Kitchen Sink Dumplings

You’ve probably noticed, dear readers, that I’ve been a little slower getting out regular blogs and newsletters these past few months. That’s because I’ve been cleaning up my website and social media accounts (in addition to dealing with all that is pandemic life, of course). I’ve had a lot of fun cleaning up my website, in particular, because it’s shown me just how far I’ve come since I started blogging eight years ago. Plus, I’ve found a few blog posts that I meant to post but forgot about. Oops!

Take this one I wrote on making kitchen sink dumplings back in 2018. I know! I wrote it three years ago (or three hundred if we are measuring it in pandemic years) for my year of buying, using, and wasting less. Truth be told those are things I haven’t been as great about this past year as we’ve all had to prioritize safety over sustainability. I hope to one day soon get back to doing my own grocery shopping using my own produce and canvas bags instead of relying on delivery and plastic packaging, even as I understand the importance of not doing those things right now. Safety first!

Still, this recipe strikes me as a great one for stay-at-home life. It helps you utilize whatever you have in your kitchen without needing to run an extra errand or have another order delivered. It’s also a soothing meditation for when you have a whole afternoon at home and want to relax in the kitchen. Plus, it’s pretty tasty! Check out my three-year-old musings below for the recipe.

Original Post

When it comes to reducing waste, I've learned to get creative with food scraps. All those odds and ends--from a tiny wedge of cheese to the handful of shredded cabbage and the half a celery stick--are easily forgotten after a trip to the grocery store. Usually, those scraps end up in my compost, but lately, I've been trying to make sure I use everything.

Enter this Kitchen Sink Dumpling recipe adapted from The Woks of Life's veggie dumplings recipe.  This has become one of my go-to recipes for when I have more greens than I know what to do with. A handful of spinach, a bushel of kale, that half a cabbage head...it all works well for this dish! If you're like me and have a lot of greens in your fridge, then this is the dish for you. It works especially well for wilted greens or any veggie past its prime (I've been known to sneak in a half a bell pepper and few soft carrots into the mix).  

What I love about this recipe is that it includes homemade wrappers--perfect for a lady trying to limit her consumption of packaged goods.  Don't be scared off by this either. Like all my favorite recipes, it is SO darn easy! These also make delicious egg rolls; all you have to do is make the wraps bigger. I like to make a big batch and then freeze them for healthy quick lunches or dinners. It beats takeout, hands down. 

It should be mentioned here that I am no expert in dumpling making, but I like to think I make decent haphazard ones using a pizza cutter and some ravioli-making know-how. The sauce, too, is a little creation I've made over the years that mimics the flavor of soy sauce, rice vinegar and chile...I just use what I have on hand (usually liquid amino acids, apple cider vinegar, and some sort of chile paste) to avoid buying too many ingredients I may only use a time or two then forget about. Use what you have and feel free to sub ingredients as needed.

Ingredients

For the Wrappers:

1 1/2 cup flour

1/2 cup water

For the Filling:

1 inch ginger, minced

1 garlic clove, minced

1 sweet onion, minced

2 carrots, shredded

2 cups greens of choice, shredded

1 tsp chile pepper flakes

salt to taste

For sauce:

1 tablespoon liquid amino acids or soy sauce

1 tablespoon white rice vinegar or apple cider vinegar

1/2 tablespoon chile paste

For the wrappers, mix flour and water in bowl until dough forms (you may end up needing to add a little more water). Let sit for an hour.

In the meantime, heat oil in a large saucepan on medium. Add ginger, garlic, chile flakes and onions and cook until translucent, about 5-10 minutes. Add remaining ingredients and simmer, stirring every few minutes, until greens are cooked through, roughly 10-15 minutes.  Add salt to taste.  Remove from heat and let cool, about 30 minutes. Once mixture is cool, blend either using an immersion blender or food processor, until ingredients are paste-like. This makes sure that each dumpling is more or less uniform in flavor (I'm not yet good enough at dumpling-making to make them uniform in shape!)

To make the dumplings, roll out half of the wrapper dough on a lightly floured surface. Run pizza cutter or knife through dough so that you have roughly 2 in. x 2 in. squares. Place a heaping tablespoon of filling in each square and then gather the wrapper's edges together. I like to fold mine into triangles and then crimp the edges. Repeat until you've used up all your ingredients. 

To cook, heat 2 tablespoons of oil on medium in skillet and cook dumplings for two minutes, flipped halfway to brown the other side.  For sauce, mix room temperature ingredients in mason jar and shake until combined. Serve with rice and pickled veggies (picture here), topped with scallions, or on their own. 

Makes roughly 2 dozen. Enjoy!

Enchantment Learning & Living is an inspirational collection of musings touching on life’s simple pleasures, everyday enchantments, and 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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Lessons in Slow Living

This time last year, I was getting serious about slowing down and getting grounded after the publication of my first book and as I started to wrap up a series of large curriculum development projects in my professorial life. I was proud of everything I did but also realized I couldn’t sustain that workload, nor could I sustain the intense extroverted energy that I’d been putting out into the world to accomplish those things. I am, at heart, an introvert, after all, and if I don’t have my quiet, my solitude, and my unstructured time, I can’t nourish my soul.

Little did I know that a pandemic would sweep across the globe, hitting my city in mid-March. We went on immediate lockdown for six weeks and everything went into moving my students online and doing what I could to support my community during this unprecedented time. It was messy, hard work, as it was for everyone. Still is, really.

But there was also stillness. Six-week of lockdown—home. Quiet. I couldn’t drive around or wasn’t running between multiple campuses. I also recognize my privilege and it is with profound gratitude that the colleges I work at immediately moved to remote learning and that I could safely work from home when so many suffered from unemployment, contagion, and more. The past year has become a time where the issues and problems of our regular lives were pushed to the forefront. I could no longer ignore my feelings of burnout, and, like so many others, the pandemic became a time where I had to get real about what I wanted in my life and what I didn’t.

The biggest lesson I learned during this time is that I used busyness—unnecessary professorial projects, draining social activities, and trying to push myself back into more traditional academic scholarship—as a way of hiding. If I was too busy, I didn’t have room to feel certain things or think seriously about if I wanted to do any of this. But when I was forced to be physically still due to the pandemic, I was also forced to face some hard truths about how I was living and why I felt the need to slow down in the first place.

So I slowed down. I let myself feel what I needed to feel and took a good hard look at my life. Then I got rid of anything that was weighing me down. I realized that many of my teaching projects weren’t equitable, as I gave out far more to projects than I was being compensated for. So I stopped giving energy to these energetic sink-holes, vowing to only take on projects in which I was compensated for my time, expertise, and labor. Then I turned to many of my social outlets, including some bookclubs I ran. As it turned out, many of those things were all fine and good until life got complicated. So I put an end to those too, even though it hurt a little.

The last thing I looked at was the many writing projects I was exploring, from pursuing scholarly work again, to critical essays, and other modes of expression. As it turns out, I’m a bit of a slut for words. I love stories I. love talking about them and analyzing them and learning about the historical and cultural moments that produced them. But what I love more than any of that is writing them. So that’s where I’m directing my focus now. After ten years of (mostly) healing from graduate school and the trauma of academia, I’m focusing on my first love: storytelling. I’ll still be writing about everyday magic and all things brujeria. In fact, my second book, Practically Pagan ~ An Alternative Guide to Magical Living, will be out this fall. But I’m also more seriously committed to moving more deeply into the realm of fiction…look for more stories like Hungry Business in the near future.

All in all, this year of slow living has helped me return to my core belief in everyday magic. I’m less about burning the midnight oil and more about being in bed early so I have time to read before settling in for a night of deep dreaming. I’m about having time in the morning to savor a cup of coffee on my patio and an hour in the afternoon to take a walk or tend my garden. And I’m about allowing myself the time and space I need to process how much the world has changed in one short year.

Now, when I feel the desire to take on a new project or add one more thing to my already full plate I ask myself the following questions:

Is it sustainable? That is, is this something that I can do long-term when life gets tough? Or is it only something I can maintain when I’m operating at 100% and there are no plot twists coming my way? If I can’t picture myself tending these things after a rough week, then the truth is I don’t have the energy to tend them when things are good.

Is it enjoyable? Does this activity fundamentally bring me joy? Or am I driven by my ego or toxic social norms to do it? There’s a lot I took on, in retrospect, because I was trying to prove myself or conform to a world that doesn’t believe in magic. Other stuff I explored because I was always trying to heal the traumatizing experience that was graduate school or reclaim my untainted enjoyment of scholarship. Now, I recognize that I don’t need to keep scratching at those old wounds or force myself to be anything other than I am. Instead, I simply follow the joy.

Is it nourishing? This last question is all about understanding what fills up our souls and provides a bone-deep sense of health and healing. If something makes me feel ragged or anxious, I don’t do it. Period. I’ve looked at my workload and done what I can to make online learning manageable and nourishing for both me and my students. I take time in my week to practice self-care. I allow myself to turn my thoughts inward and ignore the hysterical energy that too-often contaminates the air, much like COVID. I allow myself to seek refuge in stories that nourish me and help me discover better ways of being.

I hope, dear readers, that you’ve been able to find some wisdom during this difficult time, too. I look forward to journeying deeper into the realm of everything magic with you this year!

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 Twitter.  Thanks for following!

On Twinkle Lights

I sometimes forget the light. When it is cold and dark and I am tired of being brave. I sometimes dwell on all the ugly tangles and hidden sneaky things when the moon is out—so bold and beautiful in her naked glory. Why must I see only the shadows she casts, rather than relish her bright light that sends hungry shades fleeing?

I sometimes forget that the darkest of winter isn’t the darkness of the soul. It’s my time to tend my roots and veins, my unfurled spine and dreams tucked between my ribcage—all the things that don’t need sun to grow, just my attention. So I make space. I spread out long and wide across my mat and relearn a body with so many stories packed inside it. What a relief to let them breathe and expand! I get big and bold in my daydreams, too, crossing continents and universes when I must stay put inside my apartment. Then I let my stories get louder, sweeping away the clouds with their piercing joy. We are allowed to know the ripe sweet burst of pleasure even when we’ve forgotten what it tastes like.

I sometimes forget to be the light. When it is so much easier to go dim and stop stoking the fires of my heart. But then I see tiny dots of hope in the darkest corners of a very dark year, reminders that when the earth seems dead, it is merely sleeping, gathering energy to bloom again in the spring. And there is always a spring.

Those little twinkle lights—so small and fragile—hardly anything at all. But enough to pierce the heavy cloak of midnight. Enough to poke holes in heavy thoughts and watch them sink to the bottom of my consciousness. Enough of them to light up a whole room—even just the one that refuses to be swallowed up in despair. Now that’s a worthy achievement.

They remind me that I can be a tiny spark of hope and not the wild bonfire I’m always expecting myself to be. I don’t have to keep feeding the dry-wooden fears that too-easily ignite and burn out of control.

I once forgot to make my home in the dark so that I may see the light. Now? I watch the setting sun. I feel the cold and silence creep in with the dusk. And I smile.

Time for twinkle lights and conjuring best done in in the velvet embrace of night.

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 Twitter.  Thanks for following!

Brujeria

So I spend a lot of time talking with fellow witchy folk, pagans, practitioners of nature spirituality, and the plain old curious, about how we define things like witchcraft. I talk to my college students about this too, as we analyze and deconstruct representations of witchcraft in classic literature, pop culture, and other media.
Like being mestiza, being a bruja means different things to many different practitioners.

As with all communities, witches are not a monolith. There are Wiccans and pagans, natural witches and practitioners whose craft developed out of popular culture representations of powerful women. Then there are those who practice culturally specific forms of their spirituality. It takes all types. Some go deep down the rabbit hole of esoteric occultism, other just hoard too many mason jars and acknowledge the divinity in every living being. Likewise, there are those whom mainstream culture would consider witches, but identify more as folk conjurers. I could go on about all the nuances here but for the sake of brevity (this is only a blog post, after all), I’ll keep it focused on what practicing Brujeria means to me.

First, I specifically use the term bruja here and not witch (although I use that too) because I want to make it clear that my cultural identity as mestiza is an important part of my magical practice. I can’t separate one from the other. And while there are many things I do that are in alignment with general witchy practices (like hoarding all those mason jars), there are some aspects of my bruja identity that are singular to the mestiza culture and my relationship to it (again, we’re not a monolith so I’m not speaking for all mestizx or brujx here).

At the end of the day, being a bruja for me is about celebrating my interconnectedness with the earth, the spirit realm, and those who want to live more soulfully. It’s about reclaiming my right to joy and acknowledging that there is more to this life than we can readily see with the naked eye. It’s about healing generational and ancestral trauma and developing narratives beyond systemic oppression. And it’s about recognizing that I have the power—the magic—to shape my own story. I am a writer as well as a bruja, after all, so I know that there is power in words, that stories are healing spells, and that book magic is the most powerful form of conjuring.

Social Justice & Brujeria

I can’t talk about being a bruja without talking about social justice. The term bruja or witch has been used throughout history to suppress marginalized identities. In New Mexico, Spanish colonizers, aided by the Catholic church, applied the term to shamans, curanderas (folk healers), Indigenous people, midwives…the list goes on and on. Basically, if someone represented a threat to the church, meaning they had access to knowledge beyond the scope of the colonizers, then they were villainized. It was a classic case of silencing any and all voices that challenged authority or posed a threat to white Catholic patriarchy. This lead to white-washing history and ongoing cultural erasure, assimilation, and appropriation. Anyone whose family has been in New Mexico long before it was an official state is a product of that history of colonization. We have two choices when it comes to grappling with that history: We can perpetuate the trauma or we can push back against lateral and systemic oppression.

Enter the bruja. She is an archetype that reclaims the once negative term witch and finds power in her otherness. Brujeria is about taking our power back and honoring our divine right to joy, pleasure, hope, happiness. We refuse to perpetuate those histories of trauma and break the cycle by crafting our own healing journeys that go beyond performing our culture or our violent history for mass consumption. We make marginalized identities more visible and pushing back against white supremacy, toxic patriarchy, and anything that tries to limit our joy. We center the mestizx identity. We reclaim what we can of our folk magic roots and mixed-race heritage, and forge ahead with new stories, new ways of being. Integral to those new stories are a celebration of inclusion, sustainability, equity, and radical self-care. How we go about all this might look a little different for every bruja, but it’s something we all do.

Natural Spirituality & Everyday Magic

Here’s where my bruja practice might different from other witchy practitioners. I’m all about what I call divine receptivity. rather than traditional spell-crafting (the kind of stuff you see in witchy pop culture representations), divine receptivity asks you to reconnect with yourself and the universe, listening to the life signs and synchronicities that will guide you throughout your day. So I’m not trying to force a specific outcome, but rather living more in tune with nature and my own natural rhythms. I set intentions and I work hard to manifest them—but I also listen when the universe tells me something is not meant to be mine. I let go of what I think I should have or what my life should look like and trust the signs that always lead me to something even more abundant and daring than I ever could have dreamed up on my own.

And yeah, there’s some spell work in there too, in the form of tea blending, body butter making, and stew stirring. Every mundane act is a form of intentional conjuring to me as I relearn my profound capacity for joy and fulfillment. I practice what I can of curanderismo. I talk long walks in nature. I read by lamplight. I write and deal the tarot. I plant healing herbs in my garden and cook delicious meals. I enjoy good company and nourishing conversations. All that is magic to me.

Natural spirituality is also about respecting my internal life, my autonomy, and my right to privacy. Healing from colonization is, in part, recognizing that I do not have to share culturally-specific parts of my practice with anyone outside of it. I do not have to perform for a white gaze or always make my magic available to those who want in. There are some things you can share with the world, and some things are just for you. Like any good bruja knows, it is essential to protect your magic and not feeling like you have to give it away. Again, this goes back to the social justice aspect of my craft: I am not required to deplete or exploit my natural resources in order to aid those unwilling to do the hard work of healing for themselves.

Pleasure Magic & the Divine Feminine

Here’s where things get really juicy. Once you’ve come to terms with generation trauma and disrupted the cycle, once you’ve opened yourself to divine receptivity, the world of pleasure magic opens up to you. This is all about sex positivity, body positivity, joy positivity. I know joy positivity might sound redundant, but I’ll tell you a little dark secret about experiencing joy as a marginalized identity: it often leads to guilt. Did you earn that doctorate degree you’ve been working night and day for the past few years? Guilt! Did you get offered that highly competitive job at an inclusive and progressive college based on the years you spent developing your CV for just that? The shame! Oh, you wrote a multi-awarding winning book on ordinary magic? Tragedy! Have a hot date with someone who’s awesome and makes you feel good? Slut!

Except all those things are actually quite wonderful. But what happens is that every time you change the narrative about women of color in this case from oppressed and struggling, to successful and empowered, you feel pangs of guilt and shame. It’s called internalized oppression. And it’s a bitch. There’s also quite a bit of social shaming involved here (aka lateral oppression). People might say you’re getting a little too cocky or that god has blessed you or worse, you got where you are because of affirmative action. In all cases, those statements either intentionally or intentionally disempower you and make you feel as if you don’t deserve the accomplishments you’ve worked hard for. Let’s face it, an empowered woman of color is a threat to the social norm. Throw in some lingering Catholic guilt and pretty soon you start finding ways to make yourself suffer.

That’s where pleasure magic and the divine feminine come in. They push back against internalized oppression. Pleasure magic is the daily invocation of all things sensual and joyful, from the sacred simple pleasure of an afternoon cup of tea to the titillating delights of a good romance novel or the profound ecstasies of an intimate relationship. Of course, we look to the goddess within, the divine feminine in all of us, regardless of our gender orientation, for guidance here. She allows us to value our emotions and instincts, to feel what we need to feel for healing and insight.

Invoking the divine feminine about reclaiming our right to joy and rejecting anything that tries to control how we should feel about our bodies, our sexuality, our accomplishments (our external life), or our magical practice (our internal life). Pleasure magic is all about autonomy—joyfully and rigorously asserting your right to explore and express yourself as you choose free from the pressures to perform your culture, perpetuate oppression, or diminish yourself in order to be more socially acceptable.

In claiming the title of bruja, I reclaim my autonomy. I conjure new narratives for myself and my community. I celebrate and advocate for inclusivity in all that I do. I revel in my pleasure magic practice. And I do not apologize for loudly, joyfully taking up space.

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!

A Special Halloween Story Release: Hungry Business

Happy Halloween, Samhain, and Dia de Los Muertos, readers! Every year around this time, I do a special Everyday Gothic blog where I was poetic about the darker aspects of the magical world. This year, I decided we needed a special treat.

I am so happy to announce the publication of my first short story, “Hungry Business,” from my very own Kitchen Witch Press. This is a creepy little tale about how causal dating is the zombie apocalypse of the soul. But where there’s heart, there’s hope. Reviewers have called this story creepy and comforting, gothic and cozy all at once. It’s a horror romance, with plenty of chills and thrills with the safety of a guaranteed HEA (Happily Ever After).

Find it here for only $0.99, unless you’re interested in waiting for my…

Halloween Giveaway!

As an extra special spooky bonus, I’ll be giving away for free “Hungry Business”on Friday October 30th and Saturday October 31st as part of Bewitching Book Tour’s Trick or Treat Halloween Book Event. Simply download your sale copy here on Friday or Saturday and get ready to enjoy this cozy gothic tale.

In the meantime, you can read more about “Hungry Business,” including advance praise and the synopsis, below.

Advance Praise

“The best zombie story I've read in a very long time and possibly because the story is so clever and the metaphor of zombification is so well done that it was like nothing I've ever read. The author has a great grasp of subtext and the story used it very cleverly. This author is now at the top of my to-watch list.” ~ Craig Hallum

“Hungry Business is a short story by Maria DeBlassie that manages to be a surprisingly large number of things very effectively all at the same time. It’s a creepy zombie story – with a neat premise about how being a zombie works and what you have to do to avoid it. At the same time, it’s a clever piece of social commentary where the being-a-zombie works as a metaphor for certain kinds of modern experiences. It is somehow both a sinister horror story and very funny, often both at the same time. It’s also a romance and a story about the nature of romance and the importance of romance stories.  

Author Maria DeBlassie has all of these things going on, but none of them get in the way of it being a charming and entertaining read. Impressive! Do check it out.” ~ Nimue Brown

Read more reviews on Goodreads and Amazon.

From the Back Cover

From the multi-award-winning author of Everyday Enchantments: Musings on Ordinary Magic & Daily Conjurings comes a cozy Gothic short story about searching for connection in a world that's forgotten the power of everyday magic.

Looking for love can be deadly... 

You know how it goes.  You go out, hoping to meet someone.  You wade through your fair share of brainless automatons, lifeless bodies, and ravenous undead good at passing as human.   

The more you go out, the less hope you feel and the colder your body gets.  But you keep at it.  All you need is one beating heart to match your own before yours stops pumping altogether.  How hard can it be to find one living, breathing human in a city full of bodies?  

Dating.  

It's hungry business.  

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!

Being Mestiza

I’ve been getting a lot of questions from readers about what I mean when I say I’m mestiza. That fact is always one of the first pieces of information in all my author bio and that’s intentional. Although the term has been around for a long time, I specifically use the definition from Gloria Anzaldua’s Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza (1987), which focuses on developing a new mestiza consciousness. For those that aren’t familiar with the term, mestiza or mestizaje means a person of mix-raced decent.

Being mestiza is different for everyone—everyone’s mix is a little different and, in many cases, few of us know everything about the mix that is our cultural background. This is because we are, in one way or another, products of colonization. And as a result of colonization, histories of the colonized sometimes get lost, erased, or suppressed. So it is important to remember that, like the wider Hispanic and Latinx communities, the mestizaje community is not a monolith. Our mixed heritage and our relationship to it are as complex and diverse as our backgrounds.

Identifying as mestiza then is a way of acknowledging the history of violence in our veins and undoing rigid cultural purity norms. We eschew conversations about who is the whitest or brownest. The purest Spanish or the most Indigenous. Celebrating our mixed-race heritage is one of the many ways we work to dismantle lateral oppression and white supremacy. It’s also a way of reclaiming the rich cultural practices that the colonizers tried to stamp out or villainize. Much of the legacy of witchcraft in New Mexico is one of the Spanish church villainizing—dare I say crucifying?—anything and anyone they didn’t understand or couldn’t control, which included many cultural practices outside the purview of the church.

I want to make it clear, before I go on, that I don’t speak for all mestizas as I write this. Again, each experience is unique, no mix is the same, just as our relationship to our mixed heritage is complex and individual. I’m likewise making some broad brushstrokes here, as this is a complex conversation that many communities have been having since colonization. So keep in mind that I’m only addressing some aspects of the very rich conversation as it relates to my personal experience, my writing, and my brujeria practice.

And I’m doing all this in the relatively small space of a blog when many have written books and dedicated entire careers to discussing this very topic. All by way of saying, what I’m writing here today is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to being mestiza. I’m also acknowledging here that explorations of my relationship to my cultural background will be ongoing and that, even as I write this, there will inevitably be things I won’t get right, nuances I gloss over, and complex conversations that aren’t fully unpacked. But to my mind, what is important is having the conversation. Articulating what this identity means to me right now, however incomplete. Part of pushing back against white supremacy is letting go of the need to be perfect, have all the answers, and produce a flawless text. My mestiza identity is about exploring my messy heritage and my messy relationship to it. Nothing is clean-cut about this history, so there will be no clean-cut conversations or answers.

New Mexican Mestizaje Consciousness

I often speak with my students about being mixed-race and how that is an integral part of my identity as a bruja. I identify specifically as mestiza, not Chicana, Spanish, Hispanic, or Latina. I never get offended when people do put me under those labels, as I know the conversation of being mestiza is pretty culturally specific, as is the difference between Spanish, Hispanic, and Latino labels and the history of colonization behind those terms.

In all honesty, all those terms are problematic and all those terms have different meanings depending on where you are in the world. For example, for native New Mexicans, Hispanic was the common term used when I was growing up. Nationally, we get lumped into the term Latinx since we are brown and Spanish speakers. Honestly? All those terms make me uncomfortable because I don't feel like they adequately express my mixed heritage. I likewise don’t judge those who wouldn’t know the nuances of those various terms because they are outside the cultural conversation. I mean, there are plenty of social and cultural conversations in which I’m an outsider, so I always appreciate it when someone kindly educates me when I get something wrong or if I’m simply unaware of it!

Embracing my mestiza roots, however, is a way for me to acknowledge that I am a product of histories of violence—and that I’m ready to move beyond them. New Mexico has a bloody history of Spanish conquistadors exploiting and violating Indigenous communities and, later, erasing them completely in an effort to sanitize and white-wash our history. Yet the legacy of the Spanish conquistadors is heavily romanticized while Native American cultures are silenced, appropriated, and exploited. What often gets left out in this highly sanitized version of our state history is that we have the blood of the colonizers and the colonized in our veins, the curanderas (folk healers and mystics), natural witches, and shamans—as well as the Catholic church. We are European. We are Ingenious. Some of us are also Latinx. Or a mix of other cultures. We all look different. We are always othered bodies because we cannot be easily categorized.

Therein lies our power. We are inherently transgressive because we don’t comfortably fit into the racial and ethnic stereotypes white patriarchy wants us to occupy. The evidence of this is something I always carry with me. I have a European last name. My skin is bronze but, in certain contexts, I can pass as white. So much of my existence inevitably challenges people’s preconceived notions of what it means to be a woman of color. I’m from a Spanish speak heritage but my speaking skills have deteriorated from adequate to mediocre. I would like to one day be fluent and try to practice more regularly. But my ability to speak the language (or not) does not make me more or less Latinx. I love Latin dance but I don’t practice the Catholic faith—something often heavily romanticized by people outside of our culture…but more on that in the next section. In each case, my very existence challenges traditional assumptions about what it means to be a woman of color and separates my relationship to my heritage from mainstream culture’s stereotypes about who I am.

I likewise honor my ancestral roots while also coming to terms with the fact that I can’t reach back for them. Some of us can reclaim other parts of our heritage, reclaim what’s been lost in a way that heals individuals and communities. For others, histories have been lost, so there is no way to fully recover what has been erased. Then there are those, like myself, who can’t look back. You’d be surprised by the ghosts and ancestral hauntings that get stirred up when you dig up family history. And, contrary to popular belief, not all ancestors are benevolent, a hard fact you have to learn when you’re a product of colonization. So I’ve closed the door to the past, though it sometimes calls to me. Instead, I’ve decided to look forward.

Mestizaje Bruja Activism

Here’s what I can reclaim: joy, pleasure, autonomy, and wholeness. That’s where bruja activism comes in.

For a start, bruja activism is about anti-racism. Claiming our mestiza roots pushes back against blood quantum, a colonial concept that pits Indigenous communities against one another in the battle for resources. Likewise, I acknowledge my ancestry and honor the histories I’ve learned, but I don’t pretend to know anything about rez life and don’t appropriate Indigenous experiences that aren’t mine. Again, there are a lot of different ways to explore and connect to our heritage.

We also resist the white-washing of our communities that celebrate only the European aspects of our heritage while ignoring or diminishing the value of the Latinx and Ingenious cultures that also make up who we are. But more importantly, it reminds us that, while we are all products of colonization in one way or another, we have the power to become more than those histories of violence and oppression. All of this is a rejection of white supremacy and the lateral oppression it feeds as communities of color try to regulate who is the most Latinx, the most Ingenious, the most Spanish, the most whatever, thus perpetuating systemic racism.

Instead, we take our power back. We reclaim what we can of our known Indigenous and Latinx traditions (so long as it doesn’t bring up old ghosts and traumas). We acknowledge that there are powerful magics in our bloodlines even if we can’t fully reclaim them or know their origin. It is enough to know they are there. We forge new paths. We push back against cultural norms of what mestizaje should look like. Again: we are not a monolith. Not easily categorized or labeled, and so, harder to control.

Mestizaje brujeria is also about rejecting traditional religion, at least for me. There’s no denying that the Catholic church historically suppressed women and other minorities—and continues to. From the Spanish witchhunts to the exploitation and violation of female bodies, the church is no friend of the mestiza. That history of religious trauma is something we still carry with us. I cannot romanticize Catholicism like so many outside our culture (and, yes, within it) can because I cannot separate its cultural and historical value from the traumas it has inflicted on women of color in particular. I’m also not here to police other mestizas’ relationship to the Catholic church. Again, our relationship to all aspects of our cultural roots is deeply personal and complex. What is medicine for some is poison to another. I only resist being told how I should feel about my own relationship to my heritage, especially by those who want to appropriate it or romanticize it without experiencing the burden of that history in their veins. That easily becomes another form of colonization, after all.

My path is one of reclaiming curanderisma, natural spirituality, and natural sexuality freed from the chains of colonization, religion, and white patriarchy. The power of mestizaje is the power of shaping our own narrative. When we are so often confined to stories about the past, histories of trauma, and oppression, we forget that we are also stories of resilience, strength, and transformation. Abundance and hope. Love and healing. Through brujeria, I allow myself to explore my unfolding story outside of preconceived narratives rooted in historical oppression. I am allowed to know my body, myself, my soul beyond the mainstream (white) culture’s gaze. I am allowed to be whole, autonomous. And I am allowed to be the one who decides what that means and looks like for me.

I’m not entirely sure I’ve got it all figured out, either. In fact, I think it would be dangerous to assume so. But what I can say is that there is no separating my writer identity from being mestizaje, just as there is no separating my bruja identity from it. They are all one. Every word, story, insight that I commit to paper is all part of working through generational and ancestral trauma, conjuring a way of being beyond those legacies, and daring to see narratives of hope and healing in our futures. Having this conversation, working through the ambiguities and nuances, are all part of the magic. Putting these thoughts in writing on my blog…that’s part of the magic too.

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!

Easy Preserved Lemons Recipe

Four months into my stay at home life and I’m finding that one of my greatest comforts is time set aside each week for a little kitchen witchery. There’s something about creating a lovely meal or tinkering with my herbal apothecary that keeps me grounded and nourished. It reminds me that while there is much I can’t control right now, I do have tremendous power in the energy I put into the world, the loving communities I protect and nourish, and the kind of magic I can whip up within the safety of my sanctuary.

Lately, I’ve been drawn to working with the kind of things we think of as kitchen discards: coffee grinds, carrot tops, and lemon rinds. My younger sister, an artist in Italy who specializes in making wonderful creations from life’s discards, first taught me the beauty of the used up citrus peel. There is magic in taking something that seemingly has no value and making it useful once more.

Of course, I’m no stranger to the similar magic of taking a bitter pill and turning it into sweet medicine, like the year I learned how to make limoncello, the Italian liquor made from lemon peels. I had been going through a difficult time—detoxing from graduate school, moving home, and trying to find full-time work. And, you know, all-around trying to figure myself out. This limoncello was my potion, my spell for turning even the bitterest of fruits into something sweet. I’d first tasted it when I visited my sister in Italy for the first time. It was midnight in Florence on the Palazzo Vecchio. I sipped a cold glass of sunshine and, for the first time, felt my heart begin to mend. Years later, I look back on that time—first drinking, then learning how to make limoncello—and marvel at the profound conjuring and belief it took to remake some of my most heartbreaking experiences and use them for the foundation of a more magical life. That’s the power of limoncello.

Now, I return to the wisdom of the lemon, and the wisdom of Italian living, with this preserved lemons recipe. This is something common along the coast, in towns like Capri where lemons plentiful. They are the perfect way to make the bright taste of summer linger all through winter and make a great addition to any meal, sauce, or cheese platter. Their salty, tart flavor adds unexpected depth to dishes and puts those often-discarded lemon rinds to good use. It’s also the perfect kind of quarantine cooking…you slice and dice a few things, then you let it sit, just like my easy marinated olives.

Not going to lie—when I get tired of the world and the voices who refuse to believe the two pandemics (COVID-19 and racism) we’re living through are real, I retreat into my kitchen to bottle sunshine. This is not in an effort to forget about what’s going on outside my door, but to get grounded and nourish myself so that I am a force for good in the world. We’ve been given plenty of lemons this year. Doesn’t mean we can’t turn them into something beautiful.

I also love the idea of taking something like a whole lemon—peel, pith, and all—and turning it into something delicious and edible. Although not traditional, I’ve taken to throwing in sliced lemon rinds from juiced lemons into this recipe so that nothing gets wasted. I only use organic ingredients, as usual, but this is especially important for this type of recipe which uses the whole lemon, including the outer rind where pesticides and other gross chemicals can hide if you’re using conventional lemons. Even if you don’t usually use organic produce, definitely use organic for this recipe otherwise you’ll end up with pesticide-flavored marinade, yuck!

This is one of those versatile recipes where you use what you have and make as much as you want, so you’ll notice I don’t give specific measurements. The quantity of each ingredient depends on how much you want to make. For a small jar, like the one pictured, I used one lemon, one rind of another used lemon, the juice of about two lemons, and a few tablespoons of salt.

This is the perfect recipe for when you’re feeling a little salty, a little sunny, and want to conjure joy from the bitterest fruits.

Ingredients:

Lemons

Sea salt

Lemon juice

Lemon rinds (optional)

Instructions:

1. Wash lemons thoroughly and slice into spears or smaller wedges, whichever you prefer. Slice lemons rinds the same way if you are using them.

2. Sprinkle sea salt in the bottom of your chosen jar until it is covered. Add one layer of lemons and rub them with salt. Mash with spoon, then add another layer. Repeat until all your lemons are in your jar. Top with more salt and mash once more.

3. Pour fresh lemon juice over salted lemons until contents of jar are fully covered with juice.

4. Close jar and label it with the date. Store in fridge for 3-5 weeks, shaking once in a while.

5. After 3-5 weeks, your lemons are ready! Use the sparingly as a little goes a long way. Lasts indefinitely.

Serving suggestions: Top thin slices on kale pizza, mince to put until salad dressings, pair with aged gouda, or include in meat marinades. Enjoy!

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!

5 Things I Learned about the Tarot from Tarot Tuesdays

A little over two years ago, I began to study the tarot more seriously. I’d gotten my first deck a few years before in a spark of divine synchronicity. I’d been thinking about purchasing a tarot deck and learning more about it. I hadn’t told anyone about it though. It was more of a fleeting thought. Then, for my birthday a week or so later, I received my first deck from my parents. They said they read about it and it made them think of me—it was a feeling that wouldn’t go away. Clearly, the universe was telling me that studying the tarot was a good idea and was making sure I started on the right foot.

That first deck of mine was the female-POC centric Motherpeace tarot and it remains my favorite deck because it decenters patriarchy and whiteness with rounded cards that explore the Divine Feminine. It’s the one I keep for my personal, private use. A few years later, my older sister got me the Steampunk tarot. It’s the one I use when I need to feel limitless in my imagination and innovation, like any Steampunk heroine worth her salt. And this past winter, my younger sister gifted me a Spanish tarot deck, a lovely acknowledgment of my esoteric studies and our mestisaje roots—oh, and my perpetual desire to get better at my Spanish which sometimes falls by the wayside. I love all these tarot decks, each one speaking to me when and as I need their specific magic.

The deck I use for my writing and public bruja life, however, is the classic Rider-Waite tarot. I bought the Radiant edition from my local herb store because the bright colors appealed to my senses and my love of bold, loud things. I chose this deck specifically for my #TarotTuesdays project in which I would write a 78-word story based on #synchronicity and one of the cards in the 78-card tarot deck and post it on social media each week-ish. I chose this deck for the project because it is one of the oldest and most iconic of decks, and, historically, the foundation for many other decks.

Each week, I would think about whatever it was I was going through. I’d let my feelings wash over me, allow situations to flit in and out of my mind as they would while I shuffled the deck. When it felt right, I’d pull a card. I’d spend the next few days researching and learning about the card and pairing that knowledge with the personal experiences I was going through along with a heavy dollop of free-association. It was a beautiful journey that allowed me to explore the tarot and my relationship to the mystic world. I’m far from being an expert but, after writing stories inspired by those cards for the past two or so years, I think I have a solid foundation for deepening my knowledge of the tarot.

Here are the major things I learned from my Tarot Tuesdays project:

1. The more you deepen your bond to the cards, the more clarity you have in your readings. The tarot is its own energetic entity, which means you have to get to know it before you can ask it questions. Think of this as relationship building. Spend time with the cards—just shuffling, pursuing them, holding them in your hands. Even letting them sit in a stack on your writing desk is a good way to establish a bond. I know—this might sound a little too woo-woo for some, but you’re reading a witchy blog about tarot, so…talking about relationship building with your tarot deck shouldn’t be entirely unexpected. The big thing is that if you take the time to get to know your deck, the more you’ll get a sense of how you personally read the cards and what wisdom they have to offer you. If you don’t take your time with them, they won’t speak to you or the message will be muddled. Which leads me to my next lesson learned:

2. Each deck has its own energy. Think about how I just described my tarot collection earlier in this post. Each deck has its own kind of magic and its own wisdom to offer. It’s important to know that going in so that you can choose the right deck for the kind of reading you’re looking for. If you aren’t sure what that is, choose the deck that calls to you on an instinctive level—that’s the medicine you need. You also need to have a healthy respect for these divination energies. Don’t be flip when handling your deck or treat tarot reading as a party trick. That’s a good way to piss off the cards and make them stop speaking to you. As with all things mystic or supernatural, it’s a good idea to go in with a healthy respect for the unknown and the unseen. Dabbling or toying with those energies is never a good idea.

3. All cards are designed to help you and offer hope—even the ”bad” cards. The fives are notoriously bad cards, signaling chaos, reversals, and upending the status quo. Similarly, any card in reverse traditionally has more negative connotations—except for the fives reversed, because they are contrary in nature. Here’s the thing, though, reversals, disruptions, and chaos are all part of life and, when embraced and explored, offer hope and healing. Sometimes you need to upend the status quo! Or maybe you’re feeling stuck and these cards point out what it is that is keeping you from moving forward. They aren’t punishments or judgments (and if you feel that way when you get one of these cards, it’s likely you’re still working through toxic puritanical or religious norms…or maybe that’s just me). They’re more like insights and revelations. It’s important to remember that when you go about your tarot reading so that you don’t get stuck in the old superstitious readings of yore which can be a little more doom and gloom with these not-really-so-bad cards. Which reminds me…

4. Sometimes the scariest looking cards have the most hopeful wisdom to offer. We’ve all see the scary movie that shows the damsel in distress pulling the Death card or the Devil card right before things get full-on gothic. Or you have cards like the Ten of Swords, in which a figure is literally impaled by ten swords through the back and lies dead on the ground. It’s hard to think positively about such a brutal image, but, in fact, it’s asking you to face the thing you are most afraid of—the figure turned its back on their problems and tried to run, rather than face what the need to face. These scarier cards are like a good gothic tale. They want you to face the thing in the shadows, confront it so that you can move forward. They just use scary imagery to shake you out of complacency so you can hear their message. I’ve actually come to see them as incredible hopeful cards!

5. Everyone has a unique way of reading the cards. While there are some constants in most tarot readings, like the symbolism behind the major and minor acrana, it’s up to the diviner to interpret the nuances of it. You will develop your own personal way of reading the cards as you get to know the tarot more and nourish your bond with it. Around the first-year mark of my #TarotTuesdays project, I realized I was developing my own voice and my own take on the cards. I would get information from sources like Biddy Tarot, Wildly Tarot, and Modern Tarot and then let their wisdom sit with me. Naturally, my own take involved a dash of hope, a sprinkle of joy, a heaping serving of brujeria, and more than a little everyday magic.

Like I said earlier, I’m still not a tarot expert by any measure, but I think I’ve got a solid foundation to continue my tarot journey. I’d like to learn more about the individual symbolism of each card, the differences between the major and minor arcana, and maybe get to a point where I don’t have to consult my sources when I do a reading. But that, too, is part of the joy of depending your relationship to the tarot…the more time you spend with it, the more you learn, and the more wisdom it reveals to you. It just wants to know you are willing to put in the time.

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!

Easy Marinated Olives

One of the lighter sides of stay-at-home life is social media newsfeeds overflowing with home cooking experiments ranging from bread making experiments to creative kitchen-sink meals that help minimize trips to the store. People cook to feed their families, self-soothe, and otherwise relax and practice self-care. I love it! It’s like a collective conjuring of health and homey good vibes.

That said, as much as I like to cook, I’m not one of the home cooks that has a whole lot of energy for fancy recipes, much as I love to get my inner kitchen witch on. Teaching took a lot out of me which meant my own cooking experiments had to be easy, fun, and all-around low maintenance. All by way of saying, I seriously got into marinating olives.

Little dishes like tapas or Italian apertivo have to be some of my favorite dishes and I’ve been known to make a meal of good cheese, fresh crudités, and olives come summer Saturday nights. Add a delicious cocktail or glass of rose, and I’m in heaven!

Marinating olives has brought my happy hour fun to a whole new level. The trick is to start with a jar of good quality olives. I like Jeff’s Naturals, especially the castelvetrano and kalamata olives, but feel free to experiment with what the brands and olive types that you have on hand. You can also adapt the marinate to whatever portions you desire. Don’t have red wine vinegar? Use white or apple cider vinegar. This isn’t a standard recipe, per see, more like a set of guidelines. Think of this as a kitchen-sink recipe, where you use what you have on hand. I’ve never made the same type of marinade twice and I’ve had lots of fun experimenting with different herbs and spices. A strong citrus flavor tends to be my favorite, but play around and see what works for you.

This is a fun recipe when you want to try something new but don’t want to go full-on homesteader, baking your own sourdough bread or the like. It’s pretty foolproof compared to breadmaking and so utterly delicious. But I warn you, making these include certain side effects. You might find yourself putting on an old jazz record, arranging stray wedges of cheese on a plate, and pouring yourself a glass of wine. You might find, in short, that you want to put the world on hold for a bit and enjoy a lovely happy hour.

Ingredients:

1 jar of olives

1/4 cup vinegar

1/4 cup olive oil

2 cloves garlic, sliced

2 organic citrus peels or slices (lemon or orange work really well)

4-6 sprigs of herbs (my favorites include thyme, rosemary, and oregano)

1/2 tsp red chile flakes

1 tsp mustard seeds

1 tsp peppercorns

Add all ingredients except olive into a saucepan and simmer on the stove for ten minutes. Drain olives and place them in bowl. Pour ingredients in saucepan over olives, stir, and let sit on the counter until cool, about half an hour. Serve immediately, or store in a mason jar in the fridge for a few weeks. Enjoy!

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!

To Allow

A noun. To give permission. To give the necessary time and opportunity for.

An ugly thing when we don’t give it to ourselves. A sweet thing, a chocolate truffle of a thing, when we sneak it between our lips to know how voluptuous life can be. And a daring thing when bestowed on another, like an offering or a promise to see what might unfold between willing hearts and an open road. Mostly though it is a thing just outside my grasp.

I can’t always tell what it is. I can only track it by its footprints.

Like when I banished the box of ghosts I’d hidden in my closet. It’s not my responsibility to carry them with me everywhere I go. I am allowed to move on from my past and the things from the beyond that are happiest when I’m in Purgatory. Or the time I jumped off the merry-go-round because I wanted to feel solid earth against the soles of my feet. I’m allowed to stop running in circles, going nowhere fast. I’m tired of being dizzy and clinging to toy chariots. I taste it in when I wrap my lips around the word “no” and feel the heady rush of the time I’ve freed up for myself, the obligations I’ve released in favor of protecting my solitude.

I’m beginning to figure out what it feels like to allow.

Sometimes I even find it in the things I’ve given away. The too-tight dress. The ugly thought. The buttoned-up book from the person who wished I were, well, a little more buttoned up. I’m allowed to be loud in who I am, even when my soul is found in the hush of a spring morning and the quiet of my garden, hair loose around my shoulders, feet bare, eager to kiss the soil with their heels and toes.

I’m allowed to feel joy even when the world isn’t always a joyful place. It has taken me so long to find the sunshine within my ribcage that I refuse to lose it now. It is my seed that I coaxed into blooming. And what wonderful flora it has made! What wonderful medicine it will become when the flowers fade and dry and are ready to be plucked and stored in one of my many bottles and pots. My home apothecary is made up of many a preserved feeling so that when it rains, I can dip into my jar of sunshine and remember that stormy weather is a fleeting thing.

Here’s what else I allow myself:

A quiet place. Space. A blank page to see what happens next.

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!

Everyday Magic for Difficult Times: Journey Into Self with Radical Self-Care & Slow Living

I started the year with one goal in mind: to live more slowly. I’d been feeling that I’d been moving too fast, zooming from here to there, and caught in a cycle of overworking. I wanted more space for quiet. More time to reconnect with myself and those I love. Space to detox from my busy addiction. Little did I know that two short months later, I would be practicing social distancing due to the pandemic. It certainly slowed me down!

It was a strange and eerie transition, even without moving my teaching life completely online, educating students about why they should be taking this situation seriously and how to best stay safe and help their community (wash their hands, stay home). Then there was checking in on family in Italy and New York, along with friends in Seattle to make sure they were safe and well. And missing family here that I couldn’t visit regularly, though we live so close to one another. I won’t even get into grocery shopping—once a ritual that was so soothing for me! (Luckily, I can have groceries and local produce delivered to my doorstep, thanks to our incredible farmers.) Between the understandable frenzy of the outside world and my own worries about our changing reality, I found myself, like so many others, adrift in a sea of confusion and uncertainty.

Suffice it to say that when all the dust of the transition settled, I found I needed to get grounded and return to everyday magic. Yes, magic. And it has been no easy task. I quickly realized that I could be just as loud and busy at home as I was in my regular routine. My mind raced. I was constantly plugged into my online classes—when I wasn’t glued to my newsfeed. Clearly, I needed to shift my attention from the craziness out in the world toward nature and the quiet mysticism that has always guided me through difficult times.

Return to Slow Living

My first step back to everyday magic was to let go of things I couldn’t control (the outside world) and be proactive about the things I could (teaching, social distancing, helping my community, my own well-being). Then I took a deep breath and turned off the news. Stepped away from my phone. Didn’t even turn on the TV. Instead, I put on an old Bill Evans record, cooked a simple dinner, and read a book by cozy lamplight while cuddling my familiar, Smoke.

For the first time in ten days, I slept long and deep, and, perhaps more importantly, I dreamed deeply. Those dreams were like a soothing balm on my ragged and tired soul. I’d reconnected to my magic again. This experience taught me that what I needed to do during this time of social distancing (or New Mexico’s new stay at home orders) was to focus on my connection to self, to nature, to the mystic world.

Of course, later I realized that what helped me relax and reconnect with my inner life was slow living. I turned off electronics. I let go of my need to stay busy. I simply enjoyed a quiet night at home and pressed paused on my racing mind. Slow living wasn’t just a soothing luxury then, it was absolutely essential to my overall well-being and mind, body, spirit connection. It is only with that connection that I could remain a grounding, hopeful force. Only then could my magic flow and be a bright and steady light to counter the darkness.

Return to Radical Self-Care

Slowing down also showed me how I’d been neglecting my self-care needs. It’s hard to feel like you can take care of yourself when you’re so fixated on making sure everyone else is okay or worrying about anything and everything. But that’s no way to live, especially in times of crisis. I began to understand that keeping myself healthy was an important part of helping others. It meant my immune system was in top form, which meant I was less likely to get sick and risk passing stuff on to others. It meant I was better at helping my students with the move online and that I was learning how to be more sensitive to myself and my needs.

I started off slowly. I paid attention to my energy levels. If I was tired, I didn’t push past that limit. I stopped expecting myself to keep a normal, action-packed routine. Instead, I settled into a quieter, slower pace. I prioritized yoga, house cleaning, patio gardening, and, when I felt it, walking. Evenings were for enjoying make a healthy dinner and decompressing. Then I made sure to get a full night’s sleep.

I also made a point of searching for good news in the midst of all the bad: communities coming together to support one another. Officials, like the New Mexico governor taking the safety and welfare of her people seriously with decisive action to curb the spread of the virus. The earth healing now that we collectively have had to curb our mindless consumerist habits and fast-paced lifestyle that contributes to climate change. Better still, we see that we can work together to protect mother earth, just like we are working together to deal with our current situation. The land is healing itself and we are healing our relationship to the land.

Reconnecting to radical self-care, then, reminded me that we have so much power and agency when it comes to dealing with this global crisis. Working together (albeit separately in our own homes) we do our part to conjure a solution to our current situation.

Journey Into Self

My energy opened up when I found my way back to slow living and radical self-care. I was calmer, more grounded. I begin to think of this time as an opportunity to turn inward and tend my internal life, something few of us often have a chance to do in the hustle and bustle of daily life. Now, it is as if life is forcing us to take that time—more time with our families, more time with ourselves, more time focusing on what really matters. Even now, I find myself thinking about things that even a month ago I was worrying over that now seem so small and insignificant. I’ve had to come to terms with the energy I’ve wasted on nonsense things!

Now, my focus is on a healthy and safe family, gratitude for my communities working together to help one another through this time, and the slow and steady conjuring of everyday magic. So if you find yourself struggling during this difficult time, as so many of us are for so many reasons, take heart and find your way back to the grounding power of the everyday mysticism with these simple tips:

Be gentle with yourself and others. So your first attempt at slow living didn’t go so well or you’re struggling to practice radical self-care. That’s okay. It’s a journey with many ups and downs. Go easy on yourself. You’re doing your best. And be gentle to those around you, too. We’re all in this together.

Feel what you need to feel…then let it go. Everyday magic isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s about creating space to safely feel what you need to feel, process what you need to process, and then allow yourself to move on. Don’t hold onto every hard emotion or passing anxiety. Take a deep breath. Let it go. Remember that you are allowed to feel joy at this time and seek refuge in your sacred simple pleasures.

Give yourself permission to be unproductive. I find myself writing a lot during this time but that’s because writing is a huge part of my self-care practice, helping me to stay grounded. I find refuge in cooking and cleaning to experience the catharsis of a good cleansing spell. Hope in gardening and crafting. But that doesn’t mean I’m working all the time! And if these things don’t soothe you, don’t do them. It’s easy to bring our addiction to busy home with us and use to avoid feeling what we need to feel. Don’t do that. Just create space to breathe. This is doubly true for those of you working from home and taking care of children. You’re doing so much already! It doesn’t all have to be perfect or insanely productive. What matters is that you and your family are home and safe. Enjoy your time together.

Remember that social distancing doesn’t mean social isolation. We are social creatures. Don’t deny yourself the comfort of connecting with others. As hermetic as my life seems now (okay, always!) I’ve found that in reality, I have so many relationships I’m grateful for. My family, first and foremost, but also my teaching community and students, who have all done an incredible job to help one another get through the term online. My writing and reading groups have been a huge part of my self-care practice as we discuss the magic of stories and check in on one another regularly. Then there’s my witchy community that is working to conjure a little more joy and calm in the world (more on that soon). In short, for a seemingly anti-social introvert, I’ve found that I’ve got an awful lot of love in my life. I appreciate being able to stay connected with these people thanks to the wonderful world of the internet. Take advantage of modern technology to connect with your tribe.

Be informed—but step away! I check the news once in the morning and then that’s it. Any more than that and I go down a rabbit hole of negative news and anxiety that’s not helping anyone or anything. I want to stay informed but then I focus on what needs immediate tending: my family, my home, my teaching, my writing. I’m also fond of taking social media breaks and screen-free time. Staying connected is good, but not so much that you begin to mindlessly scroll. Give yourself permission to stop following posts that are feeding into hysteria and follow only those with credible news, helpful information, and good vibes.

Treat this as an opportunity to turn inward. How often do we get the chance to work on our emotional and spiritual health? How often do we keep going when what we really need to do is reconnect with ourselves on a deeper level? This is a great time to reevaluate what really matters in our lives and let go of old patterns of living. Sink into your sanctuary. Allow yourself to unapologetically take care of yourself and your loved ones. Subtle but profound wisdom will come from small synchronicities and natural magic conjured from a quiter routine.

Reconnect with Nature. During all of this, spring has quietly swept through my city. Trees are blossoming. The morning birds sing me awake. My herb garden gets more fragrant with each passing day. Take all this in and celebrate the hope it inspires. Spring comes even after the hardest winter.

When all this is in the past, I won’t return to what Normal Life was before. I don’t think any of us will—or can. Instead, let’s make it better: slower, more thoughtful, kinder. Filled with love. And with more than a little everyday magic.

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 Bodice Ripper Cocktail: Or, a Toast to Romance Novels

Confession: I love trashy novels covers. Old pulp covers and fuschia-tinted romances. I mean the over-the-top ones with Fabio-heroes with half-open shirts and long hair more luscious than my own. The ones with heroines in the throws of passion so intense their very clothes seem to melt off them. If there’s a pirate ship in the back, a carriage (which has no doubt seen a lot of action), or some obscenely large manor in the background, then I’m done for. Dragons flying in the distance? Be still my heart!

Here’s the thing, though. It wasn’t until fairly recently that I started to voraciously read these books. Sure, I’d picked up a few slim Harlequins and thumbed through the scandal-ridden pages of mid-century pulp. I’d even read a few Nora Roberts books. But most of my romance novel reading happened within the confines of my dissertation work on The Courtship Novel.

You know the one: The Jane Austen-Personal-is-Political-Subversive-Feminist-Slice-of-Life stuff. I found my home in reading these stories by, for, and about women negotiating a patriarchal world without the financial resources to give everything the finger. I was a lowly grad student, dependent on my professors’ approval for my future success, all of which hung on earning my doctorate. I wasn’t grand enough to be a George Sand and flaunt social rule, simply because I wasn’t a rich noblewoman.

No, I was confined to the social constraints of mere working mortals. I also lacked the desire to throw caution to the wind and run away to live the life of a vagabond writer like Mary Shelley. I like my family, probably because they are a deal less gothic than Shelley’s. And I’m pretty domestic, resembling a hobbit more than a reckless heroine, one who goes on adventures here and there with the sure and comforting knowledge that there is always Bag End to return to with all its books, and flowers, and good food.

So there I was, a mestiza from the desert southwest, roughly fifteen years ago now, reading 18th- and 19th-century British courtship novels. In them, I found young women like me, both pushing against social norms and wanting to find their home in them, eager to live a life that was luscious and full in a world that seemed determined to fence me in. My complicated relationship to my own mixed-raced cultural heritage—a product of colonization and a history of violence—left me in search of stories with happy endings for women like me. I found my answers, at least in part, in these domestic tales by, for, and about women.

I wrote about Mary Wollstonecraft and the transgressive nature of the Female Intellectual, along with the interpenetrative nature of sexual and intellectual stimulation. I explored my own complicated relationship to my sexual and intellectual identity as a brown woman in the white city of Seattle, grappling with the realities that my body would always be politicized, sexualized, and scrutinized no matter what I did. That I would often be highly visible when I most wanted to be invisible. And I discovered that I could use the liminal space I occupied as an empowering sphere in which I could redefine what it means to be a successful woman of color. I wrote very smart things about all this too. And used big words and serious expressions so that others knew that what I said was smart and that I was to be taken Very Seriously.

All the while, in secret, I collected books with saucy covers and devoured trashy novels of all genres every chance I could get. I gobbled up urban fantasy, sword and sorcery, paranormal, steampunk, cozy mysteries… literally anything and everything that would let me escape the hell that is graduate school, at least temporarily.

Then something strange happened. I found I had very little interest in stories that didn’t have some sort of love plot, however tangential. I mean, as someone studying the history of western sex and gender ideologies and their choke-hold on modern life (regardless of your cultural orientation), I understood the importance of having female-centered stories that weren’t about love and that didn’t end in marriage…but I just didn’t care.

I wanted romance. The kind that made you fall in love with life and fell like you were the heroine of your own story. Stories that reminded me that I was blood and bone and feelings. Not just a brain. I was desperate to remember what it felt like to be in love with life and reveled in having a space where emotions and instincts were valued.

I could let down my guard in these stories. I didn’t have to worry about being a hysterical brown woman every time I had An Emotion. These stories taught me that my feelings (so often suppressed or contained) were telling me something important and that I needed to listen to them. They told me that my desire to love and enjoy my body was separate from the white gaze that hyper-sexualized me. They allowed me to separate my desire for romance from the social pressures to Hurry Up and Find a Mate Already. And they reminded me that I didn’t just have to sacrifice my personal life in order to be successful in my professional one, or vice versa. That was a lie mainstream culture told to keep minority bodies down. These books, in short, became my proverbial conduct manuals for the kind of life I wanted to craft for myself once I earned my doctorate.

Plus they were fun! At a time when I felt like I had to keep a firm grip on every thought, emotion, or action in order to be taken seriously, these books were an escape. I could go from being a struggling Dom at the University of Washington to a willing Sub within the covers of these books and enjoy every minute of it. (I would later learn that this was a big part of the appeal fo these books for working women in the 80s and beyond.) In short, these books with strong romantic threads and the over-the-top covers helped me tap into my inner hedonist and the playful Eros energy that so easily got clogged in the uptight world of academia.

The Art of the HEA

So I finished graduate school. I got a full-time job—actually my DREAM job at my local community college. Then I started blogging, mostly in an attempt to figure out what happiness looked like for me now that I actually had the time and space to devote to crafting a more balanced life. I had a steady income in the city I wanted to put roots down in (Albuquerque—my hometown). I had time to write just for me. I could take better care of myself, emotionally, mentally, and physically.

I was so grateful to be back in a land where it was normal to be a brown person and cultural diversity was the norm. Plus weekends with actual free time became a thing for me, as were evenings that started around 5 instead of 9 or 10. So I blogged, exploring what happiness looked like for me. The blog became an award-winning book, a lifestyle and an ongoing self-care practice that helped me tap into the magic of everyday life. To be clear: these were all things I’d fantasized about for years and now they were coming true. Without being entirely conscious of it, I was already in the midst of building my own Happily Ever After (HEA).

It wasn’t until my Year of Radical Self-Care, in which I consciously and deeply explored how to best listen to my needs day-in and day-out, that I discovered the joys of the modern romance novel. I’d been designing a course for my local university’s Honors College on romance in popular culture and felt I couldn’t possibly address that topic thoroughly without looking at the romance novel. I’d read a lot about it. I had a whole history of courtship novels to inform me. I picked up books here and there and continued to read romance-adjacent stories. But each time I tried to dive into the genre, I got completely overwhelmed by options. I was sure there was a lot of good stuff out there, along with the bad and just so-so, but I just didn’t know where to look. So designing that course became a way for me to finally and properly explore the world of the modern romance novel.

That’s when I found Smart Bitches, Trashy Books and I haven’t looked back since. It told me everything I needed to know, offering up a whole cornucopia of books in a variety of sub-genres with graded reviews. Remember all those romance-adjacent books I’d been reading? Turns out many of them were all pretty much plain old romances! Steampunk romances, paranormal romances, fantasy romances, romantic suspense, Gothic romances…I could go on but you get the idea.

Looking back, it’s no surprise that I finally drove into the world of romance novels during my year of radical self-care. They were soothing. They made me feel good. They lifted my spirits and helped me release stress. But most of all, they made me feel empowered. Reading books by women of color, especially, made me appreciate myself and my accomplishments more, as well as give me the confidence to continue developing an identity outside of my professional life.

I felt sexy, beautiful, bold and powerful—things I didn’t always feel at work when it seemed I had to curb my feminity to be taken seriously or be constantly angry to assert healthy boundaries (it should be no secret that minority women work twice as hard to prove themselves, compared to their white male counterparts). But romance novels taught me that I didn’t just have to be about the struggle. That I was allowed to have joy.

Now this blog is getting way longer than I intended and it has taken me much longer to write because, once I started, I found that I had a lot to say (a whole book’s worth it sometimes feels!). So I’ll start wrapping things up by saying this: I realized that my journey in reading and writing about courtship novels, blogging about everyday magic, and immerse myself in the romance genre, have all been because I was struggling to find narratives in which people of color and othered bodies are allowed to find happiness, joy, and pleasure. That those things were nothing to be guilty or ashamed about (trust me—when you reach a certain level of success, it is easy to start feeling like you have to apologize for it). In these books I began to discover that happiness wasn’t in limited supply and pleasure wasn’t something that could only be enjoyed in small, furtive sips.

Speaking of sips, I think it’s high time I get around to the whole reason I started writing this blog: The Bodice Ripper Cocktail. This of this as my tribute to all that is sacred and delicious in the pleasure of a good trashy novel. And, yes, not all romances are created equal. There are plenty of narratives that reinforce white ableist patriarchy or outdated sex and gender norms. But on the whole, I think the genre from the 18th century to now, is inherently social-justice based. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t trial and error as we explore healthier narratives, moments in which it feeds back into the patriarchy it is trying to subvert, or the fact that we have to grapple with the historical moments in which a book is produced.

Take the old school bodice ripper, after which this cocktail is named. There’s plenty of non-consensual stuff happening between the pages of those books. But, in a world in which women didn’t yet have sexual identities independent from the male gaze in the eyes of mainstream society and the fear of the autonomous female body was centuries old, it makes a certain sense that these issues would be explored within the “safe framework” of male control. Like the courtship novel of the 18th century that had to end in marriage, the bodice ripper fo the mid-20th century had to include aggressive male-driven sexual action in order to exist safely within the framework it was trying to subvert. It doesn’t mean that those narratives are okay, just that they represent the early stages of a genre trying (and not always succeeding at) changing the way we think about gender, sex, agency, and HEAs. Heady stuff, huh?

Still, the Bodice Ripper and all that came before and after it is worthy of celebration. If you want to begin your own journey into the realm of the romance novel, check out some of the books in photo below and indulge in some of these fantastic podcasts, in addition to Smart Bitche Trashy Books, that wonderfully frame the genre, its issues, its joys, and the wonderful range of books you can explore within it: Heaving Bosoms Podcast, Shelflove Podcast, RomBkPod, and Book Riot’s When in Romance. You can also check out my HEAs All Day book club if you want to learn even more about romance novels as social justice narratives.

The Cocktail Recipe

Okay, so I know it is a tall order to make one drink to encompass all that is romance since the genre is so wide and eclectic. We’ve got the sweet and cozy romances, reminiscent of a cup of hot cocoa, the sleek and modern martini variety, and the NSFW kind, akin to all those sugary drinks with dirty names, and anything and everything in between.

For the purposes of this cocktail, however, I decided to honor the spirit of the bodice ripper and all those trashy book covers I’ve coveted for all these years. I wanted my drink to be one part liquid courage, one part wanton abandon, with a dash of heat (or more if you are so inclined!). I needed to be bracing and a little sweet. And yeah, there should be cherries involved, if we’re sticking to the Old School variety of these novels, wink wink.

My drink is a riff on the sidecar. I swapped the brandy for Effen cherry liquor, which lends a lush vanilla cherry base. To keep the drink from being cloying, I used a citrus-peel forward orange liquor (see link below) and lemons juice. The plot twist is a few dashes of chili pepper bitters because you can’t have a bodice ripper without some heat! If you don’t have cherry vodka or just want to be like the modern romance novel and abandon the cherry-focal point, regular vodka will do.

This drink embodies the spirit of a genre that has inspired me to be fearless in my acceptance of pleasure and to open myself to the deliciousness of life. You’ll also notice that the books in the image positively OVERWHELM the drink. That’s because I was trying to make things, well, overwhelmingly bodice-ripper-y or perhaps heaving-bosom-y. In other words, for you romance novices, I wanted to show how the books overwhelmed the drink, much in the same way the emotions and sexuality overpower the people in these stories enough to rip a bodice or two…or, better put, cause a heroine to burst out of hers. If this sort of logic doesn’t make sense, drink this cocktail and read it again. All will become clear.

Oh, and if you saw Pride & Prejudice in my photo and don’t understand why I would consider it a bodice ripper than you’re reading it wrong. Again, drink this cocktail and revisit this classic courtship novel. All will become clear.

Ingredients:

2 oz Effen cherry vodka

3/4 oz freshly squeezed lemon juice

3/4 oz orange liquor, preferably one with an orange peel-forward flavor

2-10 drops smoked chili bitters depending on how HOT you want it!

ice

optional lemon peel or cherry for garnish

Combine ingredients in a shaker and shake vigorously for a minute. Pour into martini glass. Serves one, so double the recipe and invite your personal Fabio over. Pairs well with steamy reads, long walks on the beach, and insta-love.

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!

A Year of Slow Living

Last year, I committed to a year of sacred simple pleasures. I cultivated joy. I indulged in the little things that delighted me. I embraced the sacredness of pleasure. During my year of buying, using, and wasting less, I did just what it sounds like: I became ultra-mindful of my consumerist habits and focused on cultivating a greener lifestyle. If these past two years committing to both these things—consuming less and enjoying sacred simple pleasures—have taught me anything, it’s that the only way I can make meaningful changes in my life is if I slow down.

So much of my bad consumerist habits stemmed from being overworked, overscheduled, and in need of major soothing. I turned to retail therapy and stress shopping in an attempt to heal myself when what I really needed was to be more proactive about cutting stress and toxicity out of my life. The same goes for opening up to pleasure in all its forms. I had to create time and space to allow my capacity for enjoyment to strengthen and grow. I simply couldn’t explore what sacred simple pleasures were to me when I was too busy to have the energy to playfully explore my relationship to pleasure.

Both these experiences made me decide to commit to a year of slow living in order to continue cultivating a balanced life in harmony with self and nature. Slow living can mean a lot of things but, in essence, it’s about cutting out unnecessary things that clutter up your life and doing activities with purpose and pleasure. Rather than rushing around from commitment to commitment, you focus on the handful that you need or want to do. You take time for yourself and make every routine a ritual. So basically what I already do, with extra attention to examining and letting go of old habits that have me falling back into unnecessarily over-committing my time and energy to people, places, and things. I want to create space, in essence, for more everyday magic.

I have a few guidelines to help me focus on slow living (I won’t say rules because, well, that feels a little too restrictive for me!). They’re pretty simple but, as I’ve found over the past two years, pretty reliable ways of making sure I’m not moving too fast.

1. Enjoy more quiet time. It sounds funny, but towards the end of last year, I found myself fantasizing about quiet time. No music. No news. No loud conversations. Just me and my cat and the soft hum of our daily routine. The whistling kettle. The gentle clack of knitting needles making a blanket out of nothing but a strand of yarn and a few simple loops. The soft woosh of beeswax candles being lit. This intense desire for quiet made me realize how much noise I surrounded myself with each day and how important it was to unplug from it. I needed this quiet, in short, in order to hear myself.

2. Make more homemade meals. It’s no secret that I love cooking. And while I’ve lately come to enjoy the pleasures of the occasional take out meal, I find that slowing down for long enough to cook dinner during the week goes a long way to help me decompress and get grounded. I also get super excited at the grocery store thinking about what delicious, simple things I can make from the seasonal produce.

3. Carve out more unstructured time to play. In the past when I wanted to get out or doing something outside of my teaching life, I’d commit to a bunch of activities each week and pencil in all sorts of extracurriculars. It was fun at first….and then I’d inevitably get burned out on extroverted fun, usually mid-semester when my workload increased. I finally realized that part of the burnout was because I wasn’t always listening to what I felt like doing in the moment. Now, I’m learning to see what the day brings. I might have a few ideas of what I’d like to do over the week, but I don’t commit to anything unless I feel really excited about it. This has created such a relaxed, flexible way for me to explore my “playtime” without a strict structure that takes the fun out of things.

4. Prioritize reading time… I’ve seriously gotten into audiobooks over the past few years thanks to a friend (you know who you are!), and I absolutely love them. They are integral to my self-care and relaxation, especially during the heavy grading periods when my eyes hurt from too much computer time, but I need the comfort of a good book. Still, I miss the joys of an old fashioned paperback or ebook to sink into. There’s a magic to see the words on the page and slowly disappearing into a new world. Thanks to my HEAs All Day Books Club and my Occult Detective Book Club on Goodreads, I think I’ll be able to commit more time to reading. I’m shooting for 30 minutes each night before bed and am reworking my nightly routine so I can do it without falling asleep five minutes after I open my book, ha!

5. …and time in nature. It might be an urban hike, an afternoon reading in the park, or simply tending my potted herb garden, but I need time outdoors. I am a better person when I’ve had time to listen to the whispering of the trees and the idle chatter of birds. I’m even better when I’ve got dirt-stained hands and rosemary-perfumed skin. It reminds me that I am more than my accomplishments or the next thing on my to-do list.

6. Tune into my breath. It’s a funny thing, breathing. We do it unconsciously. Without thought or connection to our bodies. But I’ve found that when I stop and tune into my breathing patterns, I become more aware of the tension or feelings I might be holding onto. Sometimes in an effort to get through a packed day, for example, I find myself breathing short, shallow breathes which isn’t good for our nervous system or overall well-being. Pausing to slow our breathing—I’m talking deep belly breaths—helps soothe the sympathetic nervous system (that thing in control of our fight-or-flight responses). I also find that it has helped me stay better connected to myself and let of things that might be causing energetic stagnation or stressing my body.

What ways do plan to slow down and enjoy life?

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!

5 Things I Learned From My Year of Cultivating Sacred Simple Pleasures

Last year, I committed to a year of sacred simple pleasures. I cultivated joy. I indulged in the little things that delighted me. I embraced the sacredness of pleasure. Sounds fun, right? And it was…once I got past the hangups I unwittingly nourished over the years. You know the ones: I should be working. This is all just silly stuff. It’s a guilty pleasure. I don’t have time for this. Other people enjoy this so I should too. I couldn’t just enjoy something without these ugly thoughts cropping up. In short, as I started this journey into the sacredness of pleasure, I realized that I had a complicated relationship with pleasure.

I like to blame this on puritan culture and run-of-the-mill religion that makes us feel guilty for enjoying anything that feels good. I also had to come to terms with the fact that, as a successful woman of color, I often came up against feelings of guilt or impostor syndrome that told me I wasn’t allowed to enjoy myself. Sick, right? It’s the epitome of everyday gothic when your inner saboteur comes out because the idea of bliss is a scary thing to hold onto. You begin to hold yourself back before others can do it all in some vague attempt to keep yourself safe from whatever the world wants to throw at you, the transgressive bruja that is living proof that minorities can not just survive, but thrive. Honestly, I’m like a walking threat to puritan values and toxic patriarchy!

Once I cleared through all that muck, however, I was able to indulge in the sacredness of simple pleasures. I learned a lot about myself as I explored what was truly pleasurable to me and what wasn’t. It was like a year of relearning what it means to experience joy, from the small quiet joy of brewing a pot of tea, to the loud silly joy of playing hide and seek with my niece. I learned how to give myself permission to not work, to rest. I made room for things and experiences that had no value other than that they made me smile. And I learned that I had to completely upend the notion of pleasure before I could experience its sacredness. This revelation can be boiled down to five truths I learned from my year of cultivating sacred simple pleasures.

1. What I thought would be pleasurable often wasn’t. Okay, calling on the sympathy of all introverts here, I’m embarrassed to admit that when I first started the year, my idea of pleasures conjured up more extroverted activities. Going out with friends, dancing all night, filling up my weekends with out-there stuff. And while some of that was fun (I enjoy a night on the dance floor as much as the next woman), I found that much of it felt like I was performing.

   I could never quite recharge and found myself starting the work week with an empty battery and no energy to enjoy my cozy daily routines. I realized when I stepped back to look at things, that I was relying on what the extroverted world said I should be enjoying, versus what I was actually enjoying. Mainstream culture’s notion of pleasure is not my notion of pleasure….aside from the occasional turn about the dance floor.

2. Quiet is delicious. So there I was a few months into the year, having to completely reframe my approach to pleasure. It wasn’t a loud, splashy thing. It wasn’t about being surrounded by people or chasing experiences. It was about listening to myself and my needs. And yeah, sometimes that meant being surrounded by people and chasing a new experience. But more often than not it was about giving myself permission to be quiet.

   In the quiet, I found that I was able to unplug from this fast-paced world and tune into myself. I experienced surprising revelations that I wouldn’t have otherwise discovered if I’d continued on my path of loud, fast, busy. I reconnected with old parts of myself that I’d thought long gone. They’d only been in deep hibernation. My creativity and intuition blossomed under the soothing blam of quiet. I connected more deeply to life’s natural rhythms and, as a result, found greater peace in my daily goings-on.

3. Slowing down is an essential part of enjoying life. With quiet comes a slower pace. It takes time to settle in and indulge in something. Simple pleasures can’t be rushed. I’d begun to see that having a full to-do list or social calendar kept me from actually enjoying myself. It often left me disconnected from self and soul. In fact, I found that busy, busy is a great way to avoid yourself and the things you need to work through.

   I pretty quickly had to come to grips with the fact that, despite my best efforts, I can still be prone to overworking. But when I made a conscious effort to do less, I was rewarded with the time and space to clear out fo stagnant energy, outmoded ways of being, and the yuck I’d internalized from a world that isn’t comfortable with magical women of color. I replaced them with things that made me feel beautiful, stories that made me hopeful, and experiences that proved just how powerful pleasure can be.

4. Pleasure stirs up all sorts of unexpected emotions. Here’s the thing about enjoyment. When you create space for it in your life, you also make room for other emotions that bubble up as you begin to relax and open yourself to the softer, gentler things in life. Sadness, when you begin to realize that you’ve unconsciously denied yourself certain pleasures. Shock, when you realize how armored you’ve kept yourself—healthy boundaries are VERY important, but it’s equally important to remember to stay open to the good stuff. Guilt when you’re enjoying yourself a little too much…but there’s no such thing as too much, so then you feel anger at how you’ve let those pesky puritanical norms snake their way into your brain and make you doubt your own joy.

   See what I mean? I’ve got a complicated relationship to pleasure, or rather, the way society tries to manage and contain it and, sometimes, to crush it. This year taught me that I’ve had to consciously nourish and protect my sacred simple pleasures. The world is afraid of joy and, if I’m out of tune with myself, I can become afraid of it too. It’s the divine feminine incarnate and, like all powerful energies, can be at once healing, joyful, and terrifying.

5. Homey domestic comforts are the ultimate sacred simple pleasures. Seriously. Coming home to cat-cuddles. The smell of beeswax candles perfuming my home with their honeyed scent. The whistle of the tea kettle. These things bring me so much comfort and joy. I even found myself rediscovering old pleasures, like sewing and knitting, during this time. All of these homey tasks helped me to unplug from a long work-week, ground my energies, and fill my life with beauty.

   I began to more consciously craft the kind of life I wanted for myself. Full of luscious herbs in my garden and a pot full of stew in the kitchen. More books than I can ever read in my library and a bed piled high with knitted blankets large enough for two to cuddle under. I got rid of things that didn’t bring me joy in order to create space for my pleasure in my life and home. This simple domesticity brought me back to my core belief that true magic is in the everyday.

The thing about pleasure is that it’s pretty darn contagious. In fact, you could say that pleasure begets pleasure. It’s pretty wanton that way. If there’s one final takeaway I got from my year of cultivating sacred simple pleasures, it’s that the more you open yourself up to enjoying the little things in life, the more pleasure you start finding in the bigger things too. It is an act of everyday conjuring to invite this heady, hedonistic energy into all aspects of your life. My year of meditating on these simple pleasures might be over, but the cultivation of them is ongoing. After all, life is more delicious when you welcome in the divine feminine power of pleasure.

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!

Homemade Beeswrap

During my year of buying, using, and wasting less, I focused on reducing my plastic use. I got rid of one-use items and found other methods of storing things, rather than relying on plastics. It wasn’t as hard as I had thought, mostly because I’d stopped using things like plastic wrap several years prior and already reused things like yogurt cartons and other plastic containers (hey, use what you’ve got—it’s better than throwing it out!).

I’d even invested in a few beeswraps over the years, too, although they were pretty expensive to invest in—typically around $20 for three or so beeswax-sealed cloths. So what’s a bruja to do when she’s wanting to find eco-friendly wrappers but not spend a small fortune? You guessed it: Make her own. I went down a Pinterest rabbit hole and found so many easy-to-follow recipes and discovered that not only is making your own beeswrap super easy, it is very affordable. I still have plenty of the ingredients and cotton fabric for when I want to make more—and that ways after making the green living equivalent of a deluxe Tupperware set for two families!

I spent the most money on fancy fabric because I couldn’t help myself! Who can resist avocado or cherry print cotton when you know you’re turning them into useful—and cute—kitchen tools? Plus, I’m a sucker for bright colorful prints in general, from dress patterns to beeswrap, it would seem. Still, you wouldn’t have to do the same. Any old cotton fabric will do as long as it is washed and ironed before you begin their beeswrapping transformation. That’s where the fun begins.

I can’t tell you how much fun I hade making these things. Part of the joy of sustainability is sharing with your family. Last holiday season, I made my family members large sets of beeswrap since I know they, too, are working on better green living practices, but don’t necessarily have the time to whip up a batch of homemade beeswrap. They're better for the environment—and the pocketbook, when making them yourself—and they become a gift that is truly a labor of love.

I have many a fond memory of wintery afternoons spend preparing these reusable wraps by twinkle lights and festive holiday decorations. My home was redolent with the smell of honey and pine for days after. I poured all the softness of honeyed thoughts in the making of them, along with the resiliency of pine resin, both things everyone needs for a new year. I sealed them with my love and the soft healing nourishment of time spent in the kitchen. If that doesn’t welcome in the holiday spirit, I don’t know what does!

Rather than walk you through each and every step I did to make these, I’m leaving you in the good hands of Mommypotomous. I used this recipe because I preferred how she sprinkled the ingredients directly on the cotton, which to me felt easier than melting them separately and painting them on, as Attainable Sustainable did. I also read about the pros and cons of using different ingredients, including vegan options, from Rose Mountain Herbs. They offer quite a few pro tips, too, for getting the exact kind of wrap you want.

My supplies: cotton fabric in fun colors, beeswax pastilles (they are easier to use here, providing even coverage), pine resin for stickiness, and jojoba oil to combine the ingredients and serve as an anti-bacterial agent.

Washed and ironed cotton cut to size on baking sheets lined with parchment paper. These cotton pieces, with beeswax, pine resin, and jojoba oil, are ready for the oven.

These cotton squares are fresh out of the oven and have been brushed to even out the melted ingredients over their surface. Be warned: once they go in the oven, they melt fast and, when you take them out, they harden quickly, so you have to act fast. But don’t worry, you can always pop them back in the oven if you need to reheat them to spread the beeswax mixture around more.

One other little tip: remove the cloth from the baking sheets while they are still warm. If you let them cool on the baking sheets, the excess beeswax mixture will stick to the back of the fabric.

The final product! These are great for storing dried goods like doggie treats or snacks on the go, to larger items. The great thing about making your own beeswax wrappers is that you get to choose the size and quantity. I made a variety for me and mine, from small ones, pictured above, to larger ones to wrap up leftovers to everything in between, pictured below. Plus, over time, when your beeswax coat beings to wear off, you simply pop them back in the oven with a little extra beeswax, resin, and oil and let it reseal itself.

In the end, me and mine have a gorgeous collection of reusable wraps. Every time I use them, I think of those cozy festive afternoons and warming smell of pine and honey.

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!

Reading Holiday Ghost Stories...with a Christmas Spirit Chaser

Okay, okay, so November is usually the month I celebrate the sacred simple pleasure of reading and all-around cozy living with food and drink pairings to accompany of few hours spent with books….but then the month got away from me, so this year’s musings are a teensy bit later than usual. But that’s what happens when you’re enjoying life and readings so many wonderful books!

I might be a month late on this post, but the contents are in perfect accord with the spirit of the season! This year, I’m writing about ghost stories and scary tales that help us face our fears and confront the dark side of humanity. Why? We can’t have light without facing the darkness. That’s the price of magic.

The Tradition of Reading Ghost Stories at Christmas

Last year, I read about the old tradition of tellings ghost stories on Christmas Eve and, in fact, all Christmas season. I love the idea, especially since my heart always longs for the chills and thrills that only seem acceptable to celebrate during Halloween season, which, in all honesty, I try to stretch out as long as possible. You’ve heard of Christmas in July? Well, for me, Gothic season is September through November. Now, thanks to learning about this old storytelling tradition, I can celebrate all things spooky through December too.

To me, the nights of Autumn Equinox that then ripen into the Winter Solstice are prime times to sink into the magic and catharsis of the darker side of life. Seriously, is there anything cozier than immersing yourself in a spooky story on a cold, dark night with only the firelight to keep you warm and hold the darkness at bay? Be still my pagan heart! And yeah, full disclosure, I also spend a good part of spring and summer reading spooky stories because that’s just who I am. Give me a good summer monsoon with thunder and lightning to read Gothic romances by and I am a happy woman. All the same, there’s still something deliciously cozy about reading supernatural tales in the heart of winter.

Ghost Stories to Read by Firelight—& Twinkle Lights

When the semester is done and my home is bursting with twinkle lights and a festive tree that can only be described as “Christmas explosion,” I enjoy taking an afternoon to read by twinkle lights or firelight—or both! I put on a pot of tea, snuggle under one of my knit blankets on the couch, and sink into the healing power of stories.

Prior to learning about the Christmas tradition of reading ghost stories, I’d come to save my subscription of Occult Detective Quarterly for a quiet winter’s day when I could enjoy the variety of chills and thrills it always offers. There’s nothing like a good ghost story—unless you throw in a good paranormal investigator to guide you through the realm of the unknown. In the same vein, I cannot wait to dive into Ghostly Clients and Demonic Culprits: The Roots of Occult Detective Fiction.

If you’re wanting a more traditional read such as Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, try The Valancourt Book of Victorian Christmas Ghost Stories or, if you aren’t particular about Christmas- supernatural tales, Ghostly Tales: Spine-Chilling Stories of the Victorian Age. They are both fantastic collections of some of the most iconic ghost stories and Gothic writers. There are too many ghost story anthologies that I love to name them all, so check out my teaser photo below of the Christmas Spirit for a few more book recommendations.

As much as I love reading, sometimes, after a long term of grading papers, my eyes hurt and I literally can’t take in the written word. That’s why I am so completely grateful for audiobooks and podcasts. My current spooky favorite is On a Dark, Cold Night, a podcast that features the original work, both in writing and music, of Kristen Zaza. It’s eerily beautiful! Want something a little over-the-top? Try Relic Radio’s The Horror, a podcast dedicated to old-time radio performances of classic scary stories. Both are perfect for a quiet night at home or a laid back holiday crafting day.

The Christmas Spirit…Cocktail

So you’ve got your stash of scary stories. You’ve got your twinkle lights and a crackling fire. You have a knit blanket and a cozy spot to tuck into. You might even have the perfect pair of pajamas to dawn and a black cat familiar to snuggle close for when your story gets a little too scary…okay, maybe that last part is about me. I do love a good ghost story, but I am also easily scared. What can I say? I’m a conundrum. A conundrum with a black cat to hold my hand through the darker parts of a story, luckily. In fact, the only thing that would make this scene anymore perfect would be a holiday drink to console, comfort, and fortify as you turn the next page. So what’s a bruja to do?

Last year, I wrote about one of my absolute favorite genres, all things Occult Detective, and whipped up a cocktail for it. Let’s face it, monster hunters are less tea and sympathy and cakes and more fire and brimstone with a whiskey back. This season of ghosts stories seems equally in need of a fortifying drink. I knew it needed to be something that conjured the warmth of the fireside with the enjoyable chills and thrills of a well-told Gothic tale. The plan was to call it The Ghost Story, but it didn’t quite evoke the comfort and warmth of telling supernatural stories during the holidays, something altogether more comforting and soothing, I’m finding, than the reading them during Halloween season. No, what we needed was a little festive flare.

Enter The Christmas Spirit. Yeah, I went there! And let me tell you, this drink tops anything Hallmark can do. It’s all the pagan festivity without the saccharine overdose of CHRISTmas. It’s warming, spicy, with a little kick at the end that makes us appreciate the twists and turns of a well-told tale. I used an orange liquor (see below) that was orange-peel forward, so as to get the pop of bright holiday flavor, minus overly-sweet taste of more traditional orange flavoring. I added some cherry bitters to round out the sense of a cozy winter’s evening at home, and conjure the pleasure of rich Christmas ‘s fruity flavors. Then the dash of smoked chili bitters to evoke the sharp catharsis of a dark story’s end. Add ice and you’ve got the makings of a perfect ghost-story chaser. All you need is bourbon to round things out. It’s enough to warm your heart, comfort your soul, and brace you for the inevitable spine-tingling goodness that is a good ghost story.

If a glass of courage isn’t your cup of tea, then consider trying…well…a cup of tea. Try the smokey lapsang souchong (my perennial favorite) for an afternoon of reading or a cup of mint chocolate rooibos for a mellow evening’s storytelling—both of which can be found at NM Tea Co. And if you need a little something more to get you through that next page, read on for how to make The Christmas Spirit.

Ingredients:

2 oz. bourbon

.75 oz orange liquor, preferably one with an orange peel-forward flavor

5 drops cherry bitters

1-2 drops smoked chili bitters

ice

maraschino cherry and orange peel for garnish (optional)

Directions:

Combine all liquid ingredients in a tumbler glass and stir. Add ice and stir again. Garish with cherry and orange peel. Makes one, so whip up a few more: one for someone to cuddle with as you read your stories and another for any friendly spectral visitors who happen by (the unfriendly ones can just move along). Enjoy!

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!

Protection Spell

Tools:

Rusty nails for every wisp of old ghosts you have

1 hammer blessed by your sweat and elbow grease

1 beeswax candle

1 box of matches

1 brush strong enough to sink its teeth into your hair and come out with a mouthful

Ingredients:

Wisps from old ghosts knocking on your door, as many as you have

3 sprigs of rosemary gathered under a full moon, for She protects all worthy things

3 sprigs of rue gathered in full sun—the better to chase away the darkness

Whiskey, amount varies, depending on how much courage you need

Stitches holding your heart together

Basement shadows, as many as you have the courage to face

1 mouthful of hair, collected from your brush

1 handful of grit (please tell me you have some, otherwise this will never work)

1 bottle of sunshine

Directions:

Step One: Tie wisps from old ghosts to rusty nails then plant them in the earth around your home. Be sure to make the knots strong, as ghosts are slippery, always looking for a way back in. Use your blessed hammer to make sure those specters are firmly rooted in the earth. Again, they’re wiggly little things, sly things, so don’t take any chances.  Hammer the shit out of them. If anyone asks, say you’re mending a fence. Who cares if they can’t see the magic foundation you build upon?

Step Two: Use your teeth to mash up rosemary and rue until they form a thick paste.  Alternately spit paste and handful of grit along the perimeter of your rusty-nail fence until your hands hurt from the emptiness, and your mouth is dry and full of the tastes of green things.

Step Three: Drink some whiskey. Repeat as necessary until the taste of mashed up herbs has left your mouth, and you are no longer afraid to go into your basement. 

Note the First: This could be a literal basement or a metaphorical one where you lock away all the secrets and dark crawly things you can’t deal with day-in, day-out. In either case, the liquid courage at the bottom of your glass and the shadows you find down there are real. Best to know that going in. 

Step Four: Before you go into the basement, you will need something to tether the shadows you find there. Something sweet enough to trap them and strong enough to bind them—the stitches from your mending heart. After washing your hands, carefully reach inside your ribcage and worry the fat, ugly scar tissue around the suture that kept you from bleeding out once upon a time until the thread breaks free. Keep pulling until you have enough bloody string to tie to as many shadows as you can gather across the energetic fence around your home. 

Note the Second:  This part is going to hurt—another reason the whiskey will come in handy. 

Note the Third:  This might take a while. If you pass out from the pain, simply resume your scar picking when you come to.

Note the Fourth:  It is likely that you will begin bleeding again. Don’t worry. It’s a sign you are still alive. If you do start bleeding, light one of the matches and press it to your heart to cauterize the reopened wound. Repeat as necessary. And don’t even think about not surviving. Your passionate heart can stand the heat. Your scars are proof enough of that.

Step Five: When you’ve gathered all the blood-soaked sutures you need, and the pain is no longer debilitating, light your beeswax candle with one of the matches from your matchbox. 

Step Six: Go into the basement.  Bring the handful of grit with you. You’ll need it. Whiskey can only take a woman so far.

Step Seven: Let the shadows come to you. The string soaked in your heartbreak knows what to do. Just be brave enough to keep the candlelight burning. 

Step Eight: When you’ve gathered all the shadows you need, take them to your new fence. Weave your shade-laced string in and around your rusty nails until you have no more string left, and your heart stops throbbing at the memory of having the stitches pulled from it. 

Step Nine: Run a brush through your hair 101 times or however long it takes to get rid of all the tangles. Take those tangles—they should be stuck in the mouth of your brush—and weave them in and around your suture-bound shadows.  

Step Ten: Remember the beeswax candle?  It should still be burning. Take the pool of melting wax and use it to seal your protective ward. Alternately pour drops from your bottle of sunlight and hot wax on top of each nailhead until you hear the little ghosts wince at the pain. Dribble it across the hair and threaded tapestry made of your past— that’s where all basement shadows come from, isn’t it? 

Final Note:  Don’t feel bad about making your ghosts hurt. Their pain is a good thing. They’ve given you enough of it, after all, so turn about is fair play. 

Step Eleven: Take the remaining matches from your matchbox and plant them, red heads up, into the cooling wax until the permitter is covered, and you have no more matches—save one, to light the whole thing on fire. 

Final (Optional) Step: But who are you kidding? You’ll need this one too. Take one last drink of whiskey so you feel fire within as you watch it blaze without. Let it burn.  

Let the remaining circle of ash around your home be a warning to ghosts and future shadow makers—

You’ll just tie them up and set them on fire too.

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 Ghosts We Carry...& How to Banish Them

Have you ever noticed how in haunted house stories or an occult detective tale, there’s always an object that keeps a spirit anchored to a place? It could be a keepsake from when the ghost was a living being or a terrible artifact use to summon darker entities. Sometimes it’s a whole room or house, the energy of the people who have lived in it soaking into the very walls. Other times it’s the memory of a horrific incident that has bled into the earth.

In order to banish the ghost, of course, we have to destroy the object—set it on fire, break it, or, to be less dramatic, let it go or move on from it. Move out of the haunted house. Contain the dark occult artifact that can’t be destroyed so that no one will find it (until the inevitable sequel, of course….this is dramatic fiction after all!). These stories remind us, in one way or another, that the things we carry with us absorb the energy of our experiences. And that, sometimes, the only way we can move forward is to let those objects go. Otherwise, we keep that old energy—sometimes toxic energy—around and get stuck, finding ourselves in a time loop of the same draining experiences that first tainted the objects in question.

The Ghosts We Carry

Take, for instance, the story of The Sad Birthday Dress. It goes like this: There once was a woman who wanted to feel beautiful. All day long she was asked to be nothing but a talking head. But this woman knew she had a heart and hips and a juicy center. So she bought herself a dress to remind herself that she could be a whole person and not just a shriveled head sitting in someone’s cabinet of curiosities. And what a dress it was! It was stunning, with finely spun organic lilac cotton and loud bouncy yellow and white polka dots that told her that she was allowed to have color in her life—that she was allowed to be of color, no need to pass as another kind of pale specter. The skirt was flouncy and feminine and begged to be flipped up for illicit romance or at least a lively dance.

It was the perfect birthday dress. So she did what any woman who wanted to feel alive did—she wore it out and ate cake and drank champagne and danced until the weight of the pale city bore down on her and her loud pretty dress didn’t make her feel pretty anymore. Just sad. Unspeakably so. Because, she realized, this dress didn’t make her feel pretty. It only reminded her that she lived in a place that didn’t want her to be a flesh and blood woman. A city that was uncomfortable with her long wild hair and her rounded hips and the way the bodice of her dress clung to her breasts. She knew shame in that dress. And a sadness that welled up inside her until it became heartbreak. That heartbreak spread from her body and into the dress as surely as the bubbly drink had spread through her body only moments before.

The woman learned a hard lesson that night: A dress couldn’t fix a city that treated her like a brown stain on a white shirt. And cake couldn’t disguise the fact that there was no sweetness for her there. Only loneliness and a bone-deep cold. The solution was to leave in search of warmer hands and beating hearts.

Eventually, the dress came off. But the heartbreak stayed. And every time the woman tried to wear her I Am Beautiful Dress, she inevitably took it off and rehung in her closet, until one day she stopped trying to wear it all together. It moved to the back of her closet, limp and half-forgotten, like a mediocre date or half-baked wish. It was no longer her I Am Beautiful Dress. It was stained with the experience of that night, which is how it became The Sad Birthday Dress.

Years later, when the woman had figured how to be a breathing, living woman and not someone else’s curiosity, she pulled the dress from her closet and her heart broke all over again. She knew there was no reclaiming the original power of the beautiful bouncy fabric. Of cake and champagne and moonlight. In the dress, she saw the pain of her past welling up inside of her. Its presence was like a ghost reminding her of all the broken things she could never fix. Of the hopeless realization that the thing she wanted—thought she wanted—wasn’t for her and, in fact, had never existed at all. She had been chasing phantoms and, in the process, almost become one herself.

So she packed it up and gave it away in the hopes that it might become what it was meant to be—that I Am Beautiful Dress—for someone else who was ready to pay the price to reclaim that joy in the way she hadn’t been when she had first purchased it. The weight of that terrible time lifted from her shoulders and the energy in her home felt lighter.

Now the woman has a closet full of I Am Beautiful Dresses. They are loud. And they sparkle. And they have hems ready to be tossed above the knee for dancing and more dancing and things that would make you blush for me to write. And they all radiate joy. All because she let go of the thing that was holding her back. All because she chose to feel the pain of the past and let it go. All because she chose to be a loud woman with a beating heart in a sun-kissed land and not a phantom shade.

Banishing Ghosts

Lovely little story, isn’t it? And it’s all true. I once had an I Am Beautiful Dress that became The Sad Birthday Dress. And when I gave it away, I was giving myself permission to be more than that sad story. I could learn from my past and create space for joy in my present. The truth is, we all have a proverbial Sad Birthday Dress or something that was once a profound piece of armor in our lives that became stained by experience. Other times, we change—becoming someone that certain objects no longer feel attached to, can no longer nourish. And in order to keep growing, transforming, evolving, we must let them go. If we don’t, what once was beautiful or nourishing becomes toxic. The spirit that won’t move on becomes the ghost that terrorizes the living.

Having recently completed a massive house cleansing—saying goodbye to old ghosts and old selves—I found myself thinking about one of my pieces from Everyday Enchantments, “Letting Go of Past Lives, “ about the things you hold on to even when you are ready to let go of the person you used to be. It can be scary to let go of the past because, as stagnant as it can make us, it’s also familiar and comforting. That’s why we hold on to so much unnecessary stuff. It keeps us feeling safe—but it also keeps us stuck. In the end, it’s better to let go and know that you are creating space for new, positive vibes to enter your life (but not necessarily more stuff!).

The first part of banishing ghosts or old selves? Let go of the objects they are attached to. Say goodbye to things that don’t bring you joy or that you haven’t used in over a year. Be conscious of the energy you want in your home and life. Then be ruthless about protecting it—get rid of anything that doesn’t contribute to your overall sense of well-being. Ghosts hide behind sentiment and guilt to keep you trapped under their spell. Low-level spirits are a lot like low-level people: They want you to feel as trapped and miserable as they are, so they’ll do anything to stay in your life. Best to see them for what they are and move on.

The second part of ghostbusting? Let go of the troubling energy you’ve been holding onto psychically. That last one will take a little more time, but letting go of the object that keeps constellating that energy will go a long way to dispersing its psychic impact. Give yourself permission to heal and move on from sad or seemingly unfinished histories.

The rest will follow.

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!

Old School Pumpkin Oatmeal Cookies

Fall is finally settling over Albuquerque.  It’s still fairly hot during the day—a whopping 80 degrees—but the mornings are chilly and the sun is setting earlier and earlier, ushering in long cozy evenings making stew, taking in nourishing stories by book or TV, and enjoying a fat mug of apple spice tea.  And while it’s still not completely time to pull out those sweater and fuzzy socks, I find myself craving a batch of these hearty pumpkin cookies.  

I have fond memories of making these cookies every fall growing up.  Inevitably when the leaves started turning, we’d come home from school and eagerly pull out the older than sin Libby’s pumpkin cookies recipe.  Yeah, the 80s add it came form was kind of creepy looking, but it made heallthy-ish, delicious cookies!

I find myself going back to this recipe each season as routine—or ritual—that helps me take in the joy of the changing seasons and welcome in fall.  I got to talking to my mom about this as I began my search for that original recipe she shared so long ago. I went down a Pinterest rabbit hole to no avail, but my mom, the original witchy woman role model, found the original Libby’s recipe online.  We were back in business!  

Alas, neither of us eat that much sugar anymore and the original Libby’s recipe calls for A LOT.  So I adapted my recipe from that old school Libby’s recipe, but cut out a lot of the sugar and butter, with the help of this recipe from Sally’s Baking Addiction (thanks again, mom!).   Like my She Works Hard for the Money Power Muffins or my Energizer Bunny Bars, these cookies are great snacks to hold you over when the day is fuller than usual.  They are also perfectly delicious for a perfectly un-busy day, paired with a good book and a cup of my earthy Autumn Harvest Tea.   Better still, I look forward to sharing this recipe with my little niece and passing on the tradition of making pumpkin cookies every fall.

Ingredients:

3/4 cup pumpkin puree

1 egg

1 tsp vanilla extract

3/4 cup whole wheat flour

1 1/2 cups oats

1/2 cup pepitas

1 tsp grated fresh ginger

1/3 cup brown sugar

1/4 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1/4 tsp powdered ginger

1/4 tsp cardamom

pinch of salt

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven 350.

2. Mix all wet ingredients until blended.

3. Add in spices and baking soda, powder, and pinch of salt.

4. Then add in sugar and, once combined, flour.

5. From there, add in oats and pepitas. The dough should be thick and a little sticky.

6. Drop a large spoonful of dough onto an unlined baking sheet and press into circular cookies.

7. Bake for 12ish minutes.

8. Enjoy! Makes roughly a dozen cookies. I like to store them in the freezer and pull one out for a quick treat.

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 for regular doses of enchantment. Want even more inspiration? Follow me on Instagram, Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter. Here’s to a magical life!

Cultivating Routines as Rituals

I write a lot about the power of routine as ritual, or taking our day-in, day-out practices and turning them into meaningful, intentional activities that enhance the overall quality of our lives. But what does that really mean? And how to we turn these rote activities into sacred practices? First, we have to understand the difference between routine and ritual.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, routine is defined as “a sequence of actions regularly followed.”  Pretty straight forward.  It’s the stuff we do regularly without fail, whether they are good for us (waking up early to exercise before work) or bad (always hitting the vending machine at three in the afternoon).  Some are more mundane: pay the rent at the first of the month, take your six-month visit to the dentist, get an oil and lube for your car. 

We are so used to these things as basic parts of adult life that we never really think too hard about them, unless something is out of joint (not sure how you will pay your rent, a sketchy dentists, weird nosies coming from your car’s engine).  Hell, our routines are so ingrained, we often zone out while caring from them.  Have you ever driven home from work via the same rout you take every day and have no memory of the drive?  That’s you on autopilot.  Your routine is so second-nature you disconnect from the actual activity you’re doing.

The second definition  of routine is equally telling.  It defines it as “a set sequence in a performance such as a dance or comedy act.”  So routine is not just a basic repetitive schedule, but something we perform, consciously or unconsciously.  It’s all about how important we want people to see us.  Running from one thing to the next practically shouts that we are so busy, so interesting, so important!  It also broadcasts our values.  Do you value squeezing in one more thing at work over finishing a few minutes early and leisurely heading home to enjoy some self-care?  To you pack your weekends with activities and experiences, or do you create time to dally?  Each decision shapes how we see ourselves and how others see us. 

But these definitions of routine only take is so far.  Only far enough to get us thinking about how we see ourselves and how we want others to see us, in fact.  But what about what we want to feel, experience, and enjoy?

That’s where ritual comes it. 

Ritual is about consciously, mindfully tending to our daily tasks, taking comfort in the familiarity and pleasure in how they ground and nurture us.  We welcome in the healthy and the good and actively eliminate the life-diminishing and bad.  

In order to do that, however, we have to change how we look at our day-in, day-out.  It’s not a place we need to escape from (who hasn’t fantasized about running away to a distant land when life gets complicated or dreary?).  It’s not a collection of minutes that fills our head until the real fun—a weekend, celebration, or happy event—can happen.  It’s about finding joy in the life we create for ourselves one small, deliberate act at a time.  I’m reminded of the Ten of Cups in the tarot here—the homey gratitude card that asks you to step back and appreciate all the simple magic of your life that you’ve worked hard to create. 

The first step to unplugging from rote activities—aka mindless routine—is to find enjoyment in the things we often perceive as One More Thing To Do.  Celebrate chores, rather than dread them by turning them into rituals that help you unplug from your workday and reconnect with yourself.  So I have to turn my compost—good.  Dirt in my fingernails grounds me and feeding the worms connects me to nature.  So I don't know what to cook for dinner—I 'll start with sautéing an onion and let my farm fresh ingredients speak to me.  Taking the extra time to cook a healthy meal allows me to nourish my whole being and enjoy the sensuousness of sautéing vegetables.  It allows me to slow down and reconnect to the deliciousness that is life.  Throw in a jazz record and a glass of wine, and you've got the makings of a divine evening.  

Now, doesn’t that sound lovely?

Each and every task becomes a devotional act to the energy I want to welcome into my life and an expression for gratitude for the abundance I have painstakingly cultivated.  A celebration of my hard work and a deliberate conjuring of more good energy. 

What routines will you transform into sacred rituals?

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!