B u r n l o g

I’ve been struggling to understand Burning Man enough to explain it to those not blessed with attendance this year.

Maybe most will throw that old “half empty” glass at me when I begin to describe it in terms of difficulty. Yet, I find it the quickest route to my gleeful why and how of Burning Man.

After all, Burning Man really is no baby stroll in the park. You must be prepared for all kinds of extreme conditions and have a lot of water and gear. You may not get past the gate if you can’t prove you’re prepared.

Honestly, you’ve gotta bust your ass to get out there, break your back (sweating over rebar and straining under temporary structures) to get your camp set up in the desert heat/sand storms/rabid dust devils/occasional rain (& immolation), all the while dealing with the crankiness of acclimating to high desert and severely dusty conditions.

It’s a bitch really. For most, trekking there is an exhausting march and leaving too can be hard as separation anxiety sets in while the single car exodus from Black Rock City for many folks exceeds 10 hours!

Yet, the glorious days in between make it worth the effort. In fact, the pain and difficulty are essential to the experience. The struggles along with sleep and food deprivation, all day everyday physical exertion, occasional (or chronic) drug ingestion, and sun and weather bombardments, they all slap you silly into a sort of cult-like high.

The misery delirium at the outset forces you to give in and accept a new reality where devoting your time, energy, and love is normal, accepting others’ gifts are done so readily without the need of immediately returning the favor, and art and human expression in any form is a beautiful necessity.

And there are so many beautiful people in a state of freedom, openness, and ecstasy out there! Nobody cared what you looked like or were doing as long as you were doing something fun and creative and generally being happy. Why not strive toward that in our daily lives?

I practically forgot about my birthday on the Playa. It seemed meaningless and was lost in more important activities like which costume to wear tonight and how far out to the deep Playa can we ride, or just what crazy art and people will we connect with after leaving camp (and in camp too)?

What a wonderful, irreverant, blissed-out time! Here’s an article from Mark Morford, SF Gate Columnist, that catches the magic:

One More Vital Pagan Orgy
Sex, drugs and glow sticks: Our columnist survives yet another Burning Man, perspective intact

Oh sure you’ve got your giant floating neon dragons and your epic desert sculptures and your hissing Mad Max-ish art cars shooting flames 400 feet into the air, and every single thing everywhere smells like some combination of sweat and dust and marijuana and urine and fire and tequila and glue.

And sure there’s your rampant glittering nudity and writhing all-night dancing and improvised kitchen-sink costumes and sudden vicious unrelenting alkali dust storms that could choke a cow and make your throat feel like it’s been rubbed with sandpaper and your eyes dream of saline solution. This is pretty much a given…

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