Enchantment is a practice, not a feeling that arrives on its own

May's central reframing is that wonder isn't a mood we passively wait to be struck by, the way we might wait for inspiration or luck. She treats enchantment as closer to a skill that atrophies without use and can be deliberately rebuilt through consistent small acts of attention — pausing at something ordinary long enough to actually see it, rather than registering it and moving on. This distinction matters because it shifts responsibility: instead of concluding that modern life has simply drained the world of magic, May argues we've stopped doing the specific, low-effort work that lets magic register at all. The practice she describes isn't about seeking out spectacular or exotic experiences; it's closer to training attention on what's already present but usually ignored — a caterpillar's motion, the particular light at a certain hour. Takeaway: wonder is less something you find and more something you rehearse until it becomes available again.