Enchantment Learning & Living Blog

Welcome to Enchantment Learning & Living, the inspirational space where I write about the simple pleasures, radical self-care, and everyday magic that make life delicious.

The Daffodils on My Nightstand

March 10, 2014

They sit, so cheerful, on your nightstand.

You heard them the other night, when they were still closed buds in your vase, slowly crackling and giggling as they began to poke out their heads from the paper-thin coat that held them in place. One crackle. Two. Then, as if the cautious opening of the flowers was no longer enough, they burst open, all sunshine and brightness, leaving their brown husk behind.

They are the first thing to greet you in the morning--that dose of sunlight before even the sun itself is up. Big bold petals cradle their loud trumpet shaped center as if it were a fragile porcelain tea up and they, the saucer. In the center of each flower sits the furry, pollen-coated stamen perfuming your room with the sweet scent of spring.

They chase winter away, promising warmer days and flower-strewn gardens. Soon, they say, soon. Soon you will be able to pack up your winter coat and shed your winter layers. Soon you will be able to walk barefoot on the grass and picnic on fresh radishes and sprouts and berries. Soon. But until then, you have me--that bright cluster of flowers on your nightstand.

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!

On Driving Home From Work

March 3, 2014

The road is spread out before you.

Aretha Franklin is playing on the radio and the sun is shining. You've finished grading all your papers. They lay in neat stacks on your office desk, just as you left them. Each file has been put carefully back in its place and your computer has been turned off. Your mind drifts back to the evidence of your industry, but can't linger there for long.

Your thoughts move from emails and lesson plans to the possibility of a long walk or an afternoon yoga--but even there, you cannot linger. Your mind doesn't want to focus on anything except the sound of soul in your speakers and the smooth sailing of your car as it cruises down Montgomery.

You let go of your professional to-do list as Aretha Franklin makes way for Otis Redding. The mountains take up all the space in your view mirror and the rest of the day stretches out before you.

You are half tempted to keep cruising down Montgomery, just listening to music and breathing and being--far enough at least to see the river and the Bosque, and maybe, if you're lucky, the faint promise of spring in budding trees. But your body wants to move. It wants to dance and wiggle after a day of focused movements, so you turn home, lowering your music as you go, and slide your car into its space.

Somewhere between revving your engine in the school lot and parking your car at home, you've moved from teacher to simple human being. You shake off the last of your day as you lock the car and carry your teacher tote inside, mind already on the roasted vegetables for dinner.

On Grocery Lists

February 21, 2014

There it is, a little blackboard sticking to your refrigerator door, a continual work in progress.

You use up your last sweet onion, caramelizing it for a mushroom pizza. As the onions simmer in the pan, filling your kitchen with their savory aroma, you take a moment to write 'onions' on your grocery list in thin white chalk. It is then you see that you also have nutritional yeast on the board and you erase it, having bought more of the cheese-like miracle on your previous grocery trip. There is now a blank space over blue corn tortillas, those kitchen staples you have had on your list for some time, the ones you keep forgetting to pick up with each trip to the grocery store.

It is your daily work of art, the truest expression of your life: the recipes you cook to nourish self and family, the ingredients that make up your week--here a wedge of aged cheddar, there more radishes because you can never keep enough of them in your refrigerator. Spinach, your perennial favorite, never quite erased from your list because you always need it.

It occurs to you as you finish caramelizing your onions that your life is made up of a series of grocery lists, each one building on the other, like layers of paint on an artist's canvas. Your life is made up of caramelized onions and red wine, chia seeds and fresh blackberries. Your life is made up of a deep desire to nourish and be nourished.

On Home

February 12, 2014

It is your sanctuary. Your refuge from the world, from the bustle and noise. The quiet place you rest your mind and nourish your soul, peeling back the layers of the day until all that is left is you. Your tender skin exposed, breathing freely now that you've cast off your thicker skin, your armor, and hung it in your closet, where it waits, ready to be donned again the next day.

You ponder this, as you slide your key into the front door, so grateful for the coming hours of solitude. Inside, your home smells faintly of pineapple, thanks to the fruit ripening in the ceramic bowl on your kitchen counter.

You take one breath, then two, inhaling the sweet scent and taking in all your familiar things: the tea mug left just so in the kitchen sink waiting to be washed, the turquoise knitted blanket folded haphazardly on your ruby couch, the rolled yoga mat leaning against the corner of your bookshelf.

These things, your things, they are your home. They fill up your space with memories of collecting seashells on the Californian and Italian shores. Of books read and reread, first with dread sometimes and then delight as life experience seasons your understanding of what makes stories worth telling, worth reading. Then there is cooking with family, the warmth in your kitchen a by-product of the hot stove and long loving dinners.

You wrap these memories around you. You admire your things. You breathe in the homey scents of pineapple and lavender, content to once again tuck into your sanctuary for the evening.

On Introverts

February 5, 2014

You know who you are.

The quiet soul in need of home, a good book, a cup of tea to replenish yourself. The one who knows that a mellow evening listening to jazz records in the comfort of your pajamas is a legitimate Saturday night plan.

It is not enough for you to simply be out with strangers--seeing and being seen--filling up your time in an effort to be busy or important. No. That way leads only to tiredness and a dry, brittle feeling deep in your bones. If you must surround yourself with anyone, it will be your fellow introverts, the kindred spirits who understand the intricate world that unfolds in solitude. They are the ones you can linger over a pot of tea with or share in a yoga practice. The ones who relish time spent together but understand--even appreciate--when you need to curl up on your couch, just you and a novel.

Other would say you are doing nothing when you turn inward. But they do not understand the luxury of letting your mind roam unfettered, unfurling in the silence and tenderly probing one thought after another, then drifting beyond the borders of this world into others.

In these silent hours, you begin to cast off that dusty brittle feeling in your bones like an old coat, filling your body up with stories and dreams and the gentle murmur of a heart content.

On Playing with Herbs

January 25, 2014

You have your jars of herbs lined up before you like wild soldiers. Each is stuffed with gifts from the ground--fat golden flowers and thick roots and long needles--each its own medicine. Here is calendula, that happy marigold, ready to soothe irritated skin and frayed minds; there is ginger root, the fiery cleanser of the solar plexus, stoking the heat, the determination within yourself; tucked in the back is that brash kitchen herb rosemary, that fearless sharp evergreen the clears the mind and heals your tired bones.

You let the scents of each open jar mingle and cloud your nose as you take first a pinch of this herb and a scoop of that. You want something--your body is humming, calling for the soothing wisdom of these plants and they answer that call with the gentle melody of tiny buds bouncing against the sides of your mixing bowl, dried leaves whooshing into the pile of your new blend.

You inhale the rich grassy scent of alfalfa leaves, hungry for their nourishment. You search through your jars looking for alfalfa's mate, that balancing force that tempers the mouthful of mowed grass with sweet and soft. Your eyes light on fennel, that little seed made up of licorice and mint; yes, this will pair well with your other leaves.

Each addition to your bowl is the promise of a new healing elixir that will float from a steaming cup and into your soul to mend, to cleanse, to ground. And though you started with your jars and only a vague sense of needing a cup of wellness, you find that after your blend is made and steeped and drunk, that what you really needed was time in the kitchen. Time to unscrew the lids on those jars of herbs and play with nature's medicine cabinet. Time to let your mind drift, to let the taste of rosemary settle on your tongue, and to have no other aim but to blend.

Easy Peasy Baking Soda Face Scrub

January 23, 2014

First I will say that baking soda is the miracle kitchen staple, good for baking, house cleaning...and beautifying. Truth be told, I'm obsessed with baking soda because of how good it is for you--a cheap, natural, healthy product you can put in almost anything to make it better.

Which brings me to my love of a good face scrub. The skin on your face is more fragile than the rest of your body, so you need something that will scrub away the dead skin and other bad stuff without irritating it. This is something I take to heart, since my skin is super sensitive--so sensitive in fact that even gentle organic products can irritate it, making it feel like it's burning or drying it out. But I do like to give my face a little extra TLC, so after some experimentation, I've found that baking soda is a perfect primary ingredient for an easy, gentle face scrub. I then use olive oil as the wet ingredient (although you could use just water or another lighter oil) because it hydrates the skin. A drop or two of clove oil gives the scrub antibacterial qualities--but be careful not to overdo the clove oil, as it can irritate your skin. I recommend using the scrub no more than once or twice a week, so you don't strip your skin of good-for-you-oils. And of course, all ingredients are organic.

Ingredients:

1/2 cup baking soda

1/2 cup olive oil

1-2 drops clove oil (optional)

Mix all ingredients in a bowl and transfer to a mason jar to store. Makes a little over 1/2 cup. Enjoy!

On Grocery Shopping

January 10, 2014

It's the fruit and veggies section that draws you in first--piles of oranges and grapefruits vying for your attention over mounds of ripe tomatoes and lush eggplants. And then there it is--the artichoke that seduces you with its layered petals and the promise of the fleshy heart tucked in the center of its thorny armor. On impulse, you abandon the tight outline of your shopping list and commit to the artichoke. You throw in Brussels sprouts for good measure, already planning the meal centered on those crisp sprouts sautéed with nutritional yeast and pomegranate seeds.

Each item added to the cart is a promise to nourish, to indulge, to create. You imagine each meal: from the wine you sip as you steam the artichoke and cook the quinoa, to the quick-sautéed spinach leaves fragrant with the aromas of garlic, ginger, and chile peppers, to the morning oatmeal filling the belly after yoga has filled the soul.

You even let yourself be taken in by the decadence of the cheese section--surely the weekend is not a weekend without aged Gouda--even as you ignore the cheap thrills of the chips and candy aisles. There is no room in your cupboard for food devoid of soul.

At home, you unload your culinary loot, a warm sensation spreading through your belly as your fridge fills with edible jewels, vibrant tokens of self-care and wholesome indulgence.

On Returning Home After Work

January 6, 2014

It is quiet--a blissful sanctuary after a day of noise and movement.

You slip out of your heels, feet firmly on the ground again. Your toes wriggle out the kinks of the day, your ball and heel kiss the carpet. You consider checking your email or reading, but your mind rebels against sitting at a desk, taking in more words.

No.

Your body wants movement. The deep pleasure of yoga asana that allows your body to unfurl, releasing the paperwork and student questions with each spinal twist, until your limbs, like petals, are loose, soft.

The silence is broken only by the click of your jewelry as you begin the task of removing your armor. One by one each ring goes back into the jewelry box, each a piece of the day washed away from your skin; your earrings go next, taking with them the sound of the copy machine and sputtering coffee maker. The war paint is last--off goes the mascara and blush that separates you the teacher from you the you.

But you are not quite ready for the mat. You tend your plants. You chop up root vegetables and put them in the oven to roast. You light a candle. Each act, a simple ritual of letting go of the day and welcoming the evening. Slowly, you begin to feel your mind drift away from lesson plans towards nothing in particular.

It is at that moment that you finally turn to your mat. Your home is fragrant with cumin and roasting vegetables. Your body breathes a sign of relief to be out of the desk and onto the mat.

You relish the inevitable finish to this transition--after grounding mind and body, releasing the wrinkles of the day--when you crawl into your favorite cozy pajamas, your soft second skin, to just be.

Warrior Tea Blend

November 23, 2013

This is a great tea for the warriors in your life. It is made up of a variety of herbs and grains that restore vital nutrients to your body and at the same time help it get rid of toxins.

I developed this blend for my brother-in-law, a personal trainer, who constantly needs to replenish and heal his body because of his constant activity. He is on his feet all day helping clients get fit, so he needed something that would give him an energy boost--here in the form of vitamins and minerals naturally found in herbs--and something that would ease inflammation and sore muscles after a day of working out. This blend is good for anyone who works long hours or needs an extra boost during the day; it provides energy without unhealthy snacking or caffeine consumption and soothes the nervous system.

I've included the recipe for this blend below, along with the health properties of each ingredient.

Warrior Tea Blend (makes about 6 cups)

2 cups roasted barley

1 cup alfalfa leaves

1/2 cup dandelion leaves

1/2 cup cinnamon bark chips

1/2 cup calendula (marigold flowers)

1/2 cup tulsi (holy basil)

1/2 cup fennel seeds

Blend all ingredients in a bowl and transfer to an airtight container. Keep away from direct sunlight and heat. To brew, use a heaping tablespoon per cup of hot water. Enjoy!

Health benefits of ingredients:

Roasted barley: antibacterial, aids in digestion, improves blood circulation, lowers cholesterol, cleanses body of toxins, balances blood sugar levels, rich in vitamins B1, B2, iron, and fibers.

Alfalfa leaves: natural diuretic, improves digestion, rich in vitamins A, E, K, B, D, iron, magnesium, potassium, and sodium.

Dandelion leaves: natural diuretic, aids with anemia, rich in iron and vitamin C.

Cinnamon: antiseptic, aids digestion, calms nervous system, anti-inflammatory.

Calendula: anti-inflammatory, aids digestion, reduces swollen lymph glands, soothes irritated skin.

Tulsi: helps body adapt to stress by balancing out cortisol levels, antibacterial, and anti-fungal.

Fennel: aids digestion, relieves bloating.

Routine as Ritual

November 15, 2013

I'm sitting on my newly furnished patio this morning, snuggled under a cranberry throw and drinking cinnamon spice coffee from a pumpkin mug. The view from my patio is stunning. The ground is littered with bright gold and orange leaves. The almost naked trees stand in stark contrast to the cloud-blanketed sky, the stone fountain in my courtyard is framed by all of this natural glory.

This first week of living in my new home--I mean actually living versus unpacking and organizing--has been a daily study in life's simple pleasures. The early morning yoga in my living room has become a delicious treat after weeks of being off my regular self-care routine. The weekly grocery store visit is a feast for the senses, especially now that the holidays are near--the produce section is overflowing with Brussels sprouts and pomegranates and persimmons, to name a few of the seductive jewels that caught my eye this time around. Grocery shopping is especially invigorating as I contemplate what delicious meals I plan to cook in my home--from the tofu, pea and spinach stir-fry with a coconut-peanut sauce to the autumn inspired afternoon tea party with a friend, to the simple nutritional yeast spiced popcorn and pumpkin hard cider for homemade happy hour with my sister. Even cleaning and doing laundry has become a meditation on the simple joys of a warm, clean home. Moving into a new space has made me hyper-aware of the magic behind my everyday routine.

While many of these activities--grocery shopping, laundry, coaxing myself out of bed early to stretch my limbs--seem like mundane routines that, like grooves in a well-trod path, are merely evidence of rote actions, they are actually delicious rituals of self-care. I take comfort in the knowledge that when I get home at the end of a long workday, my routine is in place: I water my plants, I exercise, I prepare dinner while watching the news, I dine listening to old jazz records, I read over cups of m inty sleepy time tea. It is a healing balm to a full day of caring for others--tending to my students and nourishing their writing growth. It is the promise of soul replenishment and the mending of the proverbial tears and scrapes from the day.

So the next time you find yourself in the midst of your daily routine, take a moment to pause and relish the wonder of the rituals you've built around your sense of well-being. These rituals ground. They nourish. They heal.

5 Ways to Make a House a Home

November 10, 2013

So it's happened: I've moved in all the boxes, arranged and rearranged the pantry, contemplated organizing my bookshelves better, hung every picture, and moved around furniture until it looks just right. But with all that in place, there remains quite a bit of work to be done in making my new house a home.

Here, I offer you my top five ways to make a new space more than just a place to crash, but a vital, nourishing sanctuary:

1. Cook. A lot. For friends. For family. For yourself. Nothing says home like a meal made from scratch. The first night I was relatively all moved in, I had my special moving helpers--my family--over for a big pasta dinner. And I had them over again this weekend for a nice cheese tasting and steak dinner--with a pumpkin fudge chaser thanks to Coconut Mama. I made stuffed acorn squash for myself all week and epic breakfasts over the weekend. I'll be making Tea a la St. James Tea Room in Albuquerque for a good friend next weekend. And I plan to keep cooking! The menu planning, the preparations, the enjoyable get-togethers all bring warmth to a home the way nothing else can.

2. Take a long bubble bath. Okay, so this might not be for everyone, but after long hours moving, an Epsom salt bath does wonders for the soul. It's also become a ritual for me to take a super long bubble bath in each new space I move into. There's something about letting the soapy bubbles wash over you as you get lost in a good paperback that lets you relax and feel like you're in a nourishing space. If bubble baths aren't your deal (no judgement!), craft your own ritual that allows you to feel nourished in your new space.

3. Have a pajama day. Who says jammies are just for nighttime? A home isn't a home until you spend time in it--especially down time, where you don't have to go anywhere or do anything. So set aside a day to putter around in your PJs. Have no agenda, merely float from cooking in the kitchen to lounging on the couch, to staring out your window to lingering over the titles on your bookshelves. It's a great way to get to know your new home.

4. Brew a pot of tea. Even if you don't make your own tea blends like I do, there is something about putting on hot water for tea and then drinking a pot on the couch as you sift through magazines, knit, or get lost in a good book to sooth the soul. Tea says home. And if it's a relaxing herbal blend, it might also say nap on the couch. Either way, brewing tea connects you to the rituals of your daily life--an essential aspect of making your house a home.

5. Do yoga or meditate or whatever you do as part of your self-care routine. During moving, it is easy to let your normal self-care routine (exercise, eating right, sleeping) slip in favor of getting your house settled. But as soon as humanly possible, get back to that routine. Fill your home with the tranquil energy of a good meditation session, the clean energy of a wholesome meal, the catharsis of a good yoga that wrings out the aches and pains brought on by hauling boxes.

So there they are--my tips for making a house a home. They're also useful to reconnect with your space if you've been out a lot lately. I hope they inspire you to make your living space a sanctuary that nourishes your soul. Happy homemaking!

(Haunted) House Hunting!

October 21, 2013

Houses retain the energies of those who have passed through them. The longer a person is in a home, the more the house absorbs the energy of that person--for better or worse. Over the years, those energies settle into the house, becoming part of its foundation.

I've been thinking about this lately as I've finished my own search for a new home. Just as important as the big kitchen or the walk-in closet is the vibe of the home. How do I feel when I enter it? Does it invite lightness and good energy? Or am I feeling anxious and heavy as I walk from room to room? These sensations matter. They tell us a lot about the residual energy of past residents--energetic hauntings if you will.

My sister, who is also house hunting with her husband right now, always asks the same question when talking to real estate agents: why are the owners selling this home? What made the previous tenant decide to move? Her reasoning is simple: she doesn't want a house that has absorbed negative energy from previous owners. That energy remains and will then affect the quality of her household. She listens to the answers, both implicit and explicit: the family needed a bigger house after having their second child, the woman is moving in with her boyfriend--both reasons showing a home of growth and abundance.

She also listens to the half-truths the agents relate: the house was too much work, the owners wanted a change. These empty answers can sometimes inadvertently reveal the unsettled energies of the house--especially when paired with that creepy unfinished basement or the random cubbyhole built into the floor of the closet.

Recognizing a haunted house is in more than just hearing strange whispers and seeing things out of the corner of your eye. It is more than the cemetery in the back of the house, or the weird illustrations coating the walls in the attic. It's about the feel of the house. More than one friend has told me about an outwardly fine home they didn't like for no other reason than the fact that they felt uneasy in that space. These impressions tell us that it isn't the right home for us--its energies are not our energies. Or worse, there is seriously bad juju that saturates the walls, left there by former tenants.

Or course, not all hauntings are bad. My apartment in Seattle was totally haunted--it was once an old mansion that was converted into an apartment building many years ago, so naturally, it had seen a lot of things and absorbed a lot of different vibes. And not all the energy was the same from room to room in that building. The laundry room in the basement, for example, was dark and heavy, as was the greenish corridor with the yellowed sunken-in flooring you had to walk down to get to it--certainly no place I would want to find myself alone at night, even though it was tucked inside a safe apartment complex. On the flip side, my apartment itself was characterized by lots of friendly light that poured in through giant windows. It was a happy space, a sanctuary from the heaviness of school. I'd come to see my one-bedroom apartment as having its own spirit--a light, bright, playful spirit that had no room for droll professors or even more boorish theory books. I was more than happy with this haunting, as we were in perfect agreement.

I felt the same zing in that apartment as I did in finding my new place here in Albuquerque. That's how I knew this new home was right. After months of searching for the right new home, I finally found the one that spoke to me (okay, an apartment!). It didn't have creepy dark alleyways right behind it, or fake faded flowers outside its door; it didn't have dirty corners and thin walls; it didn't have sterile rooms or cold kitchens. It was simply bright light and warmth, homey and clean, at once cozy yet spacious. Our energies were simpatico.

So, is this new place haunted? Probably, but from where I'm standing, it's absorbed nothing but good energy, so I'm happy with the kind of haunted it is. I just hope it likes green chile stew and old movies as much as I do.

Nourishing Tea

October 12, 2013

Tea blending is daily magic in its most basic form: creating a healing concoction of herbs to create well-being.

The curanderas, or medicine women of New Mexico, have been doing it for years to promote health and prevent, or in some cases cure, illness. Tea blending draws from the power of the earth to nourish ourselves with the gifts of nature. I'm not saying that I'm above using Tylenol for headaches or a good antibiotic when I get sick, but a strong ginger and echinacea tea does wonders to prevent a cold, and Valerian and hops chill me out better than any shot of whiskey. Plus, taking the time to blend my own teas allows me to consciously imbue my tea drinking habit with self-care.

I feel like an alchemist when I'm in my kitchen adding a pinch of this herb and a handful of those flowers, thinking about what tastes, colors, and healing properties best work together to create a nourishing brew.

All if which is my way of saying that I've been tinkering with a new tea recipe. I've been marinating on this idea of nourishment--how do we feed ourselves, our souls, or minds, our bodies? What we ingest both physically and psychically determines our sense of personal well-being. So with this in mind, I went to work in my kitchen, playing with herbs that would both soothe and nourish for my latest blend.

This new tea has got chamomile in it, the ultimate all around comforting flower. It is known for soothing restless minds and minor aches and pains in the body. To boost the soothing properties of my tea, I also added the happy flower calendula aka marigold. This flower brings a burst of golden color to my blend, along with skin soothing and heart healing properties. The key nourishing ingredient in my blend is alfalfa, which is chock-full of vitamins A, E, K, B, and D, and minerals like iron, magnesium, and potassium to name a few. The final touch to this blend is fennel seed. It helps balance the grassiness of the alfalfa with its subtle sweetness--and let's not forget that these little seeds aid digestion.

I made a cup of this tea for my mom when she was frazzled after a sleepless night. What a change it caused! Twenty minutes after a cup of this nourishing blend, she was back to her tranquil self, restored and ready to tackle the day's adventures.

I'm including the recipe here and hope that you will try it. You can find these herbs at your local herb store (mine is actually called "The Herb Store") or online at Rose Mountain Herbs. I look forward to hearing about the results!

Ingredients:

1 cup chamomile flowers

1/2 cup alfalfa leaves

1/2 cup calendula (marigold flowers)

1/4 cup fennel seeds

Blend all ingredients in a bowl and transfer to an airtight container. Keep away from direct sunlight and heat. To brew, use a heaping tablespoon per cup of hot water. Makes 2 1/4 cups. Enjoy!