Liz’s portrait was at least 20 feet tall. 

The auditorium was buzzing, vibrant with the hum of hundreds of excited, imperceivable  conversations all around me. At the front of the stage was a giant picture of the author Liz Gilbert, author of a number of bestsellers, including “Eat, Pray, Love”, and “Big Magic”. She holds her face in her hands, a knowing and weary smile just touching her lips and eyes. It was the face of someone who had a secret, but held it in a way that conveyed both apprehension and excitement. 

In front of the giant portrait sat a massive audience. The theatre held nearly a thousand – a completely packed out show for this venue. Some members of the audience had young unblemished skin and tight curls. Others stood hunched, their faces marked by age spots, laugh and worry lines etched deep, and had brilliant silver hair that had long since transitioned. One mother brought her daughters, no more than ten years old. Many brought their moms. 

Notably, the audience was almost entirely women. As we walked towards our seats, I  

I estimated that there might be 10 to 20 men in the whole auditorium. I was struck by how unfamiliar that felt to me, how rare a thing to be in a space completely dominated by women. 

I laughed at the strangeness of it. This tour was based on “Big Magic” – a book about living a creative life with wholehearted courage. When the tour was announced, I was reading and enjoying that book, so my partner had purchased these tickets for me as a gift. But no one looking at this audience would ever believe that the evening was for me. I looked the part of an unfortunate and unsuspecting husband, dragged along on his wife’s insistence. The optics of it were immediately apparent to my wife, annoying her and giving me no small amount of amusement. 

My partner and I remained mostly silent as we took our seats, aware of the buzz of expectant excitement all around us. The space was pregnant with anticipation. But anticipation for what? We didn’t know exactly what this evening would be. The book “Big Magic” had been released years ago (in 2015), and Gilbert had written a handful of books since then that didn’t seem to be a part of this tour. Would she be reading to us from the stage? Was this even a book tour? 

We started the evening with so many unanswered questions. And Liz Gilbert’s 20 foot tall sly smile wasn’t giving out any answers. 

And then, with a brief introduction from her publisher, the real Liz Gilbert emerged. Dwarfed under the backdrop of gigantic portrait, Liz appeared positively pedestrian in her short cut hair, thick rimmed glasses and black pants. The audience erupted with applause, and then settled into attentive silence. 

And then the real Liz Gilbert spoke. 

For over an hour, she held our collective attention fast. There was no covert multitasking, no faces washed in cell phone glow checking time or notifications. Instead, there were bursts of laughter, there were murmurs of agreement, there were fingers slid across eyelids, wiping away the occasional tear. There were gasps of shock, the collective indrawings of breath, and the smiles of understanding and connection between complete strangers.

And then it was over. Leaving us grateful, contemplative, and a little confused. As we left that auditorium and walked along the busy sidewalks to our car, we wondered aloud what, exactly, we had just seen. 

I wouldn’t describe the event as a comedy show, despite some of those tears being those of laughter. It was not strictly a motivational speech, despite the fact that many of us came away profoundly moved, and motivated to approach our lives with renewed passion. I also wouldn’t call it promotion, despite the fact that I came away with even greater interest in Liz, and her writing projects.

At its core, the event was a surprisingly simple one. Years ago Liz had begun writing out advice and observations on how to live a creative life beyond fear, and was suddenly confronted with the realization that she had better practice what she was preaching (or “smoke what she was selling”, as she put it). Liz committed to follow her curiosity and creativity wherever it went, even (and especially) when it terrified her. 

It was a performance, certainly. There could be no doubt that the material of the evening had been meticulously practiced, curated and masterfully performed. Sitting down to listen to someone talk for a solid hour could either be a joy, or considered a form of torture. But care had been taken with this evening and these stories. The audience knew they were in good hands from the first moments. No joke felt canned, no story over dramatized, no life lesson fabricated. It was a practiced and performed testimony of authenticity and courage. 

Those two traits are actually inseparable. You cannot have one without the other. Those who aim to be brave and courageous without authenticity are really only posturing. Those who dare to be authentic, to be fully themselves, they require the courage to look both within and without with clear eyes. 

And the fact that it was practiced and performed did no disservice to the truths being told. If anything, it made our ears and hearts more receptive to them. We might think the courageous and authentic person is one with no filter, who immediately speaks their truth to any and all who will hear it. But we all know what it feels like to talk to someone like that (perhaps we have occasionally been someone like that). It feels like there is only one voice in the room. But that is a very selfish way to be authentic. Each interaction involves at least two people. Liz’s performance considered and cared for her audience. It also cared for her stories. Our stories and learnings are worth safeguarding and cherishing. We need to consider if, when, and how  we will share them with others. 

If we take the care that our stories and gained wisdom deserve, we will find that they are invaluable treasures. For ourselves chiefly, and occasionally for others. That evening wasn’t captivating because of Liz’s particular set of skills or status as an accomplished author. It was captivating because she was authentic and brave enough to gather those stories, and careful and considerate enough to share them with us thoughtfully.  

It was her humanity, rather than her celebrity, that called to each of us that evening. Our stories, gathered and shared with care will always be more enticing than our accomplishments. 

Liz Gilbert, the New York Times Bestseller and celebrated author who travels the country with 20 foot tall promotional portraits was pretty impressive. 

But Liz Gilbert, the creative, courageous and considerate human, was even more so.