Jasmin Morrell, Sacred Space Co-Coordinator, Talks About What Wild Goose Means to Her

In June of 2011, a few weeks before the inaugural Festival was slated to occur, a friend had turned her backyard into a watery playground of blow up pools, sprinklers, and a giant, inflatable water-slide for her daughter’s fourth birthday party. I slumped in my lawn chair, wilted by the humidity, envying the 20 or so splashing preschoolers who were so blissfully unaware of the heat. Glancing around the yard, I saw most of the parents in the same heat-defensive position that I was: shrouded in sunglasses and huddled under the available shade, sipping water reflexively and chatting wanly.

When my daughter Jubilee paused from her water mania to rummage through our beach bag for her towel, she accidentally pulled out some promotional postcards for the Goose that we just “happened” to have along with us (yes, even at a four-year-old’s birthday party, my husband, Mike, ever the social networker, saw an opportunity to promote the Festival). Jubilee, excited to share what Daddy had been working on, handed out postcards to her playmates’ parents, urging them to “come to the Wild Goose Festival!”

I don’t remember if Mike or I got a chance to meaningfully dialogue with any of the other adults about the Festival, but Jubilee’s eager anticipation for an event that she had no reference for stuck with me. Whether it was the excitement of getting to camp for the first time or imagining Shakori Hills filled with honking wild geese, I don’t know, but something was especially appealing to her. The great thing about kids is this: their excitement and wide-eyed wonder at the world is an infectious invitation to be just as full of wonder and curiosity yourself. So a couple of weeks later when the Festival rolled around, I had the great privilege of experiencing it through the eyes of Jubilee who, upon arrival to Shakori Hills, promptly decided to “run free” and couldn’t be caged until four days later we imprisoned her in the car to go back home.

And it was hard to avoid (as if I’d want to!) the sense that this place was a place where it was safe to be free—especially free of the fear that often keeps us from truly encountering one another. Did I hear some genuinely life-giving talks? Yes, I managed to make it to a few. Did I hear good bands? Sure, and I danced some too.  But what truly made the Festival for me? Standing with other parents in front of the “train car,” keeping an eye on our wild goslings while we shared the stirrings in our hearts.

Calls to enact more justice, the impulse to create beauty through art, and the active care and stewardship of creation were just some of the dreams and stories told to me by passionate women and men who I felt enriched by whether I spoke to them for only a few minutes or kept bumping into them over the course of our several days together. When surrounded by such a community of beautiful, compassionate souls, it is easier to believe that a difference can be, and is being made in this world. And that is something worth braving the humidity for, something precious and necessary and just like the water you’re dying for on a hot summer day.

Do you have a Wild Goose memory or experience to share? Would you like to submit an essay about what the Wild Goose means to you? We’d love to hear from you! Email sarah (at) wildgoosefestival (dot) org.