Everyday Enchantment Portals

What To Reach For When Life Feels Flat

Last week, I found myself behind a truck streaming black exhaust into the air, crawling through traffic after a long day at the hospital. In what seemed like a good idea at the time, I felt desperate for distraction and decided to "catch up" on what is happening in the world with a news podcast. There I was, trying to breathe shallowly to avoid the fumes, while simultaneously growing increasingly enraged and anxious about what I was hearing.

That's when it hit me – the difference between consuming and receiving. We consume when we're tired, worried, or feeling wrung out. We think more is the fix: more information, more products, more doing. I can always tell when I've fallen for the consumption trap because it gives me that shallow-breath feeling. There I am in the middle of Target, or scanning headlines on CNN, or scrolling for the best deal on the most non-toxic and cutest water bottle that can get here the fastest, when I realize my muscles are contracted like I'm resisting whatever I'm attempting to ingest.

But receiving? That's where the magic lives. Receiving is a deep, open breath. It comes like enchantment – unexpected, unplanned, arising from something simple and sweet we wanted (but weren’t feeling desperate for). It starts with a "wouldn't it be great if" type of curiosity: friendship, delight, meaning, beauty. And then, when we least expect it, we come across it.

Inchmahome Forest from: thinplacestour.com/inchmahome-forest-walk-stirlingshire-scotland

I wonder what a 2025 Substack version of Reading Rainbow would look like, but for middle-aged women who have a lot on their minds, their schedules, and their hearts. Friends, we are in varying states of ok-ness right now, and I want to offer something you can reach for when you need it most. Living an enchanted life doesn't mean you won't ever be challenged, tired, or troubled again. It means you won't ever do it alone, without some bright, strong thread keeping you connected to something more beautiful and hopeful than the varying state of your mood. And if you are anything like me, the state of our moods is a whole wild terrain, not to be understated. (Want to ask me how I know? You probably don't.)

Books are these brilliant vehicles for receiving rather than consuming. They're free, abundant, accessible tools that manifest enchantment as physical objects we can see and touch and listen to (and I guess taste and smell too, if you want to). Reading expert Maryanne Wolf taught me that when we read, we don't just process language – our brains actually simulate the actions, sensations, and emotions described in the text. We're essentially "living" the story through our bodies, even if only imaginatively. To your brain, you are in the book, moving with or as the character. The boundary between reality and imagination crumbles.

In Celtic literature, they call this a "thin place" – where that boundary between you and the divine is punctured and the veil between this physical world and the spiritual one is lifted. That is enchantment, and thanks to books, we don't need to travel to a remote place like the Inchmahome Forest in Scotland to access it. We just need to reach for the books that cross our paths or return to the ones we loved in the past, open them up, and receive what enchantments wait for us there.

Recently, I rediscovered L.M. Montgomery's Emily of New Moon on my bookshelf, and it felt like finding an old friend who still knew exactly what I needed to hear. Check out this passage that makes my cottage-core, romantic heart sing:

"The house in the hollow was 'a mile from anywhere'... It was situated in a grassy little dale, looking as if it had never been built like other houses but had grown up there like a big, brown mushroom. … Emily didn't know what lonesomeness meant. She had plenty of company. There was Father—and Mike—and Saucy Sal. The Wind Woman was always around; and there were the trees—Adam-and-Eve, and the Rooster Pine, and all the friendly lady-birches. And there was 'the flash,' too. She never knew when it might come, and the possibility of it kept her a-thrill and expectant."

Right now, I've been captivated by Julian of Norwich's Revelations of Divine Love from the 1300s. Be on the lookout for a lot more from me about this in the future because I’m so astonished by her relevant wisdom of finding hope in dark times. Despite the centuries between us, her words feel less like reading and more like resonance:

"Our lord has pity and compassion on us because some creatures make themselves so busy about his secrets; and I am certain if we were aware of how much we would please him and ease ourselves by abandoning that, we would."

Whatever book calls to you, enchantment can be found there. Look for the lines that give you a glimmer of delight, meaning, or curiosity. Linger a little longer on them. Highlight or stick a book flag next to them as a physical act of laying claim to the way they made you feel. This is mine. This is for me. And like magic, you'll find that enchantment will extend off the page. You'll catch it in small moments. That feeling, that idea, that sense will echo back to you in other areas of your life, creating little portals of wonder when you least expect it.

What books are enchanting your life right now? What words are creating magic in your world?