness—what some people call mindfulness or intentional living—are actual magical practices! These daily conjurings might lack some of the sparkle and flash of more elaborate mystic practices, but they are some of the most powerful forms of spell casting and an important foundation for any kind of magical practice.

I’m all about keeping it simple. Our thoughts are spells. Our energy tells us everything we need to know about a specific situation or person, as does their vibe. Our daily habits shape the kind of life we want to live—so we need to be intentional about it. We can also sometimes get a little carried away with the theater of the occult world, so much so that the real magic gets lost under the hocus-pocus. I think of it as burning incense to cleanse your home when the space is dirty and what you really should be doing is giving it a good scrub down. Light those incense, sure, but don’t ignore the important task of tending your sanctuary. It’s not just dust and crumbs on the floor, but stagnant energy that needs to be cleared out through the literal act of cleaning. That’s the thing with magic: the best kind is simple, but also hard work.

Hard work—but worth it. So if you’re just beginning your journey into the mystic world or are a long-time pagan or witchy soul wanting to get a refresher on foundational practices, check out my Bruja’s Guide to Everday Magic below.

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational blog celebrating life’s simple pleasures, everyday mysticism, and delectable recipes that are guaranteed to stir the kitchen witch in you. If you enjoyed what you just read and believe that true magic is in the everyday, subscribe to my newsletter below for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!