Spellbound: Surrender to the tractor beam of enchantment

Awe. Rapture. Enlivened.

Hello Hedge Schoolers,

I write with a sniffle this week so I'll save you the pain of listening to my nasally dulcet tones. A little rest, a slowing of pace, the order of the day.

This week's inquiry is related to enchantment. Enchanted, from the French word 'enchanter', means 'to be sung'.

But it also means to practice sorcery or witchcraft.
Or to be bewitched.
Held by a spell.

Spellbound.

Sung into submission by a spell.

What holds you spellbound?

What holds you in divine rapture, beckoning you to lean in closer and be wide-eyed and open?

Personally, poetry enchants me. The language, a collection of wildflower words captured in a bouquet demands surrender to the beauty. My brain rushes to know it. To categorise. But poetry just has its way with me. The weight of the words land in the moment and I surrender to the potency of that spell.

So much magic if we are open to it.

We have lost our way with the magical. Our overzealous relationship with the quantifiable, the tangible, the logical has stripped us of our delight in the mystery. Our delight in that which holds us spellbound. Music. Nature. Art. Human connection. All are magical potions that can enchant us out of the narrow inner story of our lives. It can breathe us alive with rapture, bringing colour to life.

The recent Supermoon in the Southern Hemisphere is a perfect example. As I stepped out into the brisk Autumn night air, I was stopped in my tracks. Awe the only response as the prominence and divine beauty of the moon captured me in a tractor beam. I stood there in a trance, hypnotised by the magnificence. Time disappears in these moments. There is no place to be or list of things to do, just communion with the Universe.

So ask yourself, what holds you spellbound?
And when were you last spellbound?

If you struggle to answer either of those questions, then bring the magic back into your life by opening your senses to the wonder of this tremendous place we get to call home.

You only have a short time here. You might as well witness the magic of aliveness as much as possible.

It's a short gift.

Till next week,

Steve