An Evening with Elizabeth Gilbert in Brisbane
Fifteen years ago, I was on a plane heading to Bali, desperately trying to untangle the confusion and pain of my marriage. I was carrying with me a book that would change my life: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I highlighted almost every page, devouring her words like a lifeline. It was as if she had written it for me. The book stayed with me through that trip, guiding me through some of the hardest moments of my life. I also think that because of the power of the book, I accidentally crossed path with an acquaintance from Jakarta who casually took me to see Ketut Liyer, the Balinese Healer Liz mentioned in her book.
My question for Ketut Liyer was simple, should I leave my marriage or should I keep going?
His answer? “If you want to divorce, you can. If you want to stay, you can.”
I thought, gee that’s helpful lol. But in retrospect, I understand the wisdom behind his words. My life was, and always would be, my choice. There were no wrong paths, just different roads leading to my highest potential.
He then proceeded to tell me to: smile and wear makeup. I was baffled. Why would a spiritual healer from a remote village in Bali advise me to wear makeup of all things? At that moment, it felt weird.
Years later, I finally understand. That seemingly superficial advice would lead to a deeper transformation, what many today call a “glow-up.” It wasn’t about the makeup itself; it was about embodying confidence and joy, letting my inner light shine outward. The glow-up didn’t just change my appearance, it changed my energy, my outlook, and ultimately my life.
In Liz’s book and in her conversation with Ketut Liyer, he said, “You learn to smile even in your liver? This smile will make you beautiful woman. This will give you power to be very pretty. You can use this power: pretty power.”
I tried to find my journal from those days in 2010, hoping to revisit those raw memories, but it seems I never wrote much about that period. The truth is, I was in survival mode. Simply existing on my own for the first time in a decade was overwhelming. After ten years of being in a relationship and marriage, I had to learn how to live with myself. It was terrifying. I did eventually write about those times in one of my book chapters, Passport to Happiness, but the details, etched in my heart, remained scattered.
Fast forward to 2025, and I am living a very different life in Brisbane. I now have a new chapter filled with love, ease, and joy. And in this serendipitous moment, I found myself sitting in the grand Brisbane City Hall, waiting for Elizabeth Gilbert to walk on stage. The moment felt surreal, like a full-circle moment designed by fate itself.
Additional note. In 2019, I was inspired to reach out to Liz on Instagram after my meditation. I invited her to come to Jakarta, envisioning her speaking on a stage there. I saw her in my meditation, standing on stage. For years, I thought that vision was of Jakarta. But as fate would have it, that stage wasn’t in Jakarta, it was here in Brisbane. Life has a way of revealing its mysteries at just the right time.
When Liz appeared, her presence instantly filled the room with warmth and authenticity. She spoke of purpose, a word that has both haunted and inspired so many of us. The way she dismantled the overwhelming pressure of being “purpose-driven” brought a collective sigh of relief to the audience. She said something that struck a deep chord:
“Purpose-driven life has made us have purpose anxiety.”
We’ve all been there, frantically searching for that one divine purpose as if it’s a secret code we need to unlock to justify our existence. But Liz posed a radical alternative.
“What if we can just be present and curious, following the most interesting path?”
Then she shared a powerful story. One day, following the most interesting path, she came across a worker with a precariously wobbly ladder. Something inside her knew she had to help, and she stood there holding the ladder for 45 minutes. Suddenly, a revelation hit her:
“What if that’s the entire purpose of my life?”
Everyone gasped, myself included. We were all absorbing the gravity of that question. What if life isn’t about grand missions but about showing up in those small, essential moments? Liz reflected on how perhaps the universe had orchestrated her entire journey, her childhood, her fame, just so she could be in the right place at that exact moment to hold that ladder and possibly save someone’s life.
I couldn’t help but reflect on my own journey. What if, this is all FOR me? What if my divorce wasn’t a mistake? What if the business failures, the heartbreaks, and even that fleeting relationship in Bali that made me move from Jakarta, were all perfectly aligned path? What if every loss and detour was designed to lead me to this life, a life where I now wake up in a three-bedroom home in Australia with an incredible husband who loves and protects me, enjoying a clean blue sky and unmatched beautiful nature, feeling safe and taken care of by the government, doing what I love working in an AI company from home with financial flexibility, and the gift of deep, nurturing friendships? What if all of it was for me?
I felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Liz then spoke about the power of presence in creative living. She reminded us that the world craves to be seen, witnessed, and appreciated.
Kafka said, “Simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.”
She told us about an artist who spent years capturing images of women carrying things, a simple yet profound observation of life’s quiet beauty. It’s so easy to overlook the poetry in the everyday when we’re caught up in the endless chase for one single purpose.
This reminded me of my time in Bali, where I would walk along the beach after work, soaking in the sunsets. I miss those flânerie moments, wandering without an agenda, letting life unfold before me like a series of paintings. The French term flâneur perfectly captures this idea of strolling with curiosity. Charles Baudelaire described the flâneur as someone who becomes “one with the crowd,” finding immense joy in observing life’s fleeting moments.
I’ve come to realize that the mind often resists presence. It prefers to strategize and solve problems, always searching for the next obstacle. But Liz’s words reminded me to pause and come back to my body. When chaos arises, I now try to ask myself:
- What is the stressful belief I’m holding right now?
- Is it true?
- Can I absolutely know it’s true?
- How do I react when I believe that thought?
- Who would I be without that thought?
Living in the present doesn’t require grand gestures. It’s like the comforting softness of vanilla pudding, sweet and nourishing. It’s a state of well-being without craving or urgency. It’s a long, loving conversation with God.
I’m so grateful I made the decision to attend this 90-minute talk. The energy in the room, filled with women vibrating on the same frequency, was exhilarating. Liz’s storytelling reminded me of what I love most about creativity, the flow that emerges from deep stillness and observation.
I want to be that observer again. I want to capture life’s small miracles, to record what I witness. And this time, I’ll do it with a heart full of gratitude and presence.
Thank you, Liz. Thank you.
