Enchantment

A favourite ceramic sculpture by Ann Ferguson with its daily frangipani flowers

Magic. Awe. Wonder. That intake of breath when you come across something so breathtakingly beautiful, you stand in awe and wonder at its majesty. It feels like what you are seeing and feeling is imbued with some kind of enchanting magic.

For most of us as adults, that usually happens when we are witnessing the power and splendour of nature. A cathedral of sentinel stones, a bower of overhanging trees, the incredible white magnolia blossom with its seductive fragrance, a sunset too sublime to put into words. The milky way and northern lights. The enchantment of an evening bubbling with mystery and soft darkness.

Small children who are new to the world, find magic all around them. They live in the present, open to all sensations. If their imagination is fuelled with nature and stories of wonder, they can believe the world is filled with enchantment.

When did that enchantment with the world dissipate? Is it when we were given scientific explanations for natural phenomena, when rain became precipitation not the soft tears from heaven. Or are we too busy as adults rushing through life to notice the minuscule details of nature’s magic?

I’ve been reading a book called Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age by Katherine May. It is a journey of reawakening, purposefully finding ways to connect with nature and the elements. Perhaps this global anxiety that we experience is because we have lost our connection to nature through community and seasonal rituals, the personal practice of gratitude and prayer.

I have been searching for ways to reignite my enchantment with the world. Each morning during these hot summer months, I have placed frangipani blossoms by the front door, connecting me to an experience in Bali some forty years ago when I saw women creating daily floral offerings.

It is such a simple act, yet it starts a flow of gratitude. A blessing on the home that I have, an appreciation of the beauty of the subtle pink gradients on each petal, the smell of fresh rain in the garden. Reconnection with nature and its elements.

As I unpack the artworks I made in Iceland ready for my next exhibition, I remember that magic feeling of travelling on the Greenland ferry, waking up to Icebergs for Breakfast. It’s time for me to travel again….

Icebergs seen from the ferry on route to Ilulissat, Greenland.