Ojai, California. Just saying the name feels like taking a deep breath. Tucked away in the hills, with that golden light that brings everything into perspective, it’s a place where life naturally slows down, where you can actually think. It’s no wonder Rob Bell, who thrives on asking big life questions, has made this place his home. And, in Ojai, Rob has created a space where people can bring their questions — big or small, dig into them, challenge them, and shape ideas taking root inside them. Ojai is a place filled with light and possibility, much like Rob himself.
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Rob Bell is one of those rare, multifaceted creators who defies categorization. He’s a New York Times bestselling author with fourteen books and plays. His work has made its way around the world and been translated into 25 languages. But that’s just one piece of the puzzle. His creativity stretches into visual art, performing art, music, and now into the world of storytelling with his epic novel series, Where’d You Park Your Spaceship?: An Interplanetary Tale of Love, Loss, and Bread. Then there’s The RobCast, his podcast that opens up deep, meaningful conversations about life, spirituality, and everything that matters. Rob’s not just creating content — he’s creating human connection, constantly exploring new ways to communicate and challenge the way we think.

After years of speaking to large audiences alongside figures like Oprah Winfrey and the Dalai Lama, Rob made a significant shift—instead of standing up on stage and speaking at people, he wanted to sit down with them.

Rob is no stranger to change. Once a pastor of a megachurch, his career has evolved as much as his personal philosophy. After years of speaking to large audiences alongside figures like Oprah Winfrey and the Dalai Lama, Rob made a significant shift—instead of standing up on stage and speaking at people, he wanted to sit down with them. This desire for a more intimate, meaningful connection led him to settle in Ojai, California, a place that invites reflection and quiet contemplation.

Advanced player mode 

Rob often jokes about thinking of himself in versions, like software updates. He’ll say something like, "That’s three Robs ago." He doesn’t hold onto old versions of himself, because he views life as this ongoing, unfolding process of becoming. It’s about staying open to what’s next, not clinging to what’s behind. To be clear, he’s not rejecting who he was, but making space for who he’s becoming. And that’s Rob Bell — always evolving, always curious about what’s just beyond the horizon of who he is today. 

When I had asked Rob one of his go-to questions, “What is a Rob?” he smiled, leaning back as if it was a question he loved tossing out to others but rarely answered himself. “A Rob is someone constantly in transition,” he said. “Always curious, always shedding the old skin to see what’s underneath, what’s next.” 

There was a lightness in how he said it, but you could feel the substance, the depth behind his words. It’s not just about personal growth — it’s about embracing the process of becoming, staying open to change, and refusing to be defined by any one version of himself. It’s about upgrading — again and again and again.

The Bell family has a running joke about living life in “advanced player mode.” It’s like a video game where you level up — while the levels may get more challenging, they also become simpler for you in a way, because the levels you’ve come through and the path you’ve traveled mean you’re better equipped to navigate it. You don’t stay in the easy levels forever, and that’s the point. With each level, there’s a greater flow and sense of ease; you’re playing with more experience, more wisdom. For Rob, every new version of himself brings tougher questions, deeper insights, and sometimes bigger risks. But that’s where the magic happens. He’s not here to coast—he’s here for the upgrades, the challenges, and the next level of growth. Because, let’s face it, life’s way more fun in advanced player mode.

For Rob, life, community and connection aren’t confined to a church or a stage—the whole world is a temple. His focus is on helping people see that for themselves.

The whole world is a temple

Rob has never been one to stick with convention. From leading a megachurch in Michigan to performing in comedy clubs and hosting intimate gatherings, he’s always been about breaking boundaries and redefining how we connect. For Rob, life, community and connection aren’t confined to a church or a stage—the whole world is a temple. His focus is on helping people see that for themselves. Whether he’s addressing a packed auditorium, writing books that challenge old assumptions, or sitting in conversation under the trees, Rob seeks to invite people into a more authentic, meaningful way of living.

Picture this: It’s summer 2022, and Rob is about to take the stage on his European speaking tour. The venue? A converted slaughterhouse in Stockholm. Yes, a slaughterhouse. He’s standing there, looking at the cold, industrial walls, considering the history of the place, and then it strikes him: Is this really what I’m still doing? That’s the moment — the kind of moment where you realize it’s time to rethink, time to shift. It’s not about what you’ve done; it’s about what you’re about to do next.

The irony of the whole thing wasn’t lost on him—there he was, about to deliver a message of life and inspiration, in a place designed for death. It was time for a change. It was in that moment, standing on a floor where animals were once brought to die, that Rob had his epiphany: I’m done with this. Not in a dramatic, throw-in-the-towel kind of way, but a quiet, clear, undeniable sense of realization. He knew he no longer wanted to stand on stages, performing for large audiences.

He wanted something more intimate, more dynamic. He wanted connection — not the kind you get with thousands of people looking up at you from their seats, reacting to whatever you say, but the kind that happens face-to-face, in real conversation. Rob had been playing with a new approach — one that had been quietly taking shape since May 2012. By the fall of 2019, he made a significant shift to his gatherings: he upended the format, moving from teaching the whole time to starting with participants' questions. This was when his vision for 2 Days in Ojai began to simmer. And now, he was ready to bring it to a full boil.

2 Days in Ojai

Fast forward to 2022 in Ojai, California. It really is the perfect place to create what Rob had been envisioning — something small, personal, transformative. No stages, no distance between him and the people in the room. “I wanted smaller circles,” Rob explains. “I didn’t want to talk at people anymore. I wanted to talk with them. I wanted to help them find their own answers, not just hand them mine.” Now, a few times a year, people come from all over the world, not to sit passively in a lecture, but to engage in rich conversation under the shade of Ojai’s iconic desert trees.

After our 2 Days in Ojai wraps, Rob and I end up at The Dutchess, a café that’s quintessential Ojai. It’s alive with conversation, laughter, and the smell of fresh bread. The furniture is a collection of pieces that feel like they’ve been gathered over time, much like the conversations happening all around us. The noise makes me wonder if my recording device would even catch our conversation, but Rob, always at ease, just smiles and suggests we also record it on my phone. The moment we sit down, it  feels less like an interview and more like a conversation between friends.

We reflect on the past two days. Like the others who attended, I had come with questions — questions about life, direction, what’s next. And while I wasn’t leaving with answers, I had something deeper, more subtle. 

Inviting better questions

That’s the thing about Rob’s 2 Days in Ojai. It’s not about easy answers. It’s about finding and asking good questions — ones that stay with you long after you leave. 

“What’s your favorite age?” I ask him. “Today,” Rob says without skipping a beat, smiling like the answer was obvious. “Every age just gets better. Even the hard stuff — it’s all part of the journey.”

Throughout the gathering, Rob met with each participant one-on-one. No scripts, no planned speeches. Just real questions about their lives, their struggles, and their dreams. The goal? Not to provide the answers, but to create the space for them to discover or arrive at what they need on their own. Each of us had our moment with Rob to share our stories and ask our questions. And, in turn,  he invited us into better, deeper questions. Questions that help peel back the layers. As we sit in the café, the sunlight warming our table, the conversation flows like an extension of those two days. “What’s your favorite age?” I ask him.

“Today,” Rob says without skipping a beat, smiling like the answer was obvious. “Every age just gets better. Even the hard stuff — it’s all part of the journey.”

I lean back, letting his words sink in. He isn’t stuck in the past, longing for a better time. He isn’t focused on the future, waiting for things to improve. He is right here, in the moment. And isn’t that the goal? To be fully present, embracing the messy, beautiful now?

We talk about advice, too — about what wisdom his younger self would’ve scoffed at. Rob laughs softly, shaking his head. “I would’ve told my younger self that you can get way more done by doing less,” he says. “Back then, I thought it was all about effort equals production. But now? Now I know it’s about slowing down, listening more, and moving with something much bigger than yourself.”

The curious art of letting go

I ask Rob about his daily rituals, and his answer is both simple and revealing. He tells me about walking his dog and “checking in” with the mountain near his home. Some mornings, the clouds wrap around it, almost giving it a life of its own. “It’s grounding,” he says. “Every day, I check in with the mountain. It’s a ritual, like taking my daughter to school. These small moments, they anchor the day.”

And that gets me thinking. He’s not just walking the dog or looking at a mountain. These rituals aren’t just about structuring the day; they’re also what give it meaning. They remind us that we’re part of something bigger, that we’re not alone. And gatherings, whether big events or small conversations, do the same. They help us share both the heavy and the beautiful parts of life.

I nod in understanding. Isn’t that the paradox of life? We think we have to hustle and grind our way to success, but  the real magic happens when we let go, when we stop trying so hard and allow ourselves to be carried by something greater. That’s what those two days in Ojai had been about—letting go, trusting the process, and allowing the gathering itself to work its magic.

One of the most beautiful things about Rob Bell is the way he gives people permission to be deeply, profoundly curious about their own lives, their questions, their very being. It’s as if, in Rob’s presence, curiosity isn’t just a passing thought — it becomes the very air you breathe. He invites it, nurtures it, and most importantly, he makes you feel like your questions and curiosities matter. In fact, it begins to feel as if they might just be the most important things you have.

Whether you’re sitting across from him under those ancient trees or listening to him speak, Rob has this uncanny ability to turn your questions back to you with a gentle push to dive even deeper. He trusts that the questions you’re holding—the ones that gnaw at you, keep you up at night — are the very doorway to something richer. And that’s where the magic happens. In a world obsessed with quick fixes and clear paths, Rob invites us into the mystery and beauty of not knowing — of staying with the questions just a little longer.

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I’ve attended and hosted many workshops, conferences and retreats over the years. And this commitment to letting go and embracing not knowing — instead of tightening our grip and zeroing in on answers — is one beautiful thing that sets Rob’s gatherings apart. Even if you’re looking for them, he won’t offer advice or hand out life strategies. Instead, he offers space — space for you to stay with your questions, space to follow your curiosity wherever it leads. He makes you feel like you don’t have to rush to the answers, because the act of being curious, of getting comfortable with not knowing, is its own form of wisdom. There’s something tender and real about that — this permission he gives you to dwell in the in-between, to let curiosity become a way of life.

As Rob says, “Curiosity is what keeps us alive. It’s the very thing that makes life worth living.” And in those moments with him, you can feel it—the hum of curiosity, of possibility, drawing you forward into a deeper, more authentic version of yourself.

As Rob says, “Curiosity is what keeps us alive. It’s the very thing that makes life worth living.” And in those moments with him, you can feel it—the hum of curiosity, of possibility, drawing you forward into a deeper, more authentic version of yourself.

Reaching across orbits

Rob Bell’s art has always been primarily about one thing: connection.  He is looking for new ways to explore the human condition, and inviting others into that exploration with him. Whether he was crafting a sermon, writing a book, or now, creating visual art and fiction, Rob’s work is always reaching toward the same question: how do we make sense of this wild, beautiful, often painful thing called life? And more importantly, how do we do it together?

When Rob talks about his recent dive into writing fiction, you can see his eyes light up—not because of the futuristic worlds or fantastical elements, but because this genre allows him to explore humanity in a way that feels unbound. For him, these expansive stories set in alternate universes are simply a new, wide-open landscape for exploring the same profound questions he’s always been drawn to. It’s not about escaping reality; it’s about holding a mirror up to it, in a way that lets us see ourselves differently. Through the lens of distant planets and imagined futures, Rob is still digging into the most fundamental human questions: Who are we? What does it mean to be connected to one another? And what kind of world are we creating?

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But it's not just storytelling that’s captured Rob’s curiosity. He's also found his way into playwriting and visual art, and in both, you can sense that same drive to connect. His plays are these rich, deeply human stories, filled with laughter and heartbreak, where the audience is invited into a shared experience that goes far beyond entertainment. And his visual art—well, that’s another step into vulnerability, another way for him to reach out and say, "Here, let me show you what I see. Maybe you’ll see it too."

What makes Rob’s artistic journey so compelling is that it’s never been about standing apart from the world. It’s about diving deeper into it. Art, for him, isn’t some lofty pursuit; it’s a way of bringing people together.

What makes Rob’s artistic journey so compelling is that it’s never been about standing apart from the world. It’s about diving deeper into it. Art, for him, isn’t some lofty pursuit; it’s a way of bringing people together. It’s an invitation—whether through a story, a painting, or a gathering —for us to sit with our questions, to wrestle with them, and to discover something true in the process. For Rob, art is just another way to help people connect, to remind us that we’re not alone, and that through curiosity and creativity, we can find our way—together.

“What’s lighting you up these days?” I ask him.

“People,” he says, his expression softening. “Watching people come together, watching them realize they’re not alone. That’s what gives me life—seeing people create something new, even if it’s just for a moment.”

Making space for wonder

When I ask Rob to sketch out his dream gathering, he grins, a spark of humour in his eyes. "See, that’s the thing," he said. "If I could dream it up, I’d already be doing it. I don’t live in  ‘dreams’ — that word just keeps people at a distance from the things they actually want to do. It’s like keeping what you want on the other side of a wall." He pauses, letting the thought sink in. "We don’t do dreams. We take steps. Let’s sit, listen for the next step, and take it. Watch the dream dissolve as it becomes your life."

Then, with a grin, he begins designing his ideal gathering. Picture Rob sitting in a park or a café, a few chairs scattered loosely around him—no agenda, no schedule, just space. People could wander by, sit down, throw out a question, or just share what’s on their mind. He wouldn’t offer advice, just hold up a mirror to help them hear their own thoughts more clearly. It would be spontaneous, real, full of those in-between moments that lead somewhere deeper. That’s where the magic happens: showing up, taking the next step, and letting the moment open up into something unexpectedly true.

“Endlessly asking questions is boring to me,” he explains. “What’s compelling is when questions lead you to real, tangible, actionable steps—something you can actually do next. It’s all flesh and blood, grounded in this time and space.”

For Rob, the power of a gathering lies in its simplicity—the moments that unfold when people sit together, listen closely, and allow conversation to evolve organically. It’s not about putting on a show or delivering the “right” answers; it’s about creating a space where people feel seen and can engage with their own curiosity in real time. But he’s quick to point out that he’s not interested in asking questions just for the sake of it. “Endlessly asking questions is boring to me,” he explains. “What’s compelling is when questions lead you to real, tangible, actionable steps—something you can actually do next. It’s all flesh and blood, grounded in this time and space.”

This is the kind of gathering he envisions—a setting that encourages authentic, meaningful connection, where questions aren’t just open-ended exercises but catalysts. For him, questions are most powerful when they lead somewhere. They’re doorways to clarity and change. So yes, there’s space, silence, and listening — but every question is designed to lead toward more insight and a clearer path forward. 

Upon reflection, the magic of these two days in Ojai wasn’t just in the words exchanged; it was in the space we created together. While we may have come looking for time with Rob, ultimately  the magic was in all of us coming together, our individual orbits intersecting for a brief, shining moment. It reminded me of a passage from Richard Wagamese’s Embers:

“We approach our lives on different trajectories, each of us spinning in our own separate, shining orbits. What gives this life its resonance is when those trajectories cross and we become engaged with each other, for as long or as fleetingly as we do. There's a shared energy then, and it can feel as though the whole universe is in the process of coming together.”

That’s exactly what happened in Ojai. For those two days, we weren’t just participants in a workshop; we were witnesses to each other’s stories, to each other’s growth. And now, sitting in a café with Rob, that same energy of connection is still present—the power of truly seeing and being seen.
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What it means to be human, together

I remember something David Suzuki once said during a talk: by the time we leave a room, we’ve exchanged atoms through our breath. Think about that for a moment. It’s pretty wild that we’re literally sharing parts of ourselves with one another, even without knowing it. It’s not just a metaphor—it’s the reality of being human, of occupying shared spaces. You arrive as one person, and by the end of the day, you’ve given a piece of yourself to everyone in the room, and taken a piece of them with you. 

This invisible bond we share when we gather is profound and undeniable, and it’s all part of something bigger. We’re not just talking; we’re exchanging ideas, energy, even the air we breathe. And in those intimate spaces, something shifts. Sometimes, the walls between us disappear, and it’s clear: we’re all in this together. That’s what real gathering is about — stepping into a space where something real and surprising can unfold. A space where curiosity sparks and unfolds into clear paths and purposeful steps.

In our closing circle, Rob shared something that resonated with all of us. In a world often marked by division and polarization, he finds hope and inspiration in moments like these, where people come together with a shared intention to bring something good into the world. Observing the diverse group gathered — each person with unique questions, challenges, and aspirations — he noted how the collective energy served as a powerful reminder of our ability as humans to create meaning and connection. For Rob, these gatherings represent what’s possible when we focus on building bridges instead of walls. In these circles, the world feels a little more whole.

The twenty of us didn’t come together to network or play it safe. We came to wrestle with the big questions, to sit in the unknown, and to trust that maybe, just maybe, something would break open.

As I leave the café to catch my flight, the sun slipping behind the hills, I can’t shake the feeling that something bigger has unfolded. Of course I enjoyed the conversations and Rob’s presence. But it’s this other realization I can’t shake, that when people gather like we did, intentionally leaving room for not knowing, leaving room for something bigger to carry us, there’s real potential for something to shift. The twenty of us didn’t come together to network or play it safe. We came to wrestle with the big questions, to sit in the unknown, and to trust that maybe, just maybe, something would break open. Some of us left with a kind of clarity we didn’t know we needed. This is it; this is what it means to be human. To show up, to embrace the mess, and to let those raw, real moments crack us open, leading us somewhere deeper, somewhere more alive.

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