I met Elizabeth Gilbert
..they say don't meet your heroes
This piece was originally published as the introduction to the May issue of our monthly print paper, The Retreat. The theme: Reclamation. To read it in its intended analog form, go here.
Two days before our Reclamation Retreat was set to begin in Osa, I found myself sitting at a café table in San José, Costa Rica, with four friends. We’d taken an Uber fifty minutes to a hip neighborhood to work on our computers, and as I sat there, finalizing shuttles and last-minute retreat details, I kept looking out the window at this woman sitting on a bench with her tiny dog.
She had a shaved head and was wearing red capris, a red collared shirt with a white sweater pulled over the top, yellow shoes, and wide-framed peach glasses. It wasn’t any of the aforementioned that kept grabbing my attention though—it was her glow. Her smile. Her indisputable joy for life on a Friday morning.
Then, mid sentence and on my 18th glance at the woman, I realized. Holy shit, I said, that’s Elizabeth Gilbert. For those of you readers who do not know who the iconic Elizabeth Gilbert is, I’ve got three words for you: Eat, Pray, Love.
Liz Gilbert, who wrote and lived the bestselling book Eat, Pray, Love (also Big Magic, City of Girls, etc.) was right there, sitting on a bench 100 feet away from me. There is something you should know about me: as much as I hate to admit it, I have a tendency to get starstruck fairly easily, no matter the celebrity (see: I cried meeting Janet Jackson when I was in high school—I still only know one Janet Jackson song), so imagine the intensity of awe that hit me when I realized one of my favorite writers, the reason I started this very print publication, was a measly 100 feet away.
At first, no one at the table believed me. I’m embarrassed to say that one of my friends (who will not be named) said who? When I shook her and said EAT PRAY LOVE! her response was, Oh! Who did she play in that movie? In order to prove myself, I went on Liz’s Instagram and showed them her shaved head and wide-framed peach glasses. I rested my case.
But I’ll be damned if I got up and tried to strike up a conversation with Elizabeth Gilbert while she was just trying to enjoy a solo date with herself (+ tiny dog)—partly because I didn’t want to be that annoying fan, but also because I couldn’t have walked if I tried. My legs had lost all mobility and I was, well, sweating.
Gilbert’s book Big Magic served as both a motor and anchor during my journey to create The Retreat. When the idea first entered my brain, I was overtaken—head-over-heels in love and couldn’t stop thinking about it. At the time though, I had two jobs, just opened a yoga studio, and was teaching twelve classes per week. Per Liz’s (forcing a first-name basis here) advice, I prayed to the genius gods to please, not give this idea to anyone else, I’ll create it, I promise. And, a few months later, I did. That was two years ago.
I digress—back to the story. Eventually, Liz and her dog got up and walked inside to leave the cafe through the front door. She passed our table, and as her back turned toward us and her dog began to chaperone her out, I blurted out, “Hi! We love your work.” It wasn’t my finest hour, but again, see my excuse above.
Liz and her yellow shoes turned around, revealing a huge smile on her face as she pulled her dog toward us. “Oh, hello!” she responded. One thing led to the next, and before we knew it, she was giving us stickers that said “You Are Loved” and I was asking her to tell us her famous Ladder Story. Mind you, I still couldn’t stand at that point, but all the same, Liz Gilbert was commanding our table with her magnetism and storytelling and we were sitting around her like Kindergarteners during storytime.
So Liz tells us the ladder story—and because I blacked out, I’ll paraphrase it here:
One day, Liz is walking through Venice, California, and she sees a man on a shaky ladder, painting. She knows—thanks to her farm-girl roots—just how dangerous a wobbly ladder can be. So, without a second thought, she walks over and holds it steady for him. He has no idea she’s there, supporting him from below.
She stands there for a while, silent and unseen. And when he finishes his work, she quietly walks away. As she turns the corner, she thinks to herself: What if that was my purpose?
What if I’ve spent my whole life searching for this grand, world-shifting “why”... only to realize that maybe it was just to keep that man safe for a few minutes? What if that’s enough? And now that I’ve completed that, what if the whole point is to just enjoy life and have fun with my dog?
The next day, sitting in front of our retreat group, I shared that story. I told them that this is what we were there to reclaim: the idea that our purpose doesn’t have to be heavy or heroic.
What if it’s not a mountain to climb, but a moment to feel?
What if our purpose is to live—deeply, joyfully, and completely?
To eat, pray, love?
I shared that this was what we were going to work on reclaiming: the idea that our purpose is simple—to fully live.
There are so many parts of ourselves we stash away. Things we save for later. Things we were told were too much, or too silly, or too impractical. But in the name of Lizzy G (now we’re on a forced nickname basis), I call bullshit.
We’re reclaiming it all. Because that—that wholeness—is what it means to truly live.
So, Reader, think of this issue as your very own version of our week-long Reclamation Retreat in Costa Rica. Inside, you’ll find invitations to eat the food, swim in the water, and make the art—just for the sake of making the art.
This issue feels like a reclamation for me, too. Years ago, the movie 13 Going on 30 stole my heart. I wanted to be Jenna—magazine editor and disruptor. I swore that if I had a magazine, I’d do things differently. One day, I’d even put my friends on the cover. That day is here.
This month’s muses aren’t just two of my best friends—they’re my biggest inspirations and co-hosts from the Reclamation Retreat.
On our retreat, Sarah Viducic, Doctor of Traditional Chinese Medicine and licensed acupuncturist, guided us in reclaiming our body’s sovereignty through healing workshops and treatments. Inside, you’ll find her DIY acupuncture guide, plus our 5 Elements Quiz and Mini-Workshop.
Elise Bradfute, artist and yoga teacher, helped us reconnect with our creativity and inner fire. One of her workshops—how to make cyanotypes—is featured right here in these pages.
And, as fate would have it, both of these humans just turned 30. So yes, this issue is about lifting them up—but also about celebrating this moment we’re all in: reclaiming our voices, our dreams, and our favorite versions of self, without the pressure of a grand purpose.
Thirteen-year-old us would be proud. And I’d like to think Lizzy G would be, too.
Our retreat group (missing two in the photo, shoutout Sally & Meg <3)