Follow Your Passion

I didn’t think too much about moving to France.

The second I clapped eyes on the mill back in September 2015, I knew I wanted it.

It was a magic moment. Aren't those the best? Freeze-frames, when everything is crystal clear. When every face is smiling and laughing. When the light is perfect. And the temperature is comfortable. Positive energy radiates and resonates. And you feel joy deep in your soul.

I was driving down a winding wooded lane that seemed to go nowhere. Everything had gone quiet in my head. There was no past and no future. There I was, at the wheel of my car, enjoying the moment, present to my surroundings.

A hillside covered in trees rose up to my right. To my left, parallel to the lane was a river. I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I'd spent over a decade running a flower farm in drought-stricken L.A.

The sight of so much running water energized me.

Suddenly, the lane opens up to a vista under blue skies. There’s a courtyard. On the right, there’s a long building with exposed limestone walls. Its cheerful pea-green shutters face the river. Kitty-corner to that, a set of buildings greet the river, which disappears under a bridge.

One building looks grand because of its smooth walls. That’s the main house. The other building looks older. Its exposed limestone walls are creamy and rustic. That's the wheelhouse.

Between the main house and the wheelhouse, there’s a big open area under a crafted ceiling of wooden slats. This is where the river flows.

Then you see it.

As you enter the courtyard you see the wooden water wheel turning next to the wheelhouse. It’s not a big impressive wheel. It’s about 4 meters in diameter. But it turns, in a gentle rhythmic way, by the magic of careful engineering. Calculations made centuries ago, still working today.

An image flashes in my head. I see a peasant woman carrying a yoke across the back of her shoulders. A bucket of water dangling on either side. Chickens running around her feet.

I park the car and an old man comes out of the house. The real estate agent is there. They both come out to greet me. I'm an unusual sight in this part of France. Brown. Assertive. Female. Foreign. Alone. (Rural France is patriarchal, family-oriented, and catholic). But I speak French. I'm open. And I have a sense of humor. So, that makes me OK. In any case, they're curious.

The old man wants 180,000 euros for the mill. He says in no uncertain terms: "Madam, this is no holiday home. If you want to buy it, you have to live here."

And that, pretty much, was that.

As I said, I didn’t think too long or hard about my next move. I went with my gut. I went with how that magic moment made me feel. I followed my joy.

I hope you follow yours, too. And if you need a gentle shove in the right direction, then come to Mill on the Rock.