For me, food has always been one of the most immediate ways to connect with my body, desires, and presence. Every bite and choice reminds me that I exist here and now. Eating is not just sustenance; it is a meditation, a doorway into awareness, a small but profound way of showing up for myself. I think of food as a kind of fuse at the heart of life. It carries secrets about our bodies, thoughts, unspoken emotions, and even what we hide from ourselves. It is a mirror –  revealing both what nourishes us and what blocks us, often in ways we are only learning to recognize.

As a highly sensitive person, and especially as a teenager, everyday life was not easy – as many times I found myself ‘eating my emotions’ or becoming totally exhausted simply from not eating in synch with my body. Around age 15, once I understood how important it was to eat consciously, my journey expanded into exploration. I tried nearly every “diet” or “method” I could find: from vegetarianism (which came naturally, since I grew up without meat at home) to ketogenic, avoiding dairy, and eating according to Chinese medicine principles. Each experiment was accompanied by questions, trials, and inevitable falls. It felt a little like a journey of faith – starting with intention but no roadmap, facing unexpected challenges, stumbling, rising again, thinking “this is it” only to stumble once more. 

Each time, even when it was painful or long, I shed what was unnecessary. Through this process, I learned that the most important practice is a compassionate, open relationship with myself. Food is just another way to express and reflect how I treat my inner and outer world – and they are in fact one. Eating consciously is about listening deeply, observing without judgment, and responding with care. Shopping, preparing, and eating become acts of mindfulness, a dialogue and prayer. I have learned the hard way that this is what the body truly wants.

These past few years, I have been more accepting of my sensitivity, embracing it as a gift rather than a limitation. At this time, I discovered Sarah Ben Ezri, a therapist and food consultant, leading a beautiful group of women, which I am now part of, in a method called “Natural Nutrition”. Watching one simple Instagram post – her eating a watermelon, laughing, and present in that small act – sparked something in me, a recognition I could not ignore. 

I began following her, and today, as part of the community, we share recipes, insights, and questions together. We explore the method, which she insists is not a religion, yet blends psalms, Chinese medicine, and the teachings of Rambam. It is all about nourishment – stating that food could function as light entering the body, each choice can carry intention, and the body does not need much, only what is precise, deliberate, and conscious. For me, this feels like a perfect and gentle path to walk. It emphasizes food as both literal and spiritual nourishment. It teaches patience, devotion, and awareness. It reminds me that faith can exist in the smallest, most ordinary acts, that light can enter through the lips, the hands, the intention. And sharing this path with others, with a community, magnifies its radiance, creating a network of quiet presence that many times really supports me through the day.
I want to share some simple moments of faith and food with you:

• Faith often finds its home in the small, everyday rituals of eating. When I start my morning with only fruit, facing the rising sun, it immediately reminds me of the source of life and fills me with energy.
  
• Preparing a soup for Shabbat becomes an act of intention and care, every time something slightly different, always with the desire to nourish and give to as many people as possible. 
• Baking almond and chocolate balls, gluten-free, and sharing them with neighbors, is a poetic way to extend love beyond myself.
• Drinking my favorite herbal tea, louisa, imagining it as the name I might one day give my daughter.
• Shopping at the market, surrounded by vegetables and fruits, I savor their colors and textures, appreciating the abundance and simplicity.

And yet, balance remains: enjoying pizza with friends or a chocolate cake in a family dinner reminds me that joy is as sacred as any ritual! Because I know my boundaries a bit better now, I can be freer. This is, of course, an ongoing humbling process. These are the moments when food and faith converge, where intention transforms sustenance. In these small acts, I find a bridge between nourishment and devotion.

These past two years have been heavy with grief, as we all felt the pain for the hostages. Many of them spoke of thoughts and fantasies about food  – the meals they longed for, the flavors they missed – and it struck all of us deeply. Suddenly, even the simplest act of eating carried profound significance. It reminded us that nothing is guaranteed, that every meal is a gift. I am grateful that we can eat together again and carry with us the awareness of both fragility and resilience in our humanity.

🌱Visit Sarah’s website: https://www.sarahbenezri.com/

🌼Or check out her cool Instagram