Silver Linings: Roo 2025

“I don't want to stay in the bad place, where no one believes in silver linings or love or happy endings. If clouds are blocking the sun, there will always be a silver lining that reminds me to keep on trying”
— Matthew Quick.

It’s weird when bad things happen. Sometimes it takes years to see that the worst things ever, in the moment, are the best.

Bonnaroo this year didn’t go in any way, shape, or form that I expected.

Maybe starting the week with a flat tire, our friend’s car getting towed, or breaking the key getting into the RV and having to call a locksmith off Reddit should’ve been a sign of bad luck—but we persevered through it all, knowing that soon we’d be in our happy place, with our people, on The Farm.

If you’ve been to The Farm, you know.

There’s magic in the land. There’s magic in the people. There’s magic everywhere you look and everywhere you turn.

It’s our Disneyland for adults—our chance to dress up as anything we want and dance the night away, healing our inner child.

It’s a place where anyone can not only be 100% themselves but be accepted and celebrated for it—something many of us, unfortunately, don’t feel in our everyday lives.

It’s been a fucking year… individually. Collectively.

We all needed this.

Bonnaroo is our yearly escape from reality when our world feels so out of control. It restores my belief that good people exist. It reminds me that we’re all one and that I’m not alone.

There’s something so beautiful about being surrounded by people and realizing we’re all connected—music and dancing have the power to unite us all.

In Bonnaroo’s mission, they say to radiate positivity and compassion.

That’s hard to do when something you’ve prepared months for gets taken away in the blink of an eye, by something completely out of your control—the weather.

Wine Wednesday: The Warm-Up

My grand idea of parking in the back 60 (also known as staff parking) and “easily” walking to our RV campsite didn’t necessarily go as planned. I had an idea and bought wagons. It was not a good idea. But we love self-reflection and being humbled.

After trekking across The Farm, we decided to drink wine, explore Where in the Woods, scream Ego at the top of our lungs, and ease into our weekend.

We were off to a strong start—Spicy Pie and giggling the night away in our bunks. Never have I laughed so hard, falling asleep on a sleeping pad, crunching carrots.

Thursday: Test. Test.

You know how, when one thing goes wrong, the universe just keeps laughing at you?

Welcome to Bonnaroo!!

The best example of life’s challenges and my patience being tested—wrapped up into one chaotic, magical weekend.

There’s nothing like teaching yoga to over 100 people at a music festival with no mic, no music, and trying to yell “calmly” from the top of a picnic bench.

Teaching yoga at Bonnaroo is my favorite part of the year. I’ve had the privilege of doing it the past couple of years through Small World Yoga (SWY), a nonprofit studio in Nashville that brings yoga to communities that wouldn’t normally have access.

Ten minutes before my scheduled start time, I still had no microphone and no music.

So what did I do? I jumped up on a picnic table and yelled, “Happy Roo!”

Then I asked everyone to talk to someone they didn’t come with about something that makes them uncomfortable.

Because you know what’s uncomfortable? Life.

And also, teaching yoga at a music festival with no music and no mic.

I got mic’d up ten minutes in, but the music never came.

Over 100 people, their breath, their intentions, their beating hearts.

The best part about teaching for SWY is that it proves you don’t need a mat to do yoga. That spirit is reflected at Bonnaroo—people showing up for themselves. Without mats. Just as they are.

High-Five Friday

We spent most of the day in our RV, watching others like cats out the window. Never have I laughed more than I did inside those four walls during the thunderstorm.

At one point, my hair was sticking straight up like I was going to get struck by lightning. I wish I were kidding. If anyone were to get struck by lightning, it’d probably be me. I’ve never run back to safety so fast in my life.

*

Everything was on a rain delay and it felt like summer camp for adults.

Our honorary camp counselor had us doing team-building exercises, as we changed into our animal print outfits and got hyped up for the night’s adventures.

Later that day, we started to hear rumors.

That Bonnaroo was canceled and we had to be off the grounds by the next day.

We were hoping it was a bad game of telephone. But it wasn’t.

After finding out the devastating news, a decision had to be made.

Were we going to sit and sulk in pity and sadness over something that we can’t control or are we going to put on our rain boots, go party, and dance like we never have?

In true Bonnaroo fashion, pop-up concerts happened on top of RVs.

People played in “This Tent” and in “That Tent”.

High-fives were handed out left and right.

I believe that this is the true Bonnaroo spirit.

And probably how Bonnaroo started in the first place.

It’s hard to radiate positivity without slipping into toxic positivity—something I’m careful not to do. Because yeah, life is full of hard, shitty things. And yeah, it sucked that something I was looking forward to all year—my place to reset—got taken away.

But how beautiful is it to share collective grief with thousands of others who felt the same way?

How beautiful is it to dance on a table that feels like a stage?

To slap the bag.

To get told the festival was canceled and still search for the mailbox totem your friends were holding in the crowd.

Saturday in Nashville

The amount of community, pop-up shows, and artists that came together in Nashville and beyond was unreal. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t what we expected. But it was beautiful.

And how fucking poetic is that?

We walked around the city yelling “Happy Roo!” pretending to scan in everywhere we went.

Easy Like Sunday Morning

Every year, I teach yoga on Father’s Day.

I don’t “celebrate” it in the traditional way. For a lot of us, it’s a day marked by grief—whether your dad is gone, or never really was one.

So, like many of the other artists, and because I’m a stickler for keeping the traditions I create, I held a pop-up class at Centennial Park, with support from SWY.

It didn’t look like my usual Father’s Day class at Bonnaroo, but honestly, it was better. Thank you to the amazing humans who showed up.

I’m so grateful to be part of the SWY and Bonnaroo communities. There’s no other kind of acceptance like it.

*

After yoga, we kept the tradition going and went to Hattie B’s and Bobbie’s Dairy Dip (iykyk).

As we were leaving, a woman approached us holding a bag.

“Do you girls like puppies?” she asked.

We shrugged and laughed. “Yeah, but what’s the catch?” Naturally, we thought we might get kidnapped.

She opened the bag and said, “Well, here.” Two tiny, brown golden doodles peeked out.

We asked how much.

She said, “Free.”

I picked one up. And I knew—I wasn’t putting her back down.

*

Things never work out the way you think they will. And honestly, last weekend might be the best reflection of life I’ve ever experienced at a music festival.

This Bonnaroo wasn’t what I expected.

I’m sure I’ll be grieving it until we return to The Farm again.

But if it hadn’t been canceled, I wouldn’t have gotten my magic puppy.

I wouldn’t have shared collective grief with thousands of people and never felt less alone.

I wouldn’t have made some of my best memories or laughed as hard as I have in a long time. 

I’m hoping we will all be on The Farm one day, hopefully soon—But that’s something that’s not in any of our control. 

So until then—Happy Roo 🌈 ✨ 🐾

P.S. Her name is Roo Hattie (B)obbie Kelly. I know. I don’t care.