“Enchantment” By Sandra Richardson, AKA Zandi www.zandidesigns.com Now I understand why they call New Mexico, “The Land of Enchantment.” It’s because the land itself enchants you, casting a spell upon you which can never be undone. The Land makes only one request, before bequeathing this blessing spell: First, you must open your heart. You must open your heart to the swish of brown feathers of the hawk, as he floats by. You must open your heart to the hum of the lightningfast beat of hummingbird wings. You must open your heart to the lightning that scratches bright messages of “Be Here Now” across the charcoal slate of the sky. You must open your heart to the rainbow, sometimes twins, that fill the space in the skies scratched open by the lightning, and rinsed clean by walking rain. You must open your heart to the warm rays of the fat golden sun smiling down at you from a sky colored a blue so pure it defies description. You must plunge your open heart into the deep gorge in Mother Earth, a gouge that boldly proclaims, “I am woman! Honor my cleavage, my caverns, my dark depths.” And honor your own. You must open your heart to the masculine majesty of ‘The Mountain.” The Patrón, cloaked in the color of Christ’s blood, expecting—as a good father would do—that you honor your Mother, your brothers and sisters. No longer a lonely child, in this enchanted land, you are gifted with a multitude of brothers and sisters: the rocks, the trees, the rivers, the creepy crawlies, the feathered and the furry fourlegged, as well as the twolegged. One phrase describes ‘family’ here: “Mitakuye Oyasin,” (We are all related.) If you can open your heart to these things, the Land will enchant you, as it has enchanted me. The stars that once astonished with their bright closeness become expected, taken for granted, until that one night you look up, smile, and you see them smiling back. I love this land! My Land. My part of God’s creation, just outside the backdoor of my house. My adobe mud house cuddles me within its soft corners. My house, which is also made of the land. This is not my ancestral land. My people are not from here. My people are also wild tribes who worship Nature—but they are the Celts of Eire and Gaul, from far away, across the big ocean. I am not from here either. I am of the breed of roving souls and restless hearts, destined to cross many lands and seas searching for the place my heart could call home. But do not be deceived, this quest for home has costs. Much is demanded of those who seek acceptance in this enchanted place. The first struggle is with acceptance itself. To learn the wisdom of acceptance, you must learn to see with your heart’s eye. First, you must accept yourself—every nook and cranny of yourself. The Land lets you leave nothing hidden. Delving fearlessly into your dark center, you find your greatest gift—your creative nature. Now you embrace both ugly and beauty. This interplay of shadow and light informs all you create. Seeing past your own shadow, your heart’s eye recognizes that truly we are all one—no matter how different the appearance, practice or prayer. The center of your knowing must become this wisdom: we are all from the One Source. This knowing must stick to your skin, inside and out, like adobe mud between your toes. The yearly ritual of remudding your walls reminds you of Source. The adobe dirt cakes under your nails, its powdery breath lines your lungs. Micaceous TierraBlanca clay slickcoats your creative spirit, so it sparkles in the light.
Now you sense that the Land and you are one. It is in your bloodstream. This Enchanted Land has become your land. Where once you gawked and stood outside the circle, now you gravitate to the ancient ceremonies the Keepers of this Land repeat every year, year after year without fail, because they know how these rituals nurture the Land and the People. And one day, as the sun touches The Mountain at dawn, and then casts a rose glow on the bare chests of the dancers, it hits you! Like a magic arrow piercing your heart, you just know, NOW you belong. Now you are truly IN the Land of Enchantment, and you will never be the same. And, you will probably never leave. But, I know, if I do leave someday, the Land will never leave me. I know this Enchantment will tell its story in the history of my heart forever. Sandra Richardson is a freelance fashion designer, art dealer and writer who moved from Sydney, Australia to Taos, NM in 1994. See her original designs by appointment (575) 7511882 or online: www.zandidesigns.com