Harvest Moon Festival founder explores life and spirituality
Nov. 10—TUPELO — It's hard to believe, but there was a time when Laura Carver didn't know who she was.
"When people would ask me what I believed or who I am or what I am ... I didn't know what to tell them," she said, lounging in the back of the distinctive bright-pink trailer that, at the time, housed her boutique, Gypsy Queens.
There's a feeling of calm inside the space. Smoke from burning incense fills the air, giving the atmosphere inside a hazy, dreamlike feel. Background music — a droning mix of instrumentation and birdsong — adds to the ambience.
Carver sits in the back of the trailer, lounging comfortably in a repurposed barber's chair. A pair of candles burn atop a table nearby, flickering above half-blackened sticks of sage, small piles of ash and a ceramic statue of the Hamsa Hand, its distinctive eye peering out from the palm.
Wearing a straw fedora — a feather tucked into the band circling its brim — and a Nirvana T-shirt, Carver seems in her element. Although a nomad, both physically and spiritually, she seems to have finally found her home.
Over the years, the Greenwood native has lived across the South — the Delta; Murfreesboro, Tennessee; Dulac, Louisiana; and now, Tupelo. She's tried her hand at various careers, including cosmetology, bartending, retail and a stint at the Department of Human Services.
As she's explored what she wants to do and where she should live, Carver has also delved into who she wants to be.
The answer to that question, it turns out, is who she's always been.
"When I was little, I was always drawn to crystals," she said, the words spilling out of her quickly. "I was drawn to anything that was different. ... My daddy used to tell me all the time, 'Laura, you are so weird.'"
The grin she seems to always wear widened.
"Now, I'm like, 'Thank you,'" she said.
Carver belongs to a niche but devoted subculture of New Age spiritualists. Her beliefs are fluid ... open to ideas and interpretations, eager to explore the world around her and practices of various cultures. Inside her shop, she sells a sparse but varied mix of items that appeal to those with similar interests — incense and crystals, clothing and decorations. When she opens Gypsy Queens in its new permanent storefront in Tupelo this weekend, she'll eventually host oracle and pendulum readings, offer Reiki and sound healing sessions and ... in time ... tattoo therapy.
Raised by a Baptist preacher, Carver says spirituality has always been a defining feature of her life. She doesn't identify with any particular organized religion, although she's quick to assert her faith in God. Instead, she allows her curious nature to soak in spiritual philosophies from here and beyond.
"I want to know about everything," she said. "There are so many possibilities. You just have to be willing to open your eyes to see it."
Under a harvest moon
If the success of the inaugural Harvest Moon Festival is any sign, Carver is far from alone in her beliefs and practices. Or, at the very least, her willingness to explore such ideas.
Created by Carver, the event, held alongside its celestial namesake over the last weekend of September, was ... as its flier described it ... "old world New Orleans meets hippie moon gathering." The two-day festival featured tarot and oracle readings, henna artwork and sound healing, a lantern release, goat yoga, vendors and a fundraiser for the Tupelo-Lee Humane Society (Carver is a passionate animal lover).
According to Carver, she founded the festival to bring people who, like her, love alternative forms of healing and spiritualism together in Northeast Mississippi. She held the festival just outside of Tupelo, in a field in rural Lee County.
"Anytime I need supplies or anything, I need to go to Memphis or Jackson (Tennessee); it's not around here," she says. "I know all these people from here, there and yonder. I wanted to bring them all together."
Initially, Carver planned to organize a small gathering — a "shindig," she called it — but those plans quickly grew to something much grander. Organizing began in May, and by the time the festival rolled around a few months later, she had lined up more than 35 vendors from across the South — Alabama, Tennessee, Arkansas, the Gulf Coast.
What she thought would be a gathering of around 200 people wound up with more than double that number of attendees. Rough calculations put the actual attendance at more than 500 people.
"I was shocked," she said. "I wanted to see if there was a need for this in this community ... It blew up."
Attendees represented a "good mixture of people." The atmosphere was laid back, fun and familial.
"There were kids; there were older people ... It really felt like just a big family reunion," Carver said. "There was no hustle and bustle; no drunk people; no craziness whatsoever."
With such an unexpectedly strong response, Carver says she's already planning future events — smaller gatherings until the next and inevitable Harvest Moon Festival.
Just as soon as she's recovered, that is.
"I have to get out of the smoke and haze of this one first," she said with a laugh. "It's stressful, doing what you want to do instead of what you have to do."
Being who she is
More than anything, Carver hopes the success of the Harvest Moon Festival has brought a greater awareness to a community that's existed for generations, but not always in the public eye.
"We're already here. I really just want to bring awareness to us," she said.
Carver laughed, then added, "We're not drinking goat's blood. We may do some goat yoga, but that's about it."
Throughout her life, Carver has searched for her place, both physically and metaphysically. She's as surprised as anyone to learn she's always belonged right where she is.
"You don't have to have a label. You don't have to know exactly what you are," she said. "You just be you, and believe in what you believe in ... Live for you, and live for who you really are."
