Squaw Valley felt different. Gone was its usual competitive edge. The air of superiority – played out in faster runs, the newest equipment and après ski condominiums – was replaced with a spirit of oneness, wellness and joy. The valley’s magnificent natural beauty provided an unmatched venue for the Wanderlust festival. And the festival did wonders raising the vibration of the valley.
Music, yoga and nature. What a spiritual combination. This festival, founded on forward thinking and ancient connective principles, provided something for everyone. You didn’t have to stretch your body into challenging asanas (yoga poses) to open your heart, and you didn’t have to understand the phenomenon of Greg Gillis’ mashing to feel the energy of both the moment and memories the slices of music provided. All you had to do was be there.
On Friday evening, after a day of yoga, Jai Uttal, rockstar of Kirtan, led hundreds of yogis and yoginis in chanting while the sun colored the mountains a golden rose. Drummers brought the chanters to their feet and led seamlessly into Shiva Rea’s Yoga Trance Dance where each experienced the music in their bodies and moved in collective spirit. MC Yogi summoned the hip hop elephant, Ganesh, into the groove under the sparkling big dipper. There was a general enchantment induced by the stars. Let us who live in Tahoe never forget how blessed we are to be able to witness the wonder of the Milky Way. As I danced, heart open to the sky, I knew the enormity of the Universe.
There was a surreal, timeless quality to the weekend. It was the ‘60s with hindsight: more conscious, healthy, purposeful.
Greener volunteers manned recycling and garbage centers. It was ‘Hair’ meets ‘Lost Horizon.’ Skinny dippers dove into the alpine lake behind the Gold Coast stage. Hula-hoopers gyrated at the edge of the crowd and the ever-present scent of cannabis mingled with the aroma of wildflowers. At one point, I could have sworn I was looking into the future. A fire dancer, during a driving song by The Mutaytor, reminded me of scenes from the film ‘Bladerunner,’ and immediately after his act, a woman came on stage to dance with an eerily-lit baton, which floated inches from her hands, seemingly directed by magic.
Where are we going with music, dance, entertainment and spirit? In spirals, apparently, because Hindu chants are easily interwoven with rap music, and Victorian corsets are a lovely juxtaposition to a Kurzweil keyboard. Chopin, Brahma and Converse high-tops play very well together when they are given the space to do so.
Wanderlust was a spiritual playground. What could be more fun and spiritual than getting in touch with that inner child, the un-fettered soul, in creative play? Inside the Geodome, a shade structure which provided a restful escape from the sun, people could participate in a community art project and draw on the furniture, dress up, pretending they were a rock star and mug for the camera, sit for some instant poetry, watch independent videos and create (free) silk screened tee-shirts. Down at the bottom of the funitel, the Play Lounge was set up with Hoop dancing, and a jungle gym made out of silk scarves was available for the climbing. There were bubbles, beach balls, Frisbees, and Flowlights. People played bongos and djembes, didgeridoos and voices raised in song and laughter. Of course Squaw Valley is a natural playground in itself, providing trails for hiking and biking and refreshing ponds for swimming. Even the fashions were playful – yoga pants with ruffles and cowboy boots, sundresses with fedoras.
Two things summed it up for me. The news of Michael Franti’s sudden cancellation (due to appendicitis) spread like ‘Yellfire’ across the valley, but I never heard a complaint. Of course people were disappointed he wasn’t going to perform, but the overwhelming response was a call for prayers for his wellbeing. Maybe he wasn’t there in person, but he drew many to Wanderlust, uniting us in spirit. Then on Saturday night, Buck from The Mutaytors announced to the crowd that Wanderlust was the coolest music festival he’d ever been to. He hadn’t ‘encountered a single douche bag,’ as he so eloquently put it. Me neither. Even the guy who stepped on my foot turned around and gave me a big hug.
My weekend at Wanderlust was an experience of flow, levity, synchronicity, abundance and joy. It was Burning Man without dust storms, a yoga retreat without solemnity and Squaw without the attitude.
