Tim Curry has died. He was eighty years old.

By all accounts, he was a quiet and humble man, polite and professional in his work as a singer and actor. A heavy smoker who suffered a debilitating stroke when he was only 66, in recent years he had been confined to a wheelchair and worked mainly as a voice actor. Now he is gone, and we are left to reflect on his legacy as a performer.

For many of us, that legacy centers on The Rocky Horror Picture Show. That makes it a troubled legacy, and I’ll get to that. But first, I’ll share my own story in relation to that film and the impact it had on me, especially as a young (and very closeted) adult.

I only saw it in the theater a couple of times, so it was not nearly as impactful in my life as it was among some of my friends — some of whom went to see it, back in the day, just about every weekend. I first heard of it when I was in high school, when the organist at my church (how deliciously ironic that is) mentioned seeing it (and loving it).1 Sometime after that, I looked at the soundtrack album when I visited the record store, but I thought it looked weird, so I didn’t buy it. Clearly, I wasn’t ready for Rocky Horror!

Then I went off to college, and briefly dated a woman who was one of those who liked to see it every weekend. But that was when she was back home in D.C.; it wasn’t playing anywhere near our rural college, so I never got to see it while we were dating. But she told me all about it.

Like me, she was a refugee from charismatic Christianity — but she was much further along in her liberation from that world, meaning she was much more, shall we say, experienced than I was. We were a bit mismatched and clearly wanted different things out of our relationship (I don’t think she would have used that word), so of course it didn’t last. But we were together long enough for her to tell me all about Rocky Horror.

I learned about what happened at the screenings (my buddy the organist talked cryptically about people throwing toast, but my not-quite-girlfriend helped me to connect the dots). She patiently explained the cosplaying culture at The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I had never heard of cosplaying of any stripe, so this was a fascinating world she was giving me a glimpse of. “I always go as Magenta,” she announced. Wanting to be included, I asked her what part I should play. She thought I was cute, so she said “You could be Rocky” — but that made other friends laugh, for they all insisted I could only be Brad.

When I finally did see the movie, about six months after breaking up with that woman, I was both amused and mortified to learn that Rocky was a physically gorgeous man who strutted around wearing nothing but a gold bikini bottom, while Brad was… well, to call him a nerd would be a bit of an insult to nerds. We’ll leave it at that.

But here’s a secret. When I saw the movie, there was only one character I wanted to be. And that, of course, was Frankie.

Over at the Frankenstein Place

Frankie is the affectionate nickname for the character Tim Curry played: Dr. Frank-N-Furter, the mad scientist who is the central figure in The Rocky Horror Picture Show. As his name suggests, he’s a spoof of Frankenstein; Rocky Horror was the “monster” he created (“come up to the lab / and see what’s on the slab”). But this is not Peter Cushing’s or even Gene Wilder’s Frankenstein. Only 28 years old at the time of filming, Curry was young, gorgeous, and completely at ease playing a “sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania.” Dolled up in makeup and wearing only a corset, fishnet stockings, pearls, sparkly elbow-length gloves, and tiny black undies for much of the film, he was provocatively transgressive in his appearance — let alone his actions. As the story progressed, he proceeded to seduce both Brad and Janet, the naive young fiancées who stumbled into his mansion one dark and stormy night.

When I was a freshman in college, Frankie was basically an embodiment of my shadow, in the Jungian sense. Swaggeringly confident, aggressively bisexual, joyfully genderqueer (before that word even existed), he was basically everything I secretly, secretly wanted to be, but could not bear to admit — not even to myself.

The spiritual heart of The Rocky Horror Picture Show consisted of a lovely ballad called “Don’t Dream It, Be It”2 — where Frankie shares his hedonistic philosophy with Brad, Janet, Rocky and his servant Columbia. The scene, which culminates with the characters swimming (and caressing) in a pool, is as dreamy as the song. Its message — that it’s possible to live your authentic self, and not just spend your days fantasizing about what might be — is, frankly, something I am still learning to manifest in my own life.

Spoiler alert: The story actually goes south pretty dramatically after that idyllic moment. It is revealed that Frankie is actually an alien from another planet; his henchman Riff Raff (played by Rocky Horror creator Richard O’Brien), also an alien, has been tasked with taking over their “mission” and in the process kills Frankie, Rocky and Columbia. The aliens depart, taking the mansion (actually a disguised spaceship), and leaving the surviving earthlings behind to ponder the insignificance of human life.

It’s a bleak and rather existentialist end to a colorful and transgressive film, and frankly I consider it to be one of the most unsatisfactory movie denouements of all time. But that’s not the only problem with The Rocky Horror Picture Show. While it is a campy and goofy sendup of B-movie horror flicks, its treatment of sexual hedonism and gender diversity has not aged well at all. Today, it is easy to see the movie as relying far too heavily on stereotypes that are simply harmful. Frankie, as a character, is violent and predatory, his behavior clearly manipulative, especially with Brad and Janet, meaning that the film seems to suggest that there is something, well, unsavory and disturbing about genderqueerness.

It’s not surprising that it is not at all universally loved by queer people today, especially those who were not yet born when it was first released.

Back to Tim Curry. In recent years, he was well aware of how complicated Rocky Horror’s legacy turned out to be. Here’s a screenshot from a social media post of his from a couple of years back.

His cheek notwithstanding, I completely agree with his sense of history and context. In its day, The Rocky Horror Picture Show was a triumph for queer visibility and for just plainly celebrating both bisexuality and gender beyond the binary. And it was far, far too enmeshed in the prejudices of its time, and therefore it has aged very poorly. Both of these things can be true, simultaneously.

The first time I saw the movie was in 1980, and it was fun and playful and felt liberating. It would be almost a decade before I saw it again, not because I was avoiding it — but simply because I never felt the need or found the opportunity to go back. I finally did see it again in the theater after I moved to Atlanta. It was 1988 and I had a steady girlfriend, so we thought it would be a fun date. I was bitterly disappointed. The crowd seemed loud, aggressive rather than transgressive, and the sense of fun was simply not there. More shouting, less flirting. I don’t know if white middle class America had changed a lot in those eight years (the years of the Reagan administration, interestingly), or if it was just that I had changed. Either way, whatever magic I found in Rocky Horror as an undergraduate seemed to have disappeared. One cannot step in the same river twice.

Let’s Do the Time Warp… Again

I never truly came to grips with my own genderqueerness until I was well into my midlife years. But when I think back on how Frankie made me feel, I can see so clearly now that it was in me, just waiting to break through my anxiety and my inhibition so I could do more than just “dream it” — I really could “be it.” But at the time, the closet was just too tightly locked.

And now Tim Curry is gone. As I have read various encomia for him in the days since his passing, I have come to realize that for many people in the LGBTQ+ community, his portrayal of Dr. Frank-N-Furter was truly iconic: a watershed representation of authenticity, of freedom, of the promise of living one’s true self.

And it’s that concept — of the true self — that makes it appropriate for me to write my own appreciation of Curry on this particular Substack. For what is “Radical Mysticism” if it isn’t an invitation to be one’s radically true self?

I know that when I think about mysticism, even now, I am much more likely to think about Julian of Norwich or Howard Thurman than about Dr. Frank-N-Furter. But maybe as we mourn Tim Curry, it would be worth taking a moment to rethink that a little.

The character of Frankie is deeply flawed and highly problematic, and arguably may have done as much stereotypical harm as liberating good. But mysticism always acknowledges that we human beings are a broken, messy lot. Why should Frankie be any different?

For me, he will always represent the promise of my own erotic and nonbinary authenticity, just as Evelyn Underhill or Ram Dass represent the promise of my spiritual, contemplative authenticity. I’m still trying to live into the fullness of both of those authenticities — which means, I owe just as much of a debt of gratitude to Tim Curry as I do to all the contemplative authors I love.

Dear ones, whether you are being called into the deep authenticity of the mystical life, or of political activism, or simply of being your most fabulously queer (or straight, or cisgender) self: don’t dream it, be it. As they say: be yourself, everyone else is taken.

And as for Tim Curry: may he rest in peace.

The other day when Debonee and I recorded the second episode of our Radical Mystics podcast, I introduced us by saying “We are the radical mystics.” Simple enough — that is the name of our podcast, right?

But it did make a twitch a wee bit. Let me explain why.

As I have written elsewhere, many years ago I made a promise to the British theologian and contemplative writer Kenneth Leech not to call myself a mystic. I got to know Ken through a mutual friend (actually my spiritual director at the time; Ken had been his spiritual director) and while I don’t think I can claim he was my mentor, he was always very kind and encouraging when we would meet and I would ask to pick his brain on whatever project I happened to be working on.

It was while I was working on the first draft of the book that, years later, would be published as The Big Book of Christian Mysticism when Ken cautioned me against calling myself a mystic. In his mind, to be called a mystic was an honor — like being regarded as a saint or a shaman. One does not just decide “I am a mystic” just like no one would dare to say “I am a physician” or “I am a therapist” just because they liked to think of themselves that way. Honorifics are earned, not self-bestowed.

Ken wasn’t trying to rain on my parade, though. He said, “Don’t call yourself a mystic, just be a mystic. Leave it to other people to decide if you are a mystic or not.”

All these years later, I think it’s cracking good advice.

To this day I often tell people that everyone is a mystic — but I still shy away from applying the word to myself. Performative humility, perhaps? Or just honoring a promise made to someone I admire many years ago.

So even announcing the podcast: “We’re the radical mystics” felt like a wee bit of a transgression against that promise. But on reflection, I think it is appropriate for me or Debonee to say “we’re the radical mystics” — for these reasons:

1. It’s the name of the podcast, for heaven’s sake. For Debonee and I to say we’re the Radical Mystics is rather like Michael Gungor and Hillary McBride calling themselves the Liturgists. It’s not a comment on their ability to lead worship (although I suppose they’d make fine liturgists), it’s simply the name they give to themselves for creating their audio content.

2. As much as I continue to admire Ken Leech, I have to admit that I probably use the word “mystic” differently than he did. Ken came of age in the 1950s, before the huge renaissance of contemplative spirituality that took place in the sixties and beyond. And even though he was very much at the forefront of that renaissance, I think we can still assume that his formation in spirituality came at an earlier age, when “mystic” implied almost being a kind of spiritual superhero. I suspect that for Ken, saying “I’m a mystic” is rather like saying “I’m Superman.” That would be silly at best, at worst delusional.
   But I frankly understand mystics and mysticism in a different way, one that stresses how ordinary mystics are rather than how exceptional they might be. I heartily subscribe to the notion, popularized by Br. David Steindl-Rast, that “the mystic is not a special kind of human being, but every human being is a special kind of mystic.” If that’s true, then it should be a good thing for people to claim themselves as mystics: they are embracing the fullest authenticity of their spiritual selves.

3. And finally, there’s the specific kind of mystic that we are talking about: not just a mystic, but a radical mystic. A mystic who is rooted. Grounded. Embodied and earthy. A mystic who embraces their contemplative path fully and completely, and who wants to give their all to the transforming beauty and power of the interior life. This has real world, meaningful implications not just on the inside, but in our shared common lives as well. Once again, I think part of what makes radical mystics so, well, radical, is just how humble and down-to-each such an approach to spirituality can be. To be a radical mystic is not about levitating like Teresa of Ávila or manifesting the stigmata like Padre Pio (even though I’m all for a good miracle or two). To radical mystics, the greatest miracles of all are paradoxically the most ordinary: the miracle of love, of compassion, of forgiveness, of reconcilation, of peace, of justice, of building community, of appreciating the many small wonders and quiet beauties of life.

For those reasons, I have to amend that old promise to Ken Leech. I’m not going to put on airs about being special or “chosen by God” by suggesting I’m a mystic (in the old understanding of the word); but I am all for saying “we are radical mystics” — with the implicit understanding that the we means potentially everyone.

And let me end by noting that Ken Leech, priest of the Church of England, internationally known leader in combating racism and religious bigotry, tireless champion for the poor and the unhoused, and one with a deep and abiding love the Spirit encountered in deep silence: he was a radical mystic if ever there were one!

Take a whirlwind tour with us from Japan to India to Germany to Austria; from the deep panentheism of Shinto to the nonduality of Vedanta and the sacrifice-it-all devotion of Catholic mysticism; from the longing of an angel to the power of family and finally to the surprising link between death and dance.

What movies do you think belonged on this list, but we left out? Which of our selections excites you? Infuriates you, opens up the curiosity of your heart? Let us know — the comments section isn’t going to fill up by itself, you know.

Scroll on to see the trailers for each of the movies we discuss.

P.S. There are plenty of books that can be linked to these movies, but we’ll offer you just one for now: Star Child by Claire A. Nivola (see C’mon C’mon).

One of the fun (or infuriating, depending on your point of view) qualities of the word “radical” is how it carries radically (sorry, couldn’t resist) different meanings when used by different people in different contexts.

Three easy examples:

— In surfer culture, especially in my generation (maybe it’s different now), to say something is radical or simply rad would basically be to say it’s awesome, very good, impressive. In other words, it’s a word of unadulterated praise.

— In politics, radical might refer to something you really like (“our country is overdue for a radical change”) or something you really don’t like (“those radicals bombed the ROTC building”). Either way, it implies being on the extreme edge — and whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing depends largely on the eyes of the beholder. To conservatives, socialism is radical; to liberals, MAGA is radical. In neither case is the word meant as a compliment.

— Mathematicians, chemists, or physicians use radical in a variety of specific ways. A doctor performs a radical prostatectomy to remove an entire prostate and often adjacent tissues (usually in order to remove cancer). Meanwhile, a “free radical” is not a political extremist at large, but rather is an “especially reactive atom or group of atoms that has one or more unpaired electrons” that can be dangerous to living tissue.1 Since these terms are quite technical and have specific meanings, they don’t have the same positive or negative value that the word carries in other contexts.

Whew. I’m thinking of Glinda asking Dorothy, “Are you a good witch or bad witch?” So… are you a good radical, or a bad radical, or just some sort of scientific radical?”

Then again, can’t we say much the same thing about the words “mystic,” “mystical” or “mysticism”?

— For contemplative Christians, a mystic is a particular kind of Christian whose faith is marked by a profound experience of either union with God, or of the felt presence of God — but paradoxically can also be used to describe those whose experience of God is shaped by an experience of God’s seeming absence.

— Meanwhile, in our culture at large, the word mystic is practically an umbrella term for new agers, psychics, shamans, UFO-seekers, Wiccans and other neopagans, and anyone else who seems to espouse a spirituality meaningful for them, but others find rather easy to dismiss as “woo-woo” or flaky.

— Other religions may not typically use this word internally, since it comes from Greek Christian culture. But it gets applied to a variety of religious or spiritual communities or traditions — such as Kabbalists, Sufis, Advaita Vedantists, Taoists, and others — in a generic way to imply any kind of spiritual practice or lineage that is marked by an embodied experience or a serious commitment to the tradition’s beliefs or practices.

— Historically speaking, the concept of mysticism has been used by empiricists, agnostics and atheists as a blanket term for criticizing religious or spiritual beliefs and practices. In this sense “mysticism” essentially means “woolly thinking” or what Sigmund Freud called “magical thinking” — in other words, mysticism in this sense is a synonym for irrationality.

What were Debonee and I thinking when we decided to call our Wisdom Camp experience Radical Mysticism? We chose not one, but two, words that can say remarkably different things depending on context.

Simply put, radical mysticism can carry a variety of possible meanings. Some are positive, others negative, still others neutral or ambiguous.

It might be easiest if she and I sat down, drew up a statement clarifying what we mean when we use a term like “radical mysticism,” and then leave things like that. Part of me is tempted to do just that.

But then it occurs to me that she and I might not come to an easy agreement.

And so this is where I’ve landed: that part of the appeal in a term like radical mysticism is its very ambiguity. This is not a concept that can be easily nailed down: thank heaven for that.

When we leave radicality and mysticism in their ambiguous state, we invite you to do your own work: of deciding what these words represent, either singly or together, for you. We take a risk with this, of course. You could always conclude that you understand radical mysticism to mean extremist irrationality. Clearly, we hope you don’t go there. But it’s easy to see how someone could reach that conclusion.

To a conservative fundamentalist Christian, both “radical” and “mysticism” might sound or seem dangerous. Again, we cannot prevent someone from feeling that way. Naturally, we hope that no one will jump to any conclusions here.

But then there are the happier ways of interpreting these words: experiencing God awesomely. Feeling the divine presence to the nth degree. Finding that place where political activism and contemplative silence come together to dance (for what it’s worth, that last example is pretty close to what I think radical mysticism is).

We won’t define this for you, because we don’t believe we have any business telling other people what to think — or even how to define nuanced words like these. We are not looking for followers who will obey us — we would much rather have dialogue partners who are willing to meet us, eye-to-eye, as we seek to understand just what it might, or could, mean — to be a “mystic on the edge” in our time of crisis.

Ready to help us discern this one? Reach out to us, with your questions, your comments, your ideas, your hopes, dreams, and desires. Let’s create our shared understanding of radical mysticism together.

Evelyn Underhill, the renowned 20th century authority on the inner life, famously titled one of her most enduring books as Practical Mysticism: A Little Book for Normal People. Now, I do tend to stumble over the word “normal” in that title — truth be told, I am much more comfortable with thinking of myself as “weird.” But it’s helpful to remember that Underhill was not writing for artists and Bohemians. She saw doctors, lawyers, business leaders, and other mainstream folks as her audience: these are the “normal” folks whom she believed were just as called to the interior life as are the most austere saints, nuns, and monks.

A century later, another term to help us think about experiential spirituality has emerged: the concept of ordinary mysticism. Mirabai Starr, Mark Longhurst, Dennis Tamburello, and Albert Haase are some of the authors of our time whose work explores ways to understand the mystical life as ordinary. It seems that ordinary mysticism is even more down-to-earth than its practical predecessor. If a practical mystic is the kind of person whose spirituality pairs well with the most mundane qualities of modern-day life, then an ordinary mystic is anyone who intuitively recognizes that you don’t need to run off to a monastery, or engage in extreme fasting, or do any other kind of on-the-edge activities, in order to be accepted as a “true” mystic. Experiential spirituality is for everyone — and especially, it would seem, for people who are truly humble, completely down-to-earth, and at home with the most quotidian circumstances of our lives.

When Debonee Morgan and I were coming up with a theme for our program at the Wild Goose Festival’s Wisdom Camp in 2025, we could easily have opted to call our approach to mystical spirituality either “practical” or “ordinary,” following the concepts that these writers have explored in their various books. But we opted instead for the concept of radical mysticism. Let’s look at a few ideas that help us to understand what puts the “rad” into radical mysticism.

The first thing that needs to be said: I’m not sure that any of these terms are mutually exclusive. Hopefully, a practical mysticism is also an ordinary mysticism — and vice versa. And hopefully, a radical mysticism, at its best, is also thoroughly practical and ordinary. When we try to understand the distinctions between these words, we’re not trying to create any sort of firewall between them; rather, we are hoping to let these different words with their different meanings illuminate and inform each other, so that our overall sense of mystical spirituality is deepened, not fragmented, by these three different approaches.

In a nutshell, then, let’s consider what these different ways of understanding mysticism are saying to us about spirituality — in a way that sheds light on how we can go deeper.

Here’s one way to approach these three concepts:

• Practical mysticism emphasizes how mystical spirituality is embedded in something we do, something we perform. It’s “practical” to engage in Centering Prayer, to pray and meditate daily, to go on retreats and work with spiritual directors. Practical mysticism is mysticism in practice.

• Ordinary mysticism reminds us that mysticism is down to earth, and that ordinary people get to be mystics as much as great saints or theologians do. This is mysticism for the rest of us, mysticism that doesn’t put on airs, mysticism that finds beauty and truth and purpose in the humblest corners of everyday life.

• Radical mysticism is spirituality that is deeply rooted: it gets to the bottom of things. It’s mysticism on the edge, but also mysticism at the foundation of wonder and in the center of joy. This is not extremist except maybe in the sense of extreme joy, extreme purpose, and extreme meaning. This is not mysticism that tells us what to believe: rather, it is a type of mysticism that invites us into greater wisdom and freedom which makes it possible to decide for ourselves what we hold as true, and good, and beautiful.

If a radical is someone who refuses to accept the brokenness of the status quo, then a radical mystic is someone who wants to rethink religion and spirituality from the ground up.

If a radical is someone brave enough to fight for meaningful change, to bring real solutions to real problems, then a radical mystic is someone with the courage to identify the spiritual problems that people experience, and try to find meaningful new solutions that can help us all to make the world a better place.

If a radical is someone who wants to get to the real root of a problem rather than just addressing the symptoms, then a radical mystic is someone who sees spirituality as an invitation to go truly deep in our own hearts, minds, bodies, and souls, so that we might get to the root of what can help us all to find true joy, purpose and meaning in our spiritual lives.

As I write these words, I feel that I must be clear: I’m not there yet. Maybe none of us are. But I’m willing to do the work to steer my life into this radical new direction: where spirituality matters, where change is real, and where new possibilities can revolutionize the ways we live our lives.

Now, let’s be practical and look for ways to live the promise of radical mysticism in the most ordinary ways we can!

A Reminder: Radical Mysticism is the theme of Wisdom Camp at the Wild Goose Festival!

Like last year, Debonee Morgan and I are leading a day-long workshop on Thursday, September 3 on the theme of “Radical Mysticism.” We’d love to see you there.

The Wild Goose Festival is a camping event, although hotels and AirBnB rentals can be found in the vicinity. Admission to the festival covers all programming from Thursday evening through Sunday morning; if you want to attend the Thursday “Wisdom Camp” program, there is a separate admission fee just for that event.

Visit www.wildgoosefestival.org to learn more about the Wild Goose Festival.

To purchase your tickets for both Wisdom Camp and the main festival, click on this link: www.wildgoosefestival.org/tickets/and select “Buy Tickets Now.” Remember to use the code A-CM to get $50 off of your adult regular admission. Register now, and we’ll see you then!

Please… share with all your friends!

Trust the Silence. It’s already inside you: after every heartbeat, between and beneath each thought. Learn to listen to it. Learn to gently let go of your inner commentator; give that voice the day off. Breathe quietly. Allow the silence to guide you.

Be Your Rooted Self. You are really you, only and completely you all the way down, deep into the soil. And if you are like everyone else, you’ve taken in lots of messages to be someone you’re not. Get rid of that nonsense. Give the world the gift of you.

Live Beyond Belief. Change up your worldview, your creed, your belief system. Not for the sake of chaos but for the sake of staying present and mindful. Discover the treasures that your dogmas tend to filter out. Let those treasures change you.

Embrace Playful Wonder. Giggle and be goofy. Run around screaming with the unanswerable questions. Jump in and out of fountains. Get dirt under your fingernails. Notice just how magnificent it all is. Marvel at just how wonderful you are.

Prioritize Joy. Don’t delay this one: it’s the most important thing after love. Give joy the place of honor it deserves. If joy eludes you, woo it gently and kindly; be patient but persistent. Be intimate with joy’s close friends: delight, awe, gratitude, and fun.

Love Nondually. Cultivate the vision of a world where unity matters more than polarity. The poles don’t disappear — dance with them both. Love them all, and let God sort them out. Watch over your heart, and gently deconstruct your resentments and bitterness.

Break the Rules. Mystics are not sheep; they are woefully incapable of simply doing what they’re told. Test the limits, push back against the meaningless customs and barriers that exist only to serve the convenience of others. Be radically free.

Color Outside the Lines. Take up a new hobby. Join a new religion (or an old one). Love someone you’re not “supposed” to love. Wear the wrong clothes, listen to the wrong music, notice the person everyone mocks and get to know their story — which will surprise you.

Be Psychedelic. The sacred plants are optional — but the transformed consciousness is necessary. Breathe exuberantly. Dream with abandon. Pay attention to everything. Integrate emerging wisdom. Get lost in expansive music and swirling colors. Be alive.

Ignore the Institution. Be kind and responsible, of course, but don’t waste time with bureaucratic officiousness. Question authority (including your own). Be humble but not a doormat. Sneak in through the cracks where no one’s watching.

Dismantle Privilege. For this one, inquire within; recognize who you deem to be “less than.” Share your advantages with others. Listen to those who are not used to being heard. Apologize whenever necessary. Agitate for constructive change.

Cause Good Trouble. Be curious; see what it’s like to rock the boat a little. If something needs to be changed, change it yourself if you can. Otherwise, find some way to get the attention of those in power. Be irritating and annoying. Be a story worth telling.

In 2025 I was invited to become the new facilitator for a day-long program called Wisdom Camp, held each year at the Wild Goose Festival in North Carolina.

The Wild Goose Festival brings together artists, musicians, writers, activists, contemplatives, spiritual directors, and many others to explore the intersections of spirituality, creativity, and justice. Having participated in the festival several times, I was honored to help lead one of its signature day-long experiences.

Wisdom Camp serves as a retreat and spiritual practice intensive, offering participants a deeper contemplative experience than the festival’s typical one-hour sessions. Over the years it has featured presenters such as Adam Bucko, Matthew Fox, Mirabai Starr, Lama Rod Owens, Cassidy Hall, and Alexander John Shaia, so I knew I had big shoes to fill.

My first step was inviting Debonee Morgan to serve as co-facilitator. Debonee is a therapist, spiritual director, and executive director of Zeitgeist Atlanta, where I serve as contemplative-in-residence. Her background in contemplative spirituality, spiritual direction, and integrative therapy, combined with her inclusive, pluralistic approach to faith, made her the ideal partner.

After exploring several ideas, we settled on a theme that immediately energized us both: Radical Mysticism.

Here’s a video we created to let people know about Wisdom Camp 2025:

Together we designed a day of spiritual practices, conversation, and reflection around that theme. The response exceeded all expectations: the festival organizers told us it was the best-attended Wisdom Camp — and the best-attended day-long camp—in the festival’s history. We received the news with gratitude, believing we were simply serving something much larger than ourselves.

That experience convinced us that Radical Mysticism deserved a life beyond a single annual retreat. As we prepare to return for Wisdom Camp 2026, we’ve also launched www.RadicalMystics.com as an ongoing space to share articles, podcasts, videos, and conversations. Our hope is to gather companions from around the world who want to explore a radical approach to mystery and what it might mean for our lives.

But this begs a question…

What is “Radical Mysticism”?

Words like “radical” and “mystic” carry a lot of connotations, ranging from the visionary to, frankly, the unsavory. So here are my thoughts on what this curious term might mean.

Let’s start with mystic. It’s related to mystery, and before that, to silence: the word mute descends from the same Greek word that gave us mystery and mysticism. Depending on where you’re coming from, mysticism could mean union with God, the experience of enlightenment, the transcendence of ordinary reality, a visionary dimension of consciousness — to name just a few possibilities. A mystic, therefore, is someone who either experiences, or calibrates their life toward, some form of mystical experience or consciousness. And even though it can mean many different things especially to different people, there seems to be a golden thread running through all the varieties of mysticism: a recognition that life carries an array of possibilities, far beyond what ordinarily meets the eye. Nothing is impossible to the mystic.

So then there’s “radical.” Forget any ideas you might have about violent extremists or inflexible ideologues — we’re using the word in a much more grounded (literally!) way. It comes from the Latin word for root — radix — think radishes. To be radical, therefore, means (or can mean) to be rooted, stable, anchored in the good earth (and the corollary to the good earth, the good human body). Radicals start at the root of the matter, and the root of mysticism is the experience of infinite possibilities. We weave mystery and silence and rootedness together to celebrate a vision of spirituality — indeed, of life in general — that is willing to go beyond the limitations of conventional religion, or garden-variety politics, or “business as usual” society. Mystics want liberation, transformation, deification (becoming one with the divine). Radical mystics, therefore, want that kind of interior transfiguration literally from the ground up.

Okay, I know this is all somewhat vague. But that’s by intention: we don’t want to box you in with our ideas about what radical mysticism is all about — or what is possible for us. We just want to co-create, with you, a forum where possibility and liberation and deep interior transformation all dance together. Where we can embody our from-the-roots-up spirituality beyond the confines of religion, of dogma, of limiting ideas of “this is how we’ve always done it.” Let’s open our hearts and minds and souls to infinite possibility: that’s where radical mystics love to dance. So come, and dance with us.

Beyond the Wild Goose

To be a radical mystic means to be engaged in something sacred and deep and eternal. And while we are eager to revisit our Wild Goose Festival friends (and to meet some new companions) as we return to the Wild Goose for Wisdom Camp 2026, we also feel like this topic is bigger than what one single retreat day once a year could fully do it justice.

So we decided to complement the annual in-person Wisdom Camp with a forum here on Substack, where not only can Debonee and I create content (whether articles, notes, podcasts or videos) to share with anyone and everyone interested in this topic, but hopefully this could also serve as a forum where a larger community could begin to form. Obviously, not everyone is going to make the trek to rural North Carolina to participate in a weekend festival; our purpose in creating www.RadicalMystics.com is to begin inviting friends and companions from around the world to join us in exploring and discerning a radical approach to mystery — and what it might mean for any of us.

We’re inviting you to be part of the circle. We hope you’ll subscribe to this newsletter, and that you’ll share your thoughts, ideas, etc. with us and with others who are drawn to this intersection of mystery and rootedness. If you haven’t already done so, subscribe here. Tell your friends, comrades, co-conspirators and fellow troublemakers about this as well. Let’s be community together.

Thanks. And stay tuned! There’s more to come.