I wrote most of this book in pieces — a voice note whispered in the bathroom, a frantic idea in the shower, ten pages typed with my thumbs at soccer practice while pretending to watch drills. I’d write like something was chasing me for a week, then not touch it for three months. There was no system. There was no writing retreat. There was just me, sneaking sentences between everything else.
I should probably tell you who “me” is.
I’m Danielle — mom of two (a boy and a girl), MBA, former corporate professional who spent years at companies where nobody talked about energy or intuition or anything that couldn’t fit on a spreadsheet. And then there’s the other side of my résumé: I’ve been quietly exploring spirituality my entire life. I worked for an ayahuasca retreat center in Costa Rica, sat in ten ceremonies myself, and served Kambo — a traditional frog medicine — to hundreds of people. I’ve been the woman in the boardroom and the woman in the jungle. Turns out, both versions of me were looking for the same thing.
Which brings me to a gentle heads-up: some of these stories involve plant medicine ceremonies — ayahuasca, frog medicine, things that might sound wild if you’ve never heard of them. I’m not here to recruit you. But I’m not going to pretend those experiences didn’t crack me open in ways that matter. Think of me as the friend who went a little further down the path and came back to tell you about it over coffee. If you’re even a little curious, you’re exactly who I wrote this for.
Here’s the thing nobody tells you about motherhood: the spiritual stuff doesn’t stop when the kids show up. It just gets buried — under permission slips and goldfish crackers and the quiet panic of realizing you forgot picture day for the second year in a row. You start to think the version of you that wondered about the universe, who felt magic in random places, who believed in something bigger — maybe she was just younger and had more free time.
She wasn’t. And she didn’t.
She’s still in there. She’s just tired.
This book isn’t going to ask you to wake up at 5 a.m. to meditate. I’m not going to tell you to journal or sage your house or manifest anything. I don’t have a five-step process. I barely have a process for getting out the door with matching shoes on both kids.
What I have are stories. Sixty of them, actually — tiny, weird, sometimes embarrassing moments where the sacred snuck in when I wasn’t looking. A little girl in a wedding dress she found in the back of my closet who wrecked me before dinner. A missing Peep that taught me more than most therapy sessions. Brandon Walsh showing up in the middle of an ayahuasca ceremony, which somehow made perfect sense.
These aren’t lessons. They’re not mantras. They’re just the moments I almost missed because I was too busy thinking spirituality was supposed to look like something else — something quieter, something more put-together, something that definitely didn’t involve a Darth Vader balloon.
So what is spiritual candy? It’s anything that makes your heart feel full and your soul say “Yes!” It’s the laughter that erupts at the dinner table when no one can stop giggling, the car-concert your kid puts on, the way sunlight hits your messy kitchen counter just right. It’s the tiny doses of magic that are already hiding in your real life — no complicated rituals required.
If you’ve ever stood in your kitchen at 11 p.m., finally alone, and felt something — not sadness, not happiness, just something — this book is for you.
The magic was never gone. It was just hiding in the chaos, dressed as ordinary life, waiting for you to notice.
Welcome to Spiritual Candy. Unwrap whatever you want.
Okay, picture this: me, sitting with my sister, totally sleep-deprived in the blur of new motherhood. We’re not talking about postpartum depression — just the sheer madness that comes with having a baby. My sister, already seasoned with a kid, was my lifeline. She’d been through the sleepless nights, the weird post-birth body stuff, and the whole “who am I now?” feeling. Our conversations were often raw, real, and sometimes full of laughter because honestly — what else can you do when you’re in the trenches?
One conversation that stuck with me was when she told me about a visit from an aunt-in-law during her own early postpartum days. This aunt, bless her heart, took one look at my sister — puffy-eyed and exhausted — and said, “It seems like you’ve lost your sparkle.”
Excuse me, what? Lost her sparkle? Just hearing about it made me want to drive to this woman’s house and give her a piece of my mind. But later, once I cooled off, I realized: can we lose our sparkle? And if we do, how on earth do we get it back?
Here’s the thing: kids are amazing little love-bundles, but they also turn your world upside down. It’s easy to feel like you’ve lost yourself in the endless shuffle of diapers, school projects, and snack requests. That’s where Spiritual Candy comes in. If you’ve ever looked in the mirror and wondered where your sparkle went — or if you’re craving just a bit of that old magic again — this book is your guide. I’m not here to tell you to overhaul your life (who has time for that?), but to remind you that your sparkle is still there — and it’s time to let it shine again.
Have you ever felt like spirituality can be overly serious? Sometimes the word “spirituality” brings to mind big emotions, silence, and solitude. You might picture monks meditating in an ashram or strict yoga classes where no one says a word. It often feels like to be truly spiritual, you have to embark on epic journeys — darkness retreats, solo climbs up mountains, or deep, intense plant-medicine ceremonies that stir up tears and “dark nights of the soul.”
I’ve been there myself, and trust me — I survived to tell the tale. I would still absolutely recommend plant medicine when done in the right setting. But this book? This is for anyone who’s spiritually curious or dipping a toe into spirituality for the first time. And if you have been through the deeper ceremonies, maybe you’re ready to explore the lighter side — the side with more laughter, play, and joy.
This book takes a different approach. It’s for those who don’t necessarily consider themselves spiritual, for the curious, and for anyone simply looking for fresh ideas to add to their spiritual toolbelt. Spirituality, at its core, is about recognizing that there’s something greater than ourselves — a belief that we’re part of a larger, cosmic whole. No long meditation sessions required. While meditation is one path, there are plenty of others that lead to the same beautiful sense of oneness with all that is.
Spiritual Candy is about finding magic in the everyday, living in the present moment, and discovering a little bit of heaven right here on Earth.
The best part? There’s no pressure to follow all — or any — of the suggestions in this book. Think of it as a “choose your own adventure,” with bits of inspiration scattered throughout. If you pick up a tip or two along the way, I consider it time well spent. These ideas have worked for me and for friends and family too. The “spiritual recipes” are flexible — tweak them however you like.
My goal is to offer practical, real-life tips. You won’t just find candles, essential oils, or yoga suggestions here (though I love those things!). I’ve kept these chapters short so you can read them in bite-sized pieces, skipping ahead if something doesn’t speak to you.
Ultimately, I hope something in these pages becomes part of your own spiritual journey — and, most importantly, that you smile a little more along the way. As a sweet little bonus, I’ve included a “Sweet Cheat Sheet” at the end so you don’t have to take notes. Just enjoy your adventure through Spiritual Candy Land, and come back anytime you need a little dose of magic.
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