Me, My Invisible Popemobile, and Wild Goose Festival

This post was written by Charlotte Donlon, writer and spiritual director. Learn more at charlottedonlon.com or spiritualdirectionforwriters.com.

I was invited to attend the Wild Goose Festival last year somewhat last minute. A writer friend whom I trust and respect invited me to co-facilitate two sessions on the intersection of art and faith after the person scheduled to lead them with her was unable to attend. I was honored to be asked and available to join her in this endeavor, so I said yes without diving into too many festival details. I wasn’t entirely sure what the festival was even about, but I was excited to collaborate with a writer friend and hang out with her in person and decided to figure the rest of it out along the way.

So, at first, my 2025 Wild Goose Festival experience was more about developing my friendship with this one person and the good things we were going to offer to whoever decided to show up to our two sessions. That was the narrative I created, and it was working for me.

Then, a week or so before the festival, she had some personal things come up that she needed to tend to that would prevent her from traveling to North Carolina for a long weekend, and I had to decide if I had it in me to be brave and do the whole thing by myself.

I said yes.

I believe God works in mysterious ways, and I felt a divine tug toward the festival, so I chose to be courageous. Even after I did more in depth research on their website, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was getting myself into. I usually don’t prefer to put myself in the way of large groups of Christians. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a Chrisitan. I like Christians. But because of my own personal spiritual trauma experiences and too many very good reasons to not trust Christians who seem to have good intentions and think their good intentions are sufficient to cover all kinds of wrongdoings, I am wary of Large Groups of Christians, and especially Large Groups of Christians Who Are Strangers. (I know I’m not the only one!)

Showing up to a festival with thousands of people who might have good intentions for exploring faith and creativity and justice but may, in fact, be dangerous and willing to harm you just feels scary. Unfortunately, from what I’ve seen in my own life and the lives of people I love, the welcoming and progressive Christians can be as dangerous as the unwelcoming and more fundamentalist version. It just looks different. And, unfortunately, there’s room for way more deceit and hypocrisy and betrayal because it’s easy to believe and trust people who appear to inhabit their faith in ways that are similar to how you inhabit your faith.

Am I over-generalizing? Probably. Do I have good reasons to be careful around Christians? Definitely.

Anyway. That gives you a sense of where I was coming from with this whole thing.

Along with my fear and doubt and the invisible protective shield I’d begun forming around me like my own version of the bulletproof cart the Pope used to drive around in (does the Pope still drive around in that little cart?), I was also looking forward to being there. I like to travel. I like to learn new things. I like to have meaningful encounters. As I mentioned earlier, I even like Christians. So, I was cautiously optimistic.

That’s a great descriptor, but let’s put “cautiously” in all caps. I was CAUTIOUSLY optimistic.

When I arrived at the festival in Harmony, North Carolina, a 15 minute or so drive from the hotel I had decided to stay in rather than camp out with a bunch of Christian strangers, I was pleased to discover how organized the parking and logistics were. From my first minutes on the property, the obvious care and thoughtfulness of the organizers was clear. What a relief. My one job for the day was to show up and lead a session, and I had allowed for extra time to navigate unforeseen roadblocks and detours that might appear for me to circumvent while my invisible bulletproof Popemobile and I figured out how to get to the appropriate tent for my first session.

What I noticed next was the kindness and joy exuding from every person I interacted with. They were so helpful.

• The woman who drove me in a (real, not invisible) golf cart to the festival grounds who pointed out the tent I’d need to be in for my session.
• The woman who sold me a not overpriced bottle of water.
• The man who told me where the closest restroom was.
• The person who helped me turn on the mic and gave a brief overview of what to expect because they could tell this was my first time.

They took a few extra minutes to be helpful even though my I-don’t-trust-you was probably showing more than I preferred, but sometimes that’s what happens when you have trauma that is mostly healed but still a little not healed and may never be fully healed.

My two sessions went better than I could have imagined. I walked into both tents carrying my invisible Popemobile and a very practiced poker face, and what I found were people who were genuinely hungry for a conversation about art and faith—not to perform their open-mindedness, but because they were carrying real questions that hadn’t found a safe container yet.

That felt good and familiar. Thank God.

What surprised me most was how much the festival felt like it had been designed for people who love the questions more than the answers. That’s a niche that’s not too common in most Christian or spiritual spaces. I’m used to being the odd one out in most groups—the person who asks too many inconvenient things, who doesn’t quite fit into any of the available boxes. But at Wild Goose, not fitting into the available boxes seemed to be something close to the whole point.

By the time I drove back to my hotel that first evening, I was still cautiously optimistic, but the cautiously felt smaller and the optimistic seemed larger than I’d started the day. I was cautiously OPTIMISTIC.

I didn’t leave the festival with my guard fully down forever-and-ever-amen, but I did leave with it shifted. Something stubborn in me had been softened, and I hadn’t exactly asked for that or seen it coming.

I may share more about my first Wild Goose experience one day soon, but what I want to be very clear about right now is that those who will have the privilege of being there (including me because I’ll return again this year to lead one session inspired by my forthcoming book, Spiritual Direction for Writers: Everyday Rituals for Your Writing Life, and co-lead another session with Hannah on our forthcoming anthology, Take More Retreats: A Guidebook for Writers, Journalers, and Creative Souls) will be surrounded by kind and creative souls who really are kind and generous and who genuinely care about art and creativity and faith and justice.

From Hannah: If these words from Charlotte are as inspiring, refreshing, and safe to you as they are to me, I would love for you to join us at Wild Goose this September. I’m teaching a session about journaling, learning how to be present in the moment. She and I are co-leading a session about retreating, which is both a spiritual practice and a creative practice. Learn more and register at Wild Goose Festival.

---

Charlotte Donlon is a writer, spiritual director, and gatherer whose work centers on helping people explore themes of belonging, artful encounters, and spiritual growth–even when life is full, busy, or chaotic.