Daily Cascade

Enchantments

Prompt:
"I do not understand how anyone can live without one small place of enchantment to turn to."
Write about this in your Blog entry today.

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Enchantment can be fairy tales, photos of my beloved, the image of my last cat, a memory, a couplet from a poem, the sound of the last notes of a favorite music piece, or anything that means something to me.

Once, when I was a child, I picked a small pebble worn smooth from the top of my great-grandfather's grave and kept it as my good-luck charm, and then, in times of trouble, I held it in my hand, feeling its surface, imagining that my great grandfather was comforting me.

To this time in my old age, my enchantments are subtle; yet, they are like spools of shimmering thread that weave magic through my days. I suspect, therefore, most of us, deep down inside, need a refuge where our souls can breathe after the monotony of the errands, obligations, and the machinery of our everyday lives. This may be because the human spirit can wither if it can find no water to keep it alive, the water from its secret well of comfort and wonder.

Most of the time, those wells of enchantment need not be lavish or luxurious. Simple places--such as a quiet chair inside the back porch to watch the setting sun when it drapes itself in golds and reds, a walk through the woods where the air smells of pine and silence, or the hush of a library aisle scented with old paper--may become doorways into realms where my mind changes what's ordinary into extraordinary. I know this when it happens because, in such places, time slows, the world shows its deeper, gentler mysteries, and I feel loosened with my perspective restored. In other words, my weary heart finds renewal.

Then, inside this feeling of renewal, birdcalls become prayers, raindrops turn leaves into chalices, the setting sun and the shifting shadows become a secret language meant only for me.

These enchantments are openings into a world that listens, hears, breathes, and shows what's hidden inside the noise of my days. This is when my heart loosens its grip of its burdens and weariness, and time bends into something timeless and tender.