CONFEST Part One

I write this through a longing of heart and connection now relinquished. A separation from conscious interaction in an environment that feels like home. Thousands of humans, living in freedom, making examples of a better world.

I met a dear friend, Bonnie, at a café in Mullumbimby, many months prior. She encouraged me to attend Confest after I mentioned my destination of travel. She suggested I help her set up The Travelling Vulva Tent which would get me into the festival a day earlier than it officially began. I said yes, this one word preceded an unfolding of experience that would once again cultivate a major life change.

The land was dry. No rain had fallen for some time. An absence of the colour green, replaced by tough and unyielding dry dusty shrubs. My van turned off the undulating black-top and pulled a cloud of dust down a long and yellow track. Excitement drew my inner child upward, and we both gazed out the window with glee. Passed gates, wristband attached to arm, fingers pointed, and I moved onwards toward a vast field.

The next gate and I was shown where I would sit the van for the next week. I drove slowly, wondering where to park, when my heart told me in an urgent voice, pull up next to that van!’ I listened.

I felt a little awkward parking so close to another while there was so much space. I got out anyway and met Rowdy.

She sat in the open sliding door of her van and smiled at me. I felt an instant recognition as we initiated contact and conversation for the first time in this lifetime. We became friends very quickly and I felt safe and expressive in her presence.

I had no idea where I was to be helping set up Bonnie’s workshop space and her messages told me that she had yet to arrive, so Rowdy and I sat atop the van gazing at the slow trickle of Confest volunteers entering beneath the golden sun.

Bonnie and her driver pulled up next to the van, we said our hello’s, I hopped on my bike, and followed them to the entrance of the arts village space.

The Confest site was vast, from where I was parked it takes ten minutes to walk to the edge of the forest, and another ten minutes to reach the curving river’s edge. Through the forest and along the banks were dozens of workshop spaces, a beach, mud pit, bush steam room. Walking from the beach I could follow the river around for about thirty minutes and eventually find my way back to the van, passing countless mini communities, collectives, art spaces, and tents.

There is a lot about Confest that may be confronting for those not already exposed to hippy culture. Nudity is one of these things. It is important to note that in a consciously held and responsible space where people can be anything or anyone they want to be, all our playful fantasies come out, we experience freedom and acceptance to play sans the leash of conditioned culture.

So sure, we can play to our fullest and healthiest in this space. What if we want to involve another? When there is attraction, and the safety to express that attraction, there must be respect for that divine piece of ass you see across the dance floor. This is where consent happens, and was a main theme of Confest.

Consent is a container. Conversation is defining the boundaries of said container. In this space, the expression of needs and desires are encouraged. Yet, looking at Western culture, I see a fear of this expression, leading to repression, leading to shadow and hiding, leading to unhealthy behaviour, and suffering.

I forgot the other ‘C’ word. Courage. Speak the truth, even if your voice shakes. These critical conversations manifest into healthy and loving relationships. We must learn to compassionately speak our needs, our hurts, and our desires. Most importantly, we need to learn to listen.

The site for the Travelling Vulva Tent was yet to be determined, so no work could be done until the morning. I returned to the van and hung out with Rowdy for dinner. She would be working in the Chai space for the whole festival, making money to fuel the next leg of her journey.

Thursday. The day of arrival. The once barren field was filling up with vans and tents. The road in a bustle of ant-like activity as people walked with trolleys or caught the shuttle bus making the rounds. I went in search of Bonnie to fulfil my duties.

The forest near the river was a maze to me. I had a rough idea where Bonnie’s tent was, but could not find it among the trees. I wandered around and around, asked people where the Vulva Tent would be, received general direction, fingers pointed, still nothing, getting warmer, finally an assured location from someone at the front gate.

We sourced tarps from old advertising banners and lay them beneath fine, red carpets as the circus marquee slowly went up above us. A bolt of red cloth was unrolled to the perimeter, and eventually a giant vagina created the entryway. This was a space for women to explore their bodies and receive guidance from professional sexologists.

I felt satisfied in my service to the divine feminine and was released from my duty.

My main excitement for Confest was to meet up with Lexi (they/them) again. I had not embraced them since leaving Mullumbimby so many months ago and was eager to do so again. I had enough service to know that they were running late and may not make it in daylight. So I went back to the van, had dinner, and relaxed.

As the sun went below the trees again, I sat on the roof rack with a new neighbour, Clinton. We engaged in conversation while watching the colourful influx of arriving guests.

The day dimmed into dusk as cars slowly drove past the van. I broke conversation with Clinton long enough to look over my shoulder to make immediate eye contact with Lexi. They were riding on the back of a ute with four of their friends. We waved and blew kisses at each other.

I figured they would need time to set up, but my excitement prompted me to seek them out. It was getting dark and I had no idea how I would run into them. This would be an introduction to the magic of connecting at Confest.

Lexi messaged me earlier that day that they would be camping near Evolve Village, an in-forest collective of tents and workshop spaces. I thought of starting there and wandered towards the forest entrance.

The entrance was a hive of people arriving, and night had truly fallen. I knew that finding them would be a difficult task in the dark, but I persisted in my folly, kept their face in my mind and heart and continued onwards.

To my delight, we bumped into each other at the gate. What a joy! They were still setting up camp and had to return the kilometer or so back to the parked car to retrieve their food for the week. I went along to help.

I acknowledged internally and out loud that they were focusing on getting camp set up and went along for the ride anyway. I relished the proximal connection to this human I had missed and grieved for so much (see https://lifeonfourwheels.com/2025/02/21/the-leaving/). After retrieving the extra supplies, I left them to settle in and spoke of meeting up tomorrow, then returned to my van to rest in anticipation of the next four days.

Morning had arrived and the festival had begun. How could I ever convey my senses and experience in prose? I felt at home. My voice cried “These are my people” often. My heart beamed upon every soul I faced.

A large marquee covered two ten metre lines of zig zagging blackboards sitting on the sandy ground. One line showed the current day, the next, tomorrow. Each board, a venue, with a timeline from top to bottom. The possibilities were numerous, and that was just the workshops. Fire twirling, drumming, consent, sex, neurodivergence, craft, chess, construction, permaculture, cooking, music, freedom life skills of every persuasion. If you knew it, you could hold a workshop on it, and just had to find a venue.

Bonnie’s words were “This festival is very much a ‘choose your own adventure’” and I really understood what she meant. So much was on offer. What did I really want to do?

Although longing was there to be a part of workshops, I listened to the voice within, the little voice from the gut, the inner child. He replied “I want to frolic, and wander, and bring joy to people”. So that’s what I did, an intentionless intention. I dressed in my most fabulous attire and walked the land – my chosen adventure this day.