Fran and I are back home after four days in North Carolina, attending the Wild Goose Festival. It was her fifth, and my sixth, time at this annual event that brings together people dedicated to creativity, spirituality, and justice. It’s not a large festival — I believe this year’s attendance was somewhere in the 2,000 range — but it’s a powerful and dizzying alchemy where musicians, artists, writers, activists, contemplatives and seekers join together to enjoy each other’s work, to inspire and challenge each other’s practice, and to celebrate how community and passion can help to keep hope alive even in challenging times.
The Goose is a great place to meet your heroes (or even just writers, artists and musicians you admire). Over the years; it is in this venue where I have met, and/or meaningfully interacted with, quite a number of visionaries whom I admire, including Brian McLaren, Richard Rohr, Jim Wallis, Richard Twiss, Mirabai Starr, Simone Campbell, Lerita Coleman Brown, Brandan Robertson, Tessa Bielecki, Hunt Priest, Otis Moss III, and many others. Some of these folks are no longer alive, making the chance to connect with them at this festival all the sweeter. This year I was able to add Rob Zahn, Jon Carl Lewis, Kristen Kobes Du Mez, and Roberto Che Espinoza to the list. At one of my workshops, author Roger Wolsey was present; when he made a reference to one of his books, someone sitting two rows behind him got excited, as she was just reading (and loving) the book. That’s the magic of the Wild Goose Festival: you might be sitting unaware right next to one of your favorite authors, or musicians, or artists.
But these days, I’m noticing that for me the real magic of the Wild Goose Festival is found in the most ordinary conversations with the most ordinary of people. Yes, it’s amazing to meet someone whose book or song has inspired me. But often I find that when I talk to persons who aren’t there to promote their latest release, but simply want to be part of the conversation, they often say something that opens my heart or my mind to truly new ways of thinking and being.
This year, I had a busy schedule: my colleague Debonee Morgan and I led a day-long workshop based on our Radical Mystics concept; I led several workshops of my own, on topics such as the spirituality of naming and the spirituality of self-care; I did the obligatory book signing, and was scheduled to participate in another panel and do a stint of spiritual direction that unfortunately got derailed by a powerful thunderstorm. When I wasn’t dashing off to whatever was next on my schedule, I tried to spend time at the tent housing Ligare, the Christianity & Psychedelics organization I have been involved in for the past three years. Fran, meanwhile, had her own agenda, hanging out with energy healers and artists and generally just having fun being creative (although she also gave back to the community by doing some spiritual direction).
On Wednesday night, before the festival began (with the day-long workshop I mentioned), Fran and I had dinner with an editor whom I’ve worked with before. Saturday evening we met some friends who have been active with the Theosophical Society in America for another meal. Events like these were very much the highlight of the event, for it is in such intimate settings that the best conversations take place. The editor and I spoke at length about the book proposal I’m working on, which was generous of them since I’m contractually obligated to a different publisher! But it gave me not only some great ideas to ponder, but also a bit of fire to finally get this proposal finished. Meanwhile, my Theosophical friends and I pondered the difference between religious exclusivism, inclusivism, and pluralism, and how an appreciation of spiritual diversity just might help to make the world a better place.
If I’m making the Wild Goose Festival sound like a little bit of heaven on earth, well, it certainly is a special event; but like anything else in life, it’s not perfect. This year, however, the biggest drawback was something no one had any control over: the weather. The first couple of days, this outdoor event was beset by sweltering heat and humidity, with temperatures in the mid-90s for much of the day. Usually by noon it seemed that most of us there were hot sweaty messes! But since it affected everyone, it seemed that we were all just a bit kinder to each other as we tried to stay cool and hydrated.
But on Saturday afternoon the weather changed dramatically and a severe thunderstorm rolled in. For a camping festival where everything was taking place in tents, even a mild rain can be inconvenient (although the drop in the temperature was certainly welcomed). But this storm was no gentle shower — strong gusty winds accompanied pelting heavy rain and even hail, as the storm uprooted tents and trees, demolishing at least one car and causing some considerable property damage. Thankfully, no one was reported as being hurt, but the storm interrupted several hours of programming and proved to be a humble reminder that we just aren’t as in control of things as we like to think we are.
One of the most precious moments of the weekend came when a participant in my spirituality of self-care workshop shared a story with me about a colleague of his — an eighty-something activist nun, who loves my writing. Last year, after she received one of my books as a gift, the nun asked a young person she knew to help her set up an account with Amazon so she could order a copy of The New Big Book of Christian Mysticism for herself. She had never seen any reason to shop online before, but was willing to go the extra mile to get that particular book. The person telling me the story then asked to take a photo of me that he could share with the nun; he suggested that I pose waving like I was sending her a hello, but I thought it might be more meaningful if I held my hands together in blessing. That worked for him, and the result is now the featured image at the top of this post. The picture was taken at about 6 PM, and my scraggly hair certainly looks like it had been subjected to hours and hours of humidity!
I promised that this post would describe “What I brought home from the Wild Goose Festival.” There’s no huge reveal here, but in addition to all I’ve already mentioned, I could say I brought home hope: hope that community really can bring healing and work toward fostering a more kind and just world. I also brought home inspiration, from the energizing conversation I had with the editor to the hope that so many of the activists and visionaries I met shared with me. I got plenty of affirmation as well: not only were people (many of whom have known me for years) willing to address me as Skye, but they made it clear that an older contemplative introvert like myself still belongs in a community of creative folks who are working to make the world a better place. Finally, I would say that the Goose offered me a chance to consider how contemplation and action support each other in the real lives of ordinary people. From transgender activists to social workers, therapists to ministers, retirees to physicians, it seemed that just about everyone I spoke to was engaged in the vital but not always easy work of integrating deep contemplative practice with engaged efforts to serve and care for others. This both affirmed my conviction that contemplative practice is truly revolutionary, but also helped to remind me that even my humble work as a writer and teacher can be of service to others.
So there you go. If you’ve been to the Wild Goose Festival, you know how magical an event it is; and if you’ve never been, stay tuned: I hope and intend to be at the 2027 festival this time next year; perhaps I will see you there.
It was great seeing you this year Skye, and I loved the Radical Mystics workshop. Can't wait for next year!
If you don’t belong in a community with creative artists who are making the world a better place, then nobody does. I’m glad you had such a good time. Thank you for the life hope and enthusiasm that you exude and the inspiration you offer to all of us !!!