Here are some thoughts that, for me, frame the festival pretty well. Nothing necessarily deep or spiritual, that will come later. These are just things that stick out in my head.



Some skills, once learned, are never forgotten. Case in point: I’ve not toyed with Angel Sticks since my last year of college (spring of 1998). Picked up a set at the festival (borrowed, not bought), and it only took about 30 seconds to get back to the kinds of tricks I was doing 7 years ago. Mind you, that’s not saying much, but still…I was surprised, as was the owner of the sticks, who had some difficulty believing that it had been “a while.”



Some performers improve with age. I am quite confident now that Toby Mac eats energizer batteries for an evening snack, and I’m not sure Peter Furler of the Newsboys isn’t on the same diet plan. These guys are more animated every time I see them. Keep in mind that both are some years older than I am, and you have my age if you read the above. On the flip side, Michael W Smith seems to have forgotten his message entirely, and is pretty much a worship leader now. Much sadness, there.



Not words, not pictures, not poetry, and not song can describe the beauty of 100,000 candles lit on a hillside. “Breathtaking” sort of scratches the surface. For comparison, on a perfectly clear night, in otherwise perfect darkness, with no visible moon, a person with “normal” vision can see about 6,000 stars. I don’t know that I’ve ever had those conditions, and I’ve looked up at times and said to myself “wow,” since nothing really works. 6,000 stars in the entire sky. 100,000 candles on a hillside. It’s mind-boggling.



Free hugs are good. A free hug comes with no need for familiarity, it is not for sympathy, not for longing, not for desire; it has no wants, no needs, and no goals. It is a hug for a hug’s sake. That being said, the other kind is better.



The likelihood of a potentially self-fulfilling statement increases as the target audience increases. A performer said, whispering, into the microphone, “Those Creation people are the loudest Americans in America.” Personally, I no longer have a voice. I’m not 100% sure about ears, either. This shouldn’t surprise me, and frankly it doesn’t. Christian concertgoers tend to pride themselves on their ability to scream loudly, and there were more than that 100,000 figure listening at the time.



Music festivals use a lot of electricity. The wattage of the amps must be quite large. They are in banks of 6. I sort of got stuck in front of one bank during Superchick’s performance – I would be of suitable mind that that also contributed to any hearing issues I may have for the next month or so. When the grounds are empty, it’s possible to feel the bass from the PA system at the top of the hill. Lights are in a similar state of power-hungriness. One of the bands blew a transformer. Not the kind you’d find in, say, a surge protector, even a really good one. We’re talking a call-the-power-company-and-hope-they-get-here-in-a-right-hurry kind. Up on the pole, and needing a cherry picker. Blown. (It was replaced in a record 20 minutes, by the way.)



My campsite may actually have been in the next county from where the stage was. It certainly felt that way, and there was a tremendous lot of walking to get from one to the other. Bear in mind this walk also occurred for any of the store trips(fresh matches, etc), food vendors, seminars, and anything else that wasn’t immediately at the campsite. There were a lot of very cool bands, and much usage of Rock Concert Movement #3(the up-and-down jump.) There was a similar amount of rock concert movement #2(the one-fisted arm pump) and similar wavey types of things. My air mattress decided it didn’t want to hold air, so I slept on the ground all week. The very hard ground, that is. My back would tell anyone who asked it’s not very happy with me. My sunscreen ran out on Friday, and the festival went through midnight Saturday. So, in short, I’m sore, stiff, sun burnt, and speechless, and before anyone thinks I’m pontificating, I’ll gladly go on record as being not willing to trade for anything.