I have to confess, I’ve struggled supremely in any attempts to begin to put words to my Burning Man experience. And yet here I begin.
One of the hardest things about talking about Burning Man, is that what you experienced out there was just so entirely outside of our normal parameters of existence, that we really don’t have any familiar frames of reference. You truly have to experience it to get it. But to say that to someone can make you seem a little full of it. I remember tiring of hearing people return from the Playa with incessant talk of all the things they miss about Burning Man – I mean, you were only there for a week bro! But there truly is something about BM that just gets under your skin. One guy remarked to me, that if you bring a partner to BM,one week on the Playa is like two years of real life, in terms of the stage of the relationship you will be at. I felt a connection to that statement. Life on the Playa is one intense roller coaster. You might feel the happiest you’ve ever felt in your life as you sit and watch the sunrise with four of your new best friends, but then that afternoon you might breakdown in Deep Playa (way far out in the desert) because you’re completely fucking lost, a dust storm is tornado-ing through, and you’ve just finished the last of your water. But as you sit on your knees and sob into the desert, the dust will settle, and you’ll look up to see a pirate ship rolling to you across the desert, serving up ice cold margaritas with thumping electronic music. You will not know how to feel most of the time. But you learn to embrace the uncertainty. “The great mystery of modernity is that we think of certainty as an attainable state.” What’s so unique about BM is that it is entirely co-created by the participants. The art installations you see, someone brought with them just for you to enjoy. The cocktails you’re sipping, someone brought from home just to make your day a little brighter. The love potion around your neck, the postcard you sent to your friend across the Playa, the funky new Playa haircut you’re sporting, they were all ideas that one person decided to bring to life, just for your entertainment. And every single thing is free. There is no expectation of reciprocity, a gift is simply a gift, for the sake of giving, a gesture of sincerity and beautiful simplicity. But what got me hooked on BM more than anything was it’s honest raw imperfection. It’s not always fun, and it’s not always pleasant. There are times when the doof doof and the incessant neon lights just get too much, when you think you can’t stand to see another fluffy green bicycle ride by you. But to me this symbolized that nothing is perfect; life will rock and roll ya, but it’s still a pretty fantastic journey. On the Playa, as in life, people will come into your life just when you most need them. In my experience, I felt the Playa opened us all up to one another, making us miles more approachable and uninhibited in engaging with others. When boys were getting me down, a 60 year old man took me for a ride in his art car and gave me an hours’ worth of unsolicited but perfectly timed advice about how I shouldn’t settle for any young man who doesn’t treat me like a goddess. So priceless. Another time I fell into stride with a young man in the night, who, when I said my buzz was protecting the environment, talked my ear off about Derrick Jensen, one of my favourite radical green authors. One of the few things I jotted in my journal – “So many feelings swirling around. But mostly I am feeling strong, beautiful and confident.” The encounters you have with perfect strangers are so interesting, so mutually reinforcing, you can’t help but find personal growth out there. “I have just dropped into the very place I have been seeking, but in everything it exceeds all my dreams.” – Isabella Bird. For those who don’t know, the two big events of BM are the burning of the Man on the Saturday night, and the burning of the Temple on the Sunday. This year the Man stood on top of a giant wooden spaceship, which you could line up to enter, and there was more art inside (plus you got to slide down a great big slide to exit). The entire structure, around 30m tall, was made without a single nail or other non-wood element. Amazing. And boy could it burn!! Amid one of the punchiest fireworks shows I’ve ever seen, we watched the Man burn… gradually one arm fell… then the second… then a bang! and the entire structure was engulfed in flames. You could feel the heat wave from 500m away. And then there was the Temple. This year this was a giant pyramid, in the center of which was a large stone sculpture, and in every nook and cranny, candles, notes, letters, pieces of clothing… anything that somebody feels the need to say goodbye to. A series of soft gongs ring out every few minutes, but otherwise it is completely silent. An oasis in the sea of sound that is the rest of the Playa. People pray, meditate, write, think, sleep, on the floor throughout. The energy is so intense; even if you thought you came to BM with no emotional baggage, the Temple will get something out of ya. Then came Sunday. Everyone expected the Temple to burn around 9pm. At 8.15, as I’m cooking chicken, someone calls out “it’s on fire!” I was devastated. The four of us from the kitchen climbed the scaffolding of the Sound Camp to get a view. And I realised that I was in fact seeing something very, very special. Because of the confusion around timing, so many people had missed the start of the burn, and were now hustling to get there. So I was witness to a sea of thousands of people and bikes streaming in from all directions, descending upon the biggest and most beautiful fire. It was breath taking. One of the debates on the playa this year was about so-called “turn-key”, rich kid camps, where the guests pay a bunch of money to have all their needs met – RVs, shade, water, food, and often showers and bars. These present an interesting moral challenge, because on the one hand this blatantly contradicts the BM principle of self-reliance, yet on the other hand, to use this as a basis to exclude them would contradict another of the BM principles, radical inclusion. I had a unique firsthand perspective on this, as I had received a free ticket in exchange for working in a catering team for one of these camps. These lads had flown to Black Rock City airport (yes, the festival has it’s own airport!!) in their private jets, telling me, “it’s the only way really,” and they had camp staff making sure their bar was stocked and that everything was as comfortable as possible for them at all times. The whole atmosphere in their camp was just so un-Burning Man, it was refreshing every time I stepped out of it, even to go next door to the lemonade stand. Yet, I truly do hope that a little of BM might have rubbed off on these guys. As many others have pointed out, the world needs for more of those rich kids to experience BM. If even a little of the tolerance, open mindedness and spirit of generosity rubbed off on them, it has to be a good thing. And I think if anywhere is going to change them, this is the place; as much as you can try to insulate yourself with your luxuries, the reality is you’re still on the Playa. The moment you step out of that yurt and into the street, the madness of it all is gonna slap you in the face. And Burners don’t allow spectating – if you’re there, you’re getting roped into whatever flavour of crazy is going down. My first burn was one hell of a ride. I worked my ass off cooking three meals a day in the scorching desert sun amid dust storms and sometimes demanding rich kids. I partied like nobody’s business. I hung upside down from a giant couch with a guy who had helped build the Temple. I fell from a moving art car. I had a nineteen year old male stripper fall for me, telling me that he had never felt that way about a girl before. I drank 42 below vodka and ate a vegemite sandwich with a bunch of Aussies n Kiwis. I cuddled a guy called Happy in the midst of a white out, and covered him in dust so that he could see himself without tattoos for the first time in years. I cheered the sun down every night, and danced it back up again. I made friends with people with names like Mammoth, and was given the Playa name Serendipity Giggles. I wore pasties for the first time, and posed for topless photos with a girl from Sacramento in the morning sunshine. I giggled when someone asked me, “have you fallen in love yet today?”, and then wondered why I hadn’t. I drank whiskey with old men, and coffee with young men. I danced in a camp called Slut Garden. I listened to TED talks live at Playa School. I found myself a lift to Vancouver, and a place to live once I got there. I burned money, then watched some guys attempt to snort the ash. I handed out iceblocks during one of the hottest afternoons of the week. I got used to baby wipe showers, and then moaned with joy when I had my first real shower. I wrote in my journal “I am in love with Black Rock City.” Would I say BM changed my life? Probably not. But frankly my life didn’t need changing. It was an absolutely amazing experience, surrounded by the most wonderful of people, something which I will never forget. And I will definitely, definitely be back.
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I am a conservation field worker in New Zealand. I love mountains, sunrises, river swims, barefeet, cold beer, campfires, live music and whiskey. Archives
December 2014
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