How Sharon Blackie's "The Enchanted Life" Taught Me to See Magic in a Salamander

The book opens with a story I think about nearly every time I step outside.

Sharon Blackie describes the same walk through summer woods, taken by two different versions of ourselves. In the first version, we're hurrying, checking our phones, thinking about everything we need to do when we get home, worrying about money and obligations. A crow lands nearby, but we barely notice. We're just trying to get the walk over with so we can return to "real life."

In the second version of the walk, we move differently. We notice the smell of bluebells. We watch that same crow land on a branch and we stand there, respectfully, drinking in the glossy beauty of its feathers. We listen. We wonder if it's a crow or a raven. We let ourselves be curious. When we finally leave the woods, Blackie writes, we carry bluebell in our lungs and crow in our ears.

I've been both of those people. I spent years as the first version, stressed and disconnected, hurrying through my days like they were obstacles between me and some imaginary finish line. But something about that passage stopped me cold when I first read it.

I've always loved staying curious about the things around us. Really seeing them.

On a recent walk, I spotted a salamander crossing the path. He blended so perfectly with the soil that I almost missed him. Almost. But because I was actually looking, exploring the environment around me instead of rushing through it, I saw him. I watched him do his salamander business until he disappeared into the undergrowth.

That's the kind of moment Blackie is talking about when she writes about enchantment.

It's noticing the color of bark on different trees. How a red alder has white bark on the outside, but underneath that dry outer layer, it's reddish. And once it's been cut and laying on the ground for some time, that red turns to copper. Magnificent copper. The way seasons transform these details – from spring's bright greens to autumn's copper tones – directly influences our creative energy.

It's hugging trees to feel their living vibration against your body. Finding pretty rocks along the way. Spotting mushrooms. Noticing how big or small a plant is, and the patterns in a single leaf.

Throughout "The Enchanted Life," Blackie reminds us that enchantment isn't fantasy or escapism. It's something much more grounded than that. She defines it as a vivid sense of belongingness to a rich and many-layered world, a profound and whole-hearted participation in the adventure of life.

The enchanted life embraces wonder and fully engages the creative imagination, but it's also deeply embodied, ecological, and grounded in place and community. It thrives on work that has heart and meaning. It respects wild things and recognizes the wisdom of the crow. It seeks out the medicine of plants.

Enchanted living is slow living.

Blackie weaves together psychology, mythology, folklore, and her own personal journey of moving to wild places and relearning how to truly inhabit the world. She talks about how we've forgotten who we are, how we've traveled too far from the natural world that is our home and the sense of enchantment we knew as children.

The book explores how to bring enchantment into every aspect of daily life through practical tools and exercises. She discusses myth and fairy tales, traditional crafts, poetry, song, and dance. She shares stories of people from around the world who have chosen to live more enchanted lives, not by escaping to some fantasy realm, but by changing their relationship with the ordinary world right in front of them.

One concept that stuck with me: If the world is alive, if nature has consciousness, then we're not just singular beings on a lump of inert matter in an inert universe. Everything around us is alive. There is no such thing as inert. We're standing in the midst of an aliveness, and that aliveness deserves our attention, our respect, our care.

When I read that, something shifted.

Because as artists, we already know this, don't we? We've always known it. Every time we sit down to paint or draw or create, we're trying to capture that aliveness. That moment when light hits water a certain way. The curve of a bird's wing. The exact shade of green in new spring leaves.

But somewhere along the way, we started rushing. We got caught up in the rat race, in productivity metrics, in scrolling and consuming and checking off lists. We stopped really seeing.

I recommend "The Enchanted Life" to anyone who feels caught up in the rushing, anyone who's lost their sense of creativity and joy, and anyone who needs permission to slow down and notice the world again.

This book will change how you walk through your days. It will remind you that the extraordinary lives at the heart of the ordinary, if only we have eyes to see it.

Where Wonder Feeds Our Art & Provides an Enchanted Life

At The Yellow Studio, we know that the best art comes from artists who are still curious, still noticing, still letting the world surprise them.

That salamander I almost missed might become the subject of a future illustration. The copper glow of aged red alder bark could turn into a series of abstract pieces I never would have imagined if I'd been hurrying past.

This is why slowing down isn't a luxury for artists. It's essential.

When we rush through our days, when we're always thinking about the next task or worry, when we forget to really see the world around us, our art suffers. It becomes repetitive, flat, disconnected from the very thing that makes it art: that spark of genuine observation, that moment of wonder.

Your paintings, your illustrations, your creative work – they're fed by these moments of attention. By the choice to stop and watch a bird. By the decision to kneel down and really look at that interesting rock. By the practice of asking questions and staying curious about how things exist and grow. This human ability to notice, to connect, to transform what we see into art – that's what makes our creative process irreplaceable.

The enchanted life isn't about moving to a cottage in the woods or abandoning responsibilities. It's about bringing that quality of attention to wherever you are, whatever you're doing. It's about choosing to see. Like building a sustainable art business, it's about the small, intentional choices we make each day.

And when you do? Your art will know the difference.