As we step into the first days of 2025, I find myself reflecting on how profoundly the past few years have shaped me—all thanks to music festivals! It all began with Okeechobee 2022, my first music and arts festival—a leap into a portal that has enriched my life in ways I could never have imagined. Writing this feels like a way to process the immense gratitude and joy these experiences have brought me, both in the vibrant moments of the festivals themselves and in the quiet reflections that follow. This piece draws from the magic of the many festivals I’ve been fortunate enough to attend, weaving together the lessons, connections, and unforgettable memories that continue to shape me.
As I look back, one of the most striking aspects of these festivals is the incredible variety of experiences they offer. I’ve danced my way through both city and camping festivals, each with its own distinct rhythm and magic. City festivals pulse with vibrant energy, set against the backdrop of urban landscapes that transform into buzzing hubs of music, art, and culture. The convenience of nearby accommodations and the excitement of exploring new surroundings add a dynamic layer to the experience. Camping festivals, on the other hand, provide a completely different kind of immersion. Picture vast open skies, the earthy scent of grass beneath your feet, and the hum of anticipation as you set up your temporary home in nature. There’s something grounding about waking to the sounds of the world stirring around you, sharing stories and laughter in makeshift campsite “living rooms,” and dancing freely under a canopy of stars.
Both types of festivals have left an indelible mark on me, offering contrasting yet equally transformative experiences. This reflection will draw from the magic of both worlds—the electric pulse of the city and the calming embrace of nature.
So, without further ado, here’s my personal take on the magic, the meaning, and the memories that make up the heart of music and arts festivals. For me, festivals are more than just events—they are transformative experiences that tap into the core of what it means to be alive.
At their essence, festivals have taught me to:
- Appreciate, share, and experience art in its most vibrant forms.
- Be present, fully immersed in the moment.
- Embrace gratitude for the beauty and connection that surrounds me.
- Recognize play as a vital and often overlooked part of the human experience.
- Connect with a sense of community that feels rare and profound in today’s world.
- Show up as my most authentic, unfiltered self.
Each of these themes has shaped my festival experiences, and in this reflection, I’ll share the ways they’ve touched and enriched my life.
Festivals allow me to appreciate, share, and experience art in its most vivid and expressive forms.
Of course, there’s music—lots of it. But the magic extends far beyond the soundwaves that fill the air. Festivals remind me that art is a profound expression of emotion, brought to life through countless mediums—static, dynamic, kinetic, and more! When you’re at a music festival, you’re completely immersed in a kaleidoscope of creativity. At any given set, you’re surrounded by people dancing with uninhibited joy, often accompanied by mesmerizing flow arts. Everywhere you look, there are vibrant, colorful outfits that defy the norms of everyday life, adding yet another layer to the artistic tapestry.
As you wander back to your campsite, the creativity continues to unfold. Campsites transform into little worlds of their own, adorned with inventive decorations that reflect the personality of their creators. Strangers pass by, handing out personal art in the form of stickers, jewelry, and other handmade trinkets. Mini DJ stations pop up like spontaneous celebrations, where people share their original music with friends and neighbors. Even the vendors are part of the experience, offering unique, handcrafted products you won’t find anywhere else.
A music festival is a sanctuary where art isn’t just observed—it’s lived and shared. It becomes a multisensory experience, something you can see, hear, touch, and feel! It’s a form of expression that transcends barriers, connecting you with others on physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, and energetic levels. In this space, you can fully appreciate, share, and experience art in all its wonderful glory.
Festivals allow me to be present.
In the whirlwind of our busy day-to-day lives, it’s all too easy to get stuck in our heads, consumed by endless to-do lists, must-reads, must-watches, and must-dos. We’re constantly planning, strategizing, and worrying about the future. Don’t get me wrong—planning has its place. But when your thoughts are always fixed on what’s next, you risk losing touch with the now. Life can quickly become a blur, with your mind running on autopilot, leaving the beauty of the present moment unnoticed.
I’ll admit, in my early and mid-20s, the future felt like the place where all the great things would happen. Who could blame me? Throughout high school and college (which were quite a while ago, I must admit), the emphasis was always on the future, often hearing the phrases:
“Think about the future!”
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“How much is in your retirement fund?”
“Are you saving for a house?”
“When are you getting married?”
AHHHHHHHHHH!
It was overwhelming, and unlearning that mindset wasn’t easy.
Yes, having goals for the future is important, but if that’s all you think about, you’re throwing away the most valuable experience—the present. You can absolutely be present while working on your goals. The thing is, we never know when it’s our last day, or when it’s someone else’s. Festivals have taught me to balance planning for the future with staying grounded in the here and now. After all, no matter how carefully we plan, we don’t control the future.
At a festival, the only future I had to think about was when and where the next set I wanted to see was happening. And just like in life, even meticulous planning doesn’t always work out—things beyond your control will happen. But that’s the beauty of it: festivals teach you to adapt, to go with the flow, and to embrace simply being. The only future I had to think about was one that existed on the immediate horizon of the present. It made me realize that the future is not some distant, abstract place to chase; it’s merely an extension of the now.
Okeechobee’s motto, “Be Here Now,” resonated deeply with me the moment I first saw it—and still does today. It’s a mantra I carry with me, a reminder to embrace the present while navigating life’s uncertainties. Although there wasn’t an Okee this year (if I recall correctly, maybe it’ll return in 2026?! Fingers crossed!), those words remain a touchstone. You can do both: be here now and still make time to plan for the future. But it’s equally important to accept that the future you plan for may not unfold the way you envision—and when that happens, you’ll still need to be here now anyway!
Festivals allow me to be grateful.
Outdoor camping in the heat has a way of putting life’s conveniences into perspective, revealing the incredible advancements humans have made to improve our quality of living. When you’re out there braving the elements, you start to appreciate the everyday comforts we often take for granted. From the sturdy structures that shield us from harsh weather to the bliss of a temperature-regulated environment, camping at Bonnaroo has given me a profound appreciation for these modern luxuries.
Imagine a long, exhilirating day of dancing and exploring, you crawl into your tent, feeling the warmth of the earth beneath you and the cool night around you. In that quiet moment, it hits you—how remarkable it is that we’ve created systems to make life not just survivable but comfortable. Running water, flushable toilets, gas and electric stoves, reliable transportation—all these conveniences become sharply focused blessings under the open sky.
Every sip of clean water feels like a gift, every meal cooked on a camp stove a small miracle. Sitting in the makeshift living room of our campsite, recounting the magic of the last set with friends, even the simple act of finding shade on a scorching afternoon or feeling the cool breeze at night becomes a moment of gratitude. These fleeting experiences soon transform into core memories, underscoring how much there is to appreciate in life’s small joys.
But it’s not just about the physical comforts. Festivals magnify the emotional and communal aspects of gratitude. Shared smiles with strangers, spontaneous acts of kindness, and the collective energy of thousands coming together for the love of music and art weave a tapestry of thankfulness. You find yourself grateful for the community, for the connections, and for the ephemeral moments that make life rich and meaningful.
This sense of gratitude doesn’t stay confined to the festival grounds—it seeps into your everyday life. It’s a humbling reminder to recognize and appreciate the abundance we already have. While striving for more is a natural part of being human, festivals remind us to pause and celebrate the present, embracing all the ways life has already gifted us comfort, connection, and joy.
Being at a festival helps me embrace gratitude not just for the grand achievements of humanity, but for the small, often overlooked comforts that make life easier and more joyful. It’s a celebration of what we have, a recognition of the journey that brought us here, and a powerful reminder to cherish each moment with a heart full of thanks.
Festivals allow me to recognize play as an important aspect of the human experience.
As I mentioned earlier, camping festivals expose you to the raw beauty and brutal reality of nature. It’s a reminder of how far humanity has come in creating the luxuries we often take for granted. I no longer think twice about where my water comes from or the heat outside as I sit in the comfort of my temperature-controlled home. The ease of having food delivered and the convenience of flushable toilets are everyday comforts I’ve learned to deeply appreciate.
Yet, while our modern society has given us remarkable conveniences, it often does so at the cost of our humanity. Driven by capitalism and competition, we’ve been conditioned to tie every activity to a tangible outcome—constantly looking ahead to what we can achieve next. In this system, being “productive” takes precedence, pulling us out of the present and eroding our connection to the simple joys of existence. We’ve become so immersed in this imagined reality of endless striving that we forget the objective truth: play is not a luxury—it’s an essential part of the human experience.
I’ll never forget seeing the parachute people at a festival, tears welling up in my eyes as the speaker reminded us to never forget to play, to never lose touch with our inner child. Festivals have a way of stripping back the layers of societal conditioning and returning us to our most authentic selves. In a world that pushes us to be “productive members of society” at all costs, the joy of play is often dismissed as frivolous. But festivals challenge this notion, creating a space where play is not only encouraged but celebrated—a stark contrast to the grind of daily life.
Whether it’s the spontaneous joy of dancing, participating in creative workshops, or simply laughing with friends, festivals remind us of the pure delight of being alive. In those moments of play, you reconnect with a part of yourself that is so often buried under the weight of expectations. You remember that life isn’t just about achieving or accumulating—it’s about experiencing curiosity, creativity, and wonder. Festivals provide a refuge from the pressures of productivity, giving you permission to fully embrace the unfiltered joy of existence.
This rediscovered sense of play doesn’t stay confined to the festival grounds. It becomes a guiding principle—a reminder to find joy in small, everyday moments, to nurture curiosity, and to stay present. Because, in the end, play is not an indulgence or a distraction; it’s a fundamental part of what it means to be human.
Festivals allow me to experience community in a way that our current society doesn’t easily enable.
Every day at a festival, we gather in the common area—not for any specific reason, but simply to enjoy each other’s company. We reminisce about the shows from the night before, share our excitement for what’s ahead, and indulge in the kind of laughter that only comes from being completely at ease with one another. These are moments of pure connection, free from the distractions of the outside world.
In this shared space, we braid each other’s hair, swap stories and jokes, and help each other with everyday tasks. Whether it’s fetching water, cooking meals, cleaning up, or gathering ice for the cooler, there’s a palpable sense of community. It’s a collective effort, a beautiful dance of cooperation and care, where the intention is to support the group beyond oneself.
This sense of togetherness stands in stark contrast to our everyday lives, where individualism often overshadows the collective spirit. In our daily routines, we’re so focused on personal goals and responsibilities that we rarely experience the profound connection that comes from working and living together with a shared purpose.
At festivals, the barriers that typically separate us—strangers, acquaintances, colleagues—seem to dissolve. Strangers become friends, and friends become family. There’s a deep sense of belonging and unity, where everyone is welcomed and valued just as they are. Shared experiences, whether it’s dancing to a favorite band or helping each other with campsite chores, foster an authenticity and connection that’s often missing in our fast-paced, goal-driven society.
Festivals create a microcosm of what a supportive, inclusive community can look like. Through acts of kindness, shared responsibilities, and collective joy, we’re reminded of the importance of mutual aid and collaboration. They teach us that we thrive not in isolation, but in togetherness—a truth that feels especially profound when surrounded by people who genuinely care about one another.
And these lessons don’t have to stay at the festival. Festivals remind us that we can create this sense of community in our everyday lives. By valuing connection over competition and cooperation over individual achievement, we can build spaces where everyone feels supported and included. Festivals show us a glimpse of what’s possible: a world where community and connection are at the heart of our human experience.
Festivals allow me to be my 100% authentic self.
I think I can speak for everyone when I say we all wear masks. In many ways, we have to—navigating the demands of daily life, balancing work and professional responsibilities with personal moments where we feel free to let our guard down. It’s a delicate dance, isn’t it? Even in the company of friends, that mask can be difficult to fully remove. Genuine friendships create space for us to be truly ourselves, but at festivals, this authenticity isn’t just allowed—it flourishes.
It’s almost paradoxical, isn’t it?! To feel more yourself among a crowd of strangers than you might in your everyday life… Yet, the collective celebration of uniqueness, comfort, and good vibes creates an environment where you feel safe to be wholly and unapologetically you. Festivals strip away societal expectations, replacing them with an unspoken agreement: you are free to be yourself here.
I’ve attended festivals during both the highs and lows of my life. Sometimes, I arrived feeling like everything was perfect; other times, I felt like my world was crumbling. In both extremes, my authentic self—ever-changing and evolving with my circumstances—found refuge. Festivals have given me the space to express my happiness in its purest form and, equally, to honor my sadness without fear or judgment.
There’s a saying: “You can dance in the rain or sulk in the rain; it will rain regardless.” Festivals have taught me to dance in the rain, both literally and figuratively. Even when life feels overwhelming, the festival environment encourages you to keep moving, keep dancing, and stay present. It’s a reminder that it’s okay to feel sadness and joy simultaneously, that it’s okay to continue dancing while you’re healing.
One of my favorite sayings is, “The greatest privilege in this lifetime is to be completely yourself.” At festivals, this privilege feels like a birthright. They give you the freedom to strip away the layers society has placed on you and embrace the truest version of yourself. Here, your authenticity is not just accepted—it’s celebrated! It’s a rare and beautiful gift, one that festivals generously offer without condition.
In the end, festivals remind us of the joy and liberation that comes with being authentic. They teach us that the masks we wear in daily life are not always necessary, that we can step into our true selves and live without pretense. They challenge us to carry this authenticity into the world beyond the festival grounds, embracing who we are and inspiring others to do the same.
In Summary…
Reflecting on my experiences at music festivals has illuminated the profound impact these events have had on my life. Festivals allow me to immerse myself in art in its most vibrant forms, live fully in the present moment, cultivate gratitude, embrace the joy of play, experience a true sense of community, and be my 100% authentic self.
To me, music festivals are more than just events; they are sanctuaries for the soul. They remind me of the beauty of being present, the delight of play, the strength of community, and the liberation of authenticity. They teach us to cherish each moment, embrace our truest selves, and connect with others on a deeper level. Whether you find this magic at a festival or elsewhere, may you always carry the spirit of these experiences with you, dancing through life with a heart full of gratitude and a soul that is free.
For those who have yet to attend a music festival, I encourage you to find one that resonates with your vibe and make plans to go. Beyond festivals, though, this reflection has made me wonder: what other activities make you feel truly alive, connected, and authentically yourself?
To my fellow festival-goers, do festivals provide you with these transformative experiences? How do they shape your everyday life? I’d love to hear your stories and reflections—what makes you feel alive?
With lots of love & light,
Liezl