Welcome to the Land of Milk & Honey

This woman—she always speaks to my soul. Anything she shares reminds me of what Life and Love are really supposed to be like. And, as she deepens her journey with God, her life changes… and she changes mine.

Michaela and I have been distant online friends for years now. By distant, I mean… she’s half way around the globe. And yet, we’ve co-created several times together, spoken about some very deep subjects, and always brought a new level of joy to one another.

I’ve expressed this to her many times; she’s amongst my top three favorite writers. Though she often writes in her native language, and not even the most advanced translation software could capture the essence of her message, her words land with me… every single time.

I am astonished at this woman’s capacity. Somehow, we’re always on the same playing field. Life may bring her to the secluded beaches of Portugal, or wandering the everlasting fields of her native town. But somehow, a world apart, she and I are not far off.

Michaela is a muse—a radiant force of joy that God has etched and evolved over the years. Some time ago, she wrote about joy… Lately, love. And, beyond the confines of our somewhat rare but utterly memorable messages, she writes to me what her heart calls her to.

“Hello, Sarah! I send you lovely greetings. You are always in my mind, you know that? I love you from afar.

Yesterday, I was walking at the beach, and God told me: “I don’t want you to work anymore… Ever. Make art, write, sing, and enjoy this expression [of Life.] The byproduct [of living to the fullest] can be the message. Let the frequency of ‘[being on a] mission’ go, the mission is you. ‘Enjoy my creation,’ he says over and over.”

Her softness is enlightening. A slow-dripping, coffee-sipping, pasteis-de-nata-eating reminder that Life is asking to be savored.

Franco comes upstairs after showering. His clean scent and quiet demeanor light up the living room as he shares his latest revelation with me.

He’s inspired to pre-prepare the cannelloni sauce we have planned for tonight.

“It came to me in the shower: why don’t we let the tomatoes marinate as we do steaks? We can season them now and let them marinate in the wine and spices. Then, simmer the tomatoes to the heat instead of shocking them with high temperatures. Let’s do it gently. There’s no rush.”

Frank always inspires me with his latest culinary ordeals. He is a chef in an entrepreneur’s body. But, despite his daily creative obligations, his passion for cuisine takes precedence.

He, like Michaela, exudes an aura of knowing what God has planned. This is one of the things I love most about him. Never rushing—slowly marinating in each moment as if knowing that sitting in the wine and basil of Life does more for the joy-de-vivre than throwing the metaphorical tomatoes into the saucepan.

My tension has melted. I wash my hands and macerate the tomatoes with child-like wonder.

He melts me. His words—his passion, like olive oil and white wine caressing my skin as tomatoes are infusing.

Life should be like this all the time—a simmer into the sauce of Life.

Why be tense? Why live on high heat?

Whether it’s slow-dripped espresso on the boardwalk in Portugal,

Or marinating the cannelloni sauce hours in advance.

Can’t slow living be the new standard?

Must we always rush, and pressure, and prove, and ‘mission’?

As the noise is re-introduced into the space, I feel my tension reappear. But it doesn’t rise like yeast in a delicious sourdough. It’s more like a boiling kettle whose whistle intensifies until it’s unbearable.

But, I softly remind myself that life can be like jazz music and deep breaths. There is no need to buy into the rush.

I wonder, if other people could give slow living a chance, would they crack before arriving to the promised land? Are we so attached to life under the reign of stress that the land of milk and honey feels imperceivable?

“He makes me to rest in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters. He will make me lie upon lush pastures and he will lead me by restful waters." Psalm 23:2

Doesn’t this sound incredible? Life can be lush, still, restful. Why have it any other way?

Why do we prefer extra-large double-doubles over slow-brewed mornings? Or hyper-stimulating meme pages over delightfully written pages of a magazine?

Have we chosen a life of bread and circuses without knowing that the land of milk and honey awaits us?

Do we really believe that life is meant to be canned sauce and overcooked spaghetti? Or, can we try, even for a moment, to put our hands in the bowl and feel the wine and olive oil? Can we choose—with the utmost presence—the basil and temperature at which we live our lives?

Speaking slowly, with intention.

Living deliciously, like milk and honey.

Travelling frequently… to boardwalks and Portuguese cafes.

And to live, just a slight degree more, like Franco and Michaela.

As God… should have it.

Xx

Sarah Elle