Time has made writing this somewhat less painful, though no less poignant. The sand and
wind may have erased the evidence, but the Playa remembers our footsteps and our
stories. This was my first burn and it's
taken over a month for my feelings and perspectives to properly soak in so that
I could share them with you. Enjoy it. Judge
it. But please at least read it.
I had no idea what to expect. Well, I had some
idea that I’d conjured up in my head - a desert of campers half naked,
half
stoned, sharing the earth for a week. I'd purposely refused to watch
the trailers or read more than I had to to come prepared. What I wasn't
expecting was the
openness, the acceptance and the placing aside of the real world's bullshit
for a week.
Burning Man came at a time in my life when I needed to cleanse my soul. Ironic
in a place where the closest thing to a shower is a foam party. Sure, what you’ve heard is true…some of the
best parts were the drinking and partying and dancing until dawn. It was a shitload of fun. But it was the
people, the music and the creative abandon of this transient place that truly captured
me.
Within hours of arrival, I found myself sitting on a couch next to a guy who
must have been growing his wildly colored dreads for a decade. Every
surface covered in tattoos and piercings. He was the guy my mom would've told
me never to sit by on the subway. But Burning Man encouraged me to hug
that man and hear his story and walk away thinking he was the most interesting
man on Earth.
Whether it was this tattooed man, the bartender who raised llamas or the British lawyer dressed in
harem pants...everyone had an amazing story and a different reason for being there. And the care these people put into celebrating what they have and each other was astonishing. I
don’t care what you've heard, 68,000 people living together without
significant crime, no form of currency and very little trace of waste is
impressive. Hats
off to us, damnit. Imagine if every person in the world put that much
effort into the world we live in the other 51 weeks of the year. Fuck
the world would be great!
Most of my time was spent mesmerized by the imagination of people. In the
real world you run into brilliance
and knowledge and intellect a lot, but you run into less and less
creativity. The real world is
tired, sold out, and bored. Burning Man? Picture Peter Pan's Neverland... But better.
Because the grownups haven't forgotten how to believe in fairies and magic; they've
turned a scrap of dirt into a real life Neverland where you could
board a plane to Pandora, ride inside a giant glowing fish blaring disco music
or dance in homage to the rising sun among monkeys, unicorns and purple dragons.
People who talk about Burning Man reference the movie-themed Thunderdome, the
orgy camps and the wasteful, rich camper vans that are "ruining the
neighborhood."
People overlook the smaller theme camps where
imagination is living and breeding and spreading. I walked down the street one day wistfully
wishing I’d brought more costumes only to be accosted by a leprechaun who asked
me to be in a fashion show. Without question I said “yes” (the favored word of
Burning Man) and was led into a room filled with crazy clothes to select an outfit
and parade it down a handmade runway.
And after that final twirl, I stepped off the runway and continued down
the street ecstatic in my new do that was magically mine to keep!
And then there’s the Playa, where
the million dollar art cars and sound camps and Temple get a lot of the love. And please believe... I loved them too.
Open your eyes and ears to the random smattering of art structures that appear out of nowhere or the DJ that took
his four-wheel van and turned it into a narwhal that played the best beats I heard all
week. Move over Skrillex; meet DJ Little John.
Photo Credit: Matt McConnell
Photo Credit: Matt McConnell
Which brings me to my favorite part: the music. As a rabid music connoisseur, I
read through the Burning Man booklet of "DJs and bands" that would be
playing throughout the week and of hundreds of artists, I recognized one. Problem?
Hell no! I was so stoked to see what new tracks I’d uncover.
I've often wish for a "soundtrack to my life” and this was the first
time I encountered one. From dawn ‘til dusk ‘til dawn again there was music.
Drum lines, acoustic guitar, dance, and deep deep house.
Photo Credit: Matt McConnell
Walk a block; hear
something different. And it wasn't just the sound. It was the feel and visuals of the music…Lasers,
lights, smoke and hypnotic soul-soaked bass. At night, Burning Man became a world of
music made physical for us all to share and revel in. Headphones not included, only music that could
be experienced together.
The magic hour was near sunrise when the music lured the faithful out to the
deep Playa. I’d look around and see nameless faces on bikes cycling silently
towards an unseen destination with only music to light the way. As the sky turned to pink, the music would
change its tempo, its volume, its mood and the crescendo would come to pops of
champagne and cheers as the sun crested the flat horizon. Each dark night leading to another dazzling
day. I’d snatch at that moment
like a
child chasing glow bugs, hoping to capture the feeling and internalize
it deep down inside me where I could turn to it and remember long after
this fleeting world was gone.
Some of us came to Burning Man to temporarily run
away (I know I did) but I think we can all agree that we found
ourselves running TOWARDS something instead - understanding, friendship, love,
peace. At least those are the things I
walked away with. An understanding of a world outside of my NYC bubble.
Friendship and love for a group of people I’d known for days and will cherish
for decades. And an inner peace that I return to on rainy days when work or
love or friendship sucks. A peace that reminds me that each day is what I make
of it. Whether it's having the balls to make a friend of a subway stranger or
be open to love from an unexpected place, I left with my eyes and heart open.
And I count the days until I can cleanse this soul in fire on the sands of the Playa.
The media, the rich, and even the original hippies are all responsible for diluting
the meaning of Burning Man. The
media
portrays it as a pagan sex camp, the rich introduce campers and showers
and waste, and the original hippies bitch about “how it used to
be.” I challenge anyone to say that
Burning Man is going to shit. Maybe for
you. But that doesn’t mean that others
can’t experience it and feel something about it for themselves. For those of you who might only experience it
through word of mouth or blogs or YouTube, I implore you to ponder these final
thoughts before forming an opinion and maybe, just maybe, try it. I was scared shitless and I'm SO glad I did it.
-
We can be whatever community we want to be; we just have to try.
-
The person you least expect is probably the most interesting one. We all
judge. Yes, even you.
-
You never know when and where love and friendship will find you. Leave
yourself open to be surprised.
-
Spend less time worried about other people’s motives and bullshit. Focus on
your own and leave it all on the table.
I'll
end with a special shout-out to the artists, musicians and people that I
met throughout my week at Burning Man. Be sure that you each left your
unique mark on me and you won't be forgotten. From family dinners to
clumsy bike rides to early mornings dancing to the music of the
Narwhal... "Happy New Year." I look forward to seeing you all again
next burn.
Photo Credit: Matt McConnell
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