Letters From Love with Elizabeth Gilbert

Letters From Love with Elizabeth Gilbert

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Letters From Love with Elizabeth Gilbert
Letters From Love with Elizabeth Gilbert
LETTERS FROM LOVE — With Special Guest Nicholas Kristof!

LETTERS FROM LOVE — With Special Guest Nicholas Kristof!

Risk it all for love . . . just not the way you used to

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Elizabeth Gilbert
Feb 23, 2025
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Letters From Love with Elizabeth Gilbert
Letters From Love with Elizabeth Gilbert
LETTERS FROM LOVE — With Special Guest Nicholas Kristof!
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Dear Lovelets —

We are coming up on the 20th anniversary of EAT PRAY LOVE next year. (I know, bananas — where does the time go, and what does time even mean? GAH!)

Looking back on the book from a distance of two decades (!) there is only one bit of the story that I would do differently, only one line of the book that causes my heart to break.

Toward the end of the Italy section, young Liz (who did not know, at age 34, that she was in fact young) is reflecting upon the adventures she has already experienced in Rome, and how much her time there has changed her. She has learned a new language, she has healed a broken heart, she has made new friends, she has found new depths of resourcefulness . . .

And then, in the midst of all that contentment and self-fulfillment, she says the weirdest thing. She says, “Eventually I may have to become a more solid citizen again, I’m aware of this. But not yet — please. Not just yet.”

What??

Why did she think that?

Why did she think she had to become a “solid citizen”?

What does that even mean?

And who was she talking to? Who was she begging to, when she said “But not yet — please”?

Oh, how I wish I could reach back through time and talk to that younger version of myself, and tell her that she’s got it all wrong. I wish I could tell her that the way she was living in that very moment (solitary, free, wandering, creative, curious, deeply inwardly connected) was and would always be the answer. I wish I could tell her that she had already found it — that she had already reached enlightenment. I wish I could tell her that THIS way of life, this stubborn freedom and independence and curiosity, was not only her true nature, it would also constitute her greatest offering to the world. I wish I could tell her that she didn’t owe it to anyone to be “a solid citizen.”

But instead, Younger Liz was already thinking about how she would eventually have to rein it in, zip herself up, and become normal and respectable once more.

Because she still thought that if she was normal and respectable, she would be loved, and she would be safe.

Eventually, at the end of that year of travel, she did zip it up and rein it back in. She — I — did become a solid citizen. And that is such a pity, friends. Because that is never what I was ever meant to be. But I didn’t have the courage back then to risk having people think poorly of me in order to be free. I was too afraid of what everyone would think. And so I became a wife again, and a stepmother, and a homeowner, and a volunteer in the community — and everything else that I had been taught constitutes “approvable.” Those years were not the worst, trust me. But they were not the best, either. Because I was very far from free. I was very far from a truthful expression of my own being.

This week, our special guest, the great Nicholas Kristof, wrote a letter from love that was all about the subjects of risk and safety. Which got me contemplating: what would the Spirit of Unconditional Love (SOUL) have each and every one of us know about what it means to take risks, and what it means to pursue safety?

I was, as always, surprised by the reply I received. And I can’t wait to hear what love has to say to you!

Onward,
Your Lizzy

Dear Love, what would you have me know about risk and safety?

Precious heart, we want you to know that you are a precious heart — and that you have a precious heart. And everything precious is worth trying to protect, and everything precious is also worth risking your life for.

I know, a paradox! Let us explain.

In order to steward your heart through this extraordinary journey of life, you must treasure and experience both risk and safety. And part of the maturing process is to recognize which state of being is called for at any given moment.

Is this a time to take a risk? Or is this a time to play it safe?

Let me explain to you one of the major differences between youth and middle age — at least for you. In youth, you risked everything you should have kept safe, and you safeguarded everything you should have risked.

The biggest risks you took were when you threw yourself at one man after another, in a never-ending attempt to find love. The encounters that you pushed yourself into were unprotected in every single definition of the word. Child, you gave yourself away, time and again — mind, body, soul, spirit. You risked your literal life for these men, exposing yourself to the risks of pregnancy, STDs, abandonment, betrayal, shame, codependency, grief, financial ruin, interruption to your own creative and spiritual processes, and most of all the constant risk of emptying yourself out completely for someone else once again. And for what?

For the hope of true love, every time.

And what did true love mean to you? SAFETY.

That’s what you thought true love would bring: safety.

And so you risked yourself again and again, for safety.

Ironic, right?

Supremely, heartbreakingly ironic.

Do you remember (I know you do) when the best friend of the man you ended up marrying took time from a busy day at work to come downtown and have lunch with you when you were 24 years old, because there was something direly important she needed to tell you? And looked you in the eye and said, “I love him, and he’s my best friend, but I need you to understand that this man is absolutely incapable of a mature and faithful relationship” — and you laughed it off.

“I’m a risk taker,” you said, proudly. And you went right ahead.

Which is the same thing you said the next time you dove into someone, and the next time, and the next time, and the next time . . .

Honey, that isn’t what it means to be a risk taker — at least not a noble or brave risk taker. To ignore a warning like that is to ignore a warning from the universe. To ignore a warning like that is like getting into a car that someone has told you on good authority has no brakes and no steering wheel, and brushing away the warning like, “Hey, I like a bit of excitement!” That is not a worthy risk. That is voluntary self-annihilation.

But not knowing anything about the preciousness of your heart, what more could you do but self-annihilate?

On the other hand, during those same years when you were exposing yourself to such reckless danger, you were overly careful in places where we really needed you to take some worthy risks. Most of all, dear one, you were SO CAREFUL with your family — incredibly careful to make sure you never did or said anything that would upset anyone, or cause you to lose favor, or jeopardize what you then called safety and security.

In that realm, honeyhead, it might have been a good idea for you to have taken some bigger risks earlier on. Telling the truth more often would have been a brave and worthy risk, or setting boundaries, or daring more courageously to lead a life with different values and priorities than the values and priorities which you had been taught. But you wanted to appear respectable and acceptable and agreeable — especially to your family and your community of origin. Again, because that felt like safety to you. Yet it is only in walking away from the need to be respectable and acceptable and agreeable that you shall find freedom — and only in that freedom will you know safety.

The good news is, you have woken up. And you will keep waking up.

And now we need you to keep taking risks — but worthy ones, only.

Across every single relationship in your life, we need you to dare to not be as loved, dare to not be as approved of, dare to not try to keep yourself so “safe” through endless acts of conformity, acquiescence, obedience, and self-sacrifice.

We’ve seen the creative risks you’ve taken, and the risks you’ve taken as an explorer — but angel, that stuff is EASY for you. For someone of your temperament (a super-sensitive Cancerian who is also an Enneagram 2 wing 3, who loves nothing more than to receive affection and affirmation, and who believes the only way to receive that is to be PLEASING) true risk means daring to not be loved.

Here is what we want for you — and you’ve been doing it, but we want you to go even deeper and harder in this direction. We want you to keep risking disapproval by saying the word no. We want you to keep risking disapproval by letting people be disappointed in you or angry with you, and observing that (miracle of miracles!) they can survive their disappointment, and so can you. We want you to risk disapproval by continuing to defend your time alone, by continuing to create spaces that are sacred for yourself, by not giving everybody everything they want just because they want it, and by not doing things the way they have always been done just because that’s the way they have always been done. Most of all by fostering this deep, powerful connection, this voice of love, rather than chasing and protecting the outer voices of love.

Stop trying to make anyone understand you, stop trying to make anyone believe you, stop trying to make anyone protect you or love you.

We need you to understand once and for all that they (whoever that “they” may be on any given day) are not your source of security.

We are your safety, my love. We are. These voices that only you can hear, and which you can only receive in silence and in solitude. This destiny that is not for anyone else to judge or even comprehend. Risk everything and everyone for THAT. Risk everything for love — true love — just not the way you used to. Risk non-compliance. Risk mysticism. Risk everything you were ever taught was normal or important, in order to connect more deeply with yourself and us. Trust us. Trust us. Trust us.

You are here for the ultimate liberation of your body, mind, and spirit. Risk it. Go for it.

That’s what we’re talking about.

We love you.

Prompt

Though humankind has evolved on the whole to choose self-preservation and protection, the concept of safety is a tricky one. Below, Nicholas Kristof contemplates the literal, physical dangers he’s endured throughout a remarkable career, though I define safety more as a place of emotional and spiritual calm. What does safety mean to you? Would you like to find out? Join me this week in posing this question: Dear Love, what would you have me know about risk and safety?

UK friends! A note about ALL THE WAY TO THE RIVER, my upcoming book — Waterstones is having a huge pre-order sale through Monday, so if you’d like 25% off your copy you can use code PREORDER25 HERE! (And non-UK friends, wherever you may be, you can find a bunch of different ways to pre-order the book at my website.) Thank you!

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