The early November sunshine that typically warms up the southern deserts of Israel was in full force. The car, packed with camping equipment, an abundance of snacks, and several young Israelis, descended the barren slopes that rise and fall to the east of Jerusalem, terminating at the vast lowlands of the Jordan River Basin.
As the Jordan Valley opens up before us, the vistas are as mesmerizing as they are short-lived. We’ve reached the end of Israel, and so there are only two options remaining in our journey onwards. I veer the steering wheel toward the right, initiating our southbound venture along the mesmerizing western banks of the Dead Sea.
As the car sped along the sun-beaten asphalt that hugs the Israeli half of the Dead Sea, my mind drifted to our destination. I had attended hardly any music venues in the past year, let alone a festival. How could I dance when things are still so dire? How could anyone?
“I heard that a lot of Nova survivors are going to be there,” a friend in the backseat said as if reading my troubled mind. Suddenly, my mental state seemed much less challenging than those of others heading to the same destination. I turned up the radio in the hopes of drowning out any more unwanted concerns that my mind might raise.
The striking blues and deep oranges of the Negev made the three-hour trip a real visual treat. Thankfully, it was with this calming sentiment that I arrived at the Imagine Festival, one of the largest in the Israeli psycho-trance music sphere, a festival synonymous with the one that took place on Oct. 7, 2023, in the fields surrounding Re’im.
As we turned off the highway, the abundance of police was an evident and welcoming sight. The campgrounds were spacious, with many colorful stages spread out across the desert plain. Behind it rose the towering Odem Mountains of Jordan, ascending to heights that are often snow-covered in the cold Arabian winter months.
We arrived early and set up camp in a great location. Friends began arriving from all corners of the country, with some having just returned from reserve duty in Gaza, Lebanon, or the ever-constant outposts in the West Bank. Some had been displaced from their northern homes for over 13 months. Many were hoping to achieve several moments of musical escapism, perhaps loosening their minds by loosening their weary bodies. I was, of course, one of them – for every young Israeli longs for a sense of freedom unmarred and unchallenged by the war reality in which we are all deeply entrenched.
After rejoicing in the presence of so many loved ones, we headed toward the booming music echoing through the desert air, just as the sun was setting behind the Negev’s western hills. The sky responded to this procession with a wide and impressive spectrum of violet hues, illuminating the area with a sensational ambiance.
Capturing the experience of a music festival of this magnitude is almost impossible. Instead, I want to focus on what it represents: a simple reflection of a deeply emotional event.
I saw friends unite in song and dance. I saw people with smiles across their faces, smiles that had not been present for a very long time. I saw friends dancing with the favorite personal belonging of a murdered Nova victim, someone who would have been there, dancing with them, but now remains only in memory and imagination. I saw people roam the desert plains, looking for answers, or perhaps just some respite from the many haunting questions of reality. I saw pain dissipating into the clean desert air.
I saw healing in its most natural of expressions.
I saw people break down and cry, shout, laugh hysterically, all in an attempt to let it all out, all that pain and suffering they’ve been through for the past 13 months. I saw the Nova community try to pick up its bruised, scattered pieces and dance again, just like the community promised it would from day one. How proud I am when they do just that.
But what I saw most of all, and what caused me to want to share this experience, was the amazing number of young Israelis coming together in the middle of the desert and simply celebrating life. I saw a free nation that did not succumb to terror; I saw a nation more united than ever before. I saw the people of Israel as strong, defiant, and forever committed to fighting evil with love and compassion – two foundational and unequivocal elements of our culture and society.
Masses of Israelis came to this festival not because of tradition but out of solidarity with the Nova survivors, with its victims, and with the legacy of love and freedom that they represent, a legacy that is intrinsically Israeli in every way.
That is what I saw at the Imagine Festival.