Enchantment Part 2

October 14, 2026

The word enchantment began in song. It traces back to the Indo-European root kan, meaning “to sing or cry out.” From this came the Latin cantare, “to sing,” and later incantare, meaning “to cast a spell through singing.” Over time, enchantment came to mean being deeply charmed, fascinated, or delighted by beauty and wonder.

As we reflect on enchantment, we begin to see that it is essential to the spiritual life.

The spiritual life acknowledges that pain is part of the human experience. It is only natural, then, that it should also contain the qualities that help heal our suffering. Deep within our psyche and soul live the counterweights to suffering—the medicines for it: the sublime embrace of God; the blissful experience of being loved and supported; the beautiful, the comforting, the inspiring, the heartwarming, and, of course, the enchanting.

These experiences transport us into another world—a world of hope, wonder, fascination, possibility, and nearness to our Creator. They awaken our curiosity and open our infinite imagination. Many spiritual teachers suggest that the enchanted world is actually the real world—the world from which we have somehow become disconnected.

If we had not first experienced some measure of happiness, affirmation, love, and encouragement as babies, how could we ever have said “yes” to life? Studies of early childhood show that when babies are deprived of affection, attachment, stimulation, touch, and loving attention, their development can be profoundly harmed. If such isolation happens for an extended period of time, the baby becomes depressed and can even die. A baby needs not only food and shelter but also delight—the light in another person’s eyes that says, “I see you, and I am glad you are here.” These help them say “yes!” to life. 

I believe that affirmation in all its many forms is one of our earliest experiences of enchantment. It is among the life-giving qualities that awaken and sustain us—physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I recall one of my first enchantments. When I was between two and three years old, my parents moved from Birmingham, in north-central Alabama, to the Gulf Coast city of Mobile. The day they first took me to the beaches of the Gulf of Mexico became a source of spiritual nurturance that has remained with me ever since.

Why? Because on that day, I was thoroughly enchanted.

My mother and father carried me onto the beach. My daddy gently lowered me from his shoulders until my bare feet touched the sparkling grains of crystal quartz—sugar-white and brilliant. Before me were the waves, unlike anything I had ever seen or experienced. I stood in the breeze, awestruck by everything I could touch, smell, hear, and see. I was enthralled—taken aback by sheer wonder.

Then my mother and father heaped wet sand around one of my feet and gently patted down the little mound that surrounded my foot. They carefully slipped my foot out, leaving a mound of sand with a doorway. When they placed a slender piece of sea oat straw on top as a chimney, the mound miraculously became a little house.

I was enchanted. In the backdrop of a fantasy scape, before my very eyes, imagination and creativity magically came alive in a way I had never experienced. 

I remember, as if it were yesterday, the first time we took our son Ben to the beaches. He rode on my shoulders, just as I had ridden on my daddy’s. When we arrived and placed his little feet upon the sugar-white sand, he squealed with delight. The first time we took our baby daughter Lauren there, she rolled in the sand as though becoming one with it.

I like to think that they, too, were enchanted.

Perhaps enchantment is one way love carries wonder from one generation to the next. My parents opened that enchanted world for me, and years later, Lark and I opened it for our children. The sand, the wind, and the waves were much the same—but the wonder was born anew.

Enchantment does that. It makes sacred memories new again, and for one luminous moment, it may sing to us to the soul’s first delighted “yes” to life. Embodied enchantment reminds us of why we live.

Spiritual Practice

Read Arthur Gordon's A Touch of Wonder. Now reach back in your memory to see what comes up when you ask Spirit to unearth one of your first enchantments. 

Inquiry

Why do you think wonder and enchantment are so vital for childhood? 

Prayer

Dear God, The soles of my feet felt something my soul had never felt. I pray to continue to feel Your enchanted presence, everywhere I go.

Amen