--in which I attempt to put my Burning Man experience partially into words
[This is not the entry where I tell stories, or talk about the art. This is me trying to chronicle my experience from an intellectual, emotional, psychological, and spiritual standpoint.]
Firstly, I shall begin by saying that one can tell stories of being there, and do those stories justice. One can show photos of the artwork or the art cars, and possibly do them justice. One can draw diagrams and point to maps, explain the dust and chronicle the events. But I have not yet figured out a way to describe being there. It's one of those transcendent experiences that defies the language barrier.
Perhaps because it was my first year. Ask me in a year's time and I'll have a better idea.
Alea Iacta Est.
Translation: The die is cast.
Since becoming single last year, I have been on a journey of transition, self-discovery, realization, and identity. Call it a quarter-life crisis if you choose. Whatever you wish to call it, I opened myself up to many new experiences between last summer and this Summer, all of which seemed to bring me into contact with--or closer in contact with--people who go to Burning Man. I began hearing more about it than what I had heard, and hearing about it from these amazing, intense, vibrant individuals who captivated me with their energies and their lives. The more people I started talking to who revealed themselves as Burners, the more I got a picture of what it might be like to go.
Along the way, I had several important changes. The most significant of which was learning to let go of the enormous amount of bitterness I wasn't even aware I was carrying. That's another entry, so I won't get into it here. Suffice it to say I became a much more positive and open person because of the people who let me into their lives.
All of these changes brought about a sense of a New Me. So much so, that when I decided to go to Burning Man, I did it with the knowledge that the Old Me would never have even considered it for whatever reason, and that the decision itself was indicative of my change. As the date approached, and as I learned more about myself and the event, and about all the other people I'd be with, I came to see my trip to the Playa as The End Of The Beginning Of The "New Me." What this meant, exactly, is hard to quantify. But I billed it as such in my head, essentially signifying that after this I would have a concrete experience in my life as this New Me, something definitive and real, with pictures and stories, to point to as a pivotal moment in my transition to being a new, better, happier, and more substantial person.
I also was able to apply a perspective on Burning Man to my life in general enough in advance that I was easily able to apply it to my experience there. "Prepare. Don't plan." Simple enough. Prepare for everything you can think of, but don't plan on anything. Allow the Universe to take me on a journey, and go along for the ride. Allow myself to be changed by the event with no preconceived notions of how, when, where, or why I would be changed. Just open myself to possibilities. As part of this, I had a secondary goal: Say "yes." Unless it ranked a 9 or a 10 on the Do Not Want scale, I told myself to say yes. And retrospectively, I am incredibly glad I went out there with those thoughts.
What happened to me there, in the macroscopic sense of the term, cannot be put into words. My experience will never be repeated, cannot be accurately shared, and was unique to me. "Every man makes his own Universe based on the world as he sees it" wrote Douglas Addams in Hitchhiker's Guide, and it's true. Nobody else had my experience, although some had very similar ones. But mine reawakened some parts of me that had slept, lying dormant, until then. Other parts of me were brought up to unexpected levels, and a lot of my preconceived notions about the world, the people in my world, and the way I treated certain things, were challenged. As my "rules" were challenged, I found myself instantly allowing my mind the freedom to reanalyze them with no judgment of the past or reflections on myself. I simply accepted that who and how I was then was necessary to bring me to the point I am at now, and that it's perfectly acceptable to reposition oneself amidst a sea of change, and to adopt new philosophies as one matures into an adult.
The people I met (Oh, the people I met...) reinforced this with their own overwhelming positivity and warmth. To feel so instantly HOME was this amazing feeling that cannot be rivaled or quantified. Habits of everyday life were unlearned in a heartbeat, old ways of thinking reprogrammed in the span of a week (or less, often).
It didn't really "hit me" at first though. Some people had it "hit them," by this I mean the significance of where they were and how it was affecting them, early on in the week. I didn't get it until midway through. I was at the Temple of Flux, and reading the messages on the wall. Hoarse from overusing my voice and the dust coating my throat, I wasn't talking if I could help it. I just walked around reading everything that people wrote. It was there and then that I realized the significance of this place. How spiritually and energetically charged it is to so many people, and how crucial it is to be the kind of person who can be open to these experiences instead of forcing life to conform to these 90-degree angles and half-hour time blocks. It hit me there just how much we as human beings have a capacity for. Love, hate, humor, sadness, awe. What I was overcome by there was a sense of the Awesome, in the original sense of the word. And a feeling of being filled with so much raw emotion, raw energy, that...hell, even now I can't explain what it was like.
Somebody asked me why people seem to always dress up in costume out there. I thought for a moment and responded by explaining that people wear what they wear (or don't wear) out there because it's what they wear in the default world that's the costume. And that's one of the many things I realized upon returning, was that here in the default world is where so many of us are in costume, and it's out there where we take it off.
I had numerous Playa epiphanies while there. Moments of clarity that were not subtle in the slightest. Ways to improve myself, the realization that the reasons I have for not dating anybody seriously are Bullshit Nobility, how easy it is to take lessons from the Playa home, et cetera.
I could continue rambling ad nauseum here, but I'm oddly feeling quite tired. Time to bring this to a close.
The more at home I became on the Playa, the more I connected with people and really felt like I was starting to get it, the later in the week it became. Along with that was the knowledge that somehow I'd have to explain the experience to people when I got home. As hard as I tried, I couldn't--and still can't--think of a way to explain to people what it's like to be there, what it's like to open yourself up to going through the experiences that one encounters there. All I could think to say was, and is, "I get it now." All the years of hearing about it, the months of preparing, the conversations with people who have been there for years, why they keep going back, what they're getting out of it. I get it now.
I understand what happened to Roman after last year's Burn, and why he had to make some of the changes he made. I hope I can be as brave as he was and make even some of the changes that I need to make in my life now. I think I am, and if I draw my inspiration from those who have already done it I know I will be.
As I sat in my father's minivan, loaded up with gear, clothing, Jean, Roman, Matt and myself, and several layers of playa dust, I had one final Playa epiphany.
This was not The End Of The Beginning Of The New Me.
This is a whole new beginning. I had made the journey, come out clean (and dusty!) on the other side, and felt like a wholly new version of myself all over again. I made the decision to go, followed through with it, and can now add the moniker of Burner to my list of ways to describe myself. It's no longer about thinking of it, wanting it, preparing for it, or getting to it. Now, I've done it. And can't wait to do it again.
Alea Iacta Est.
Firstly, I shall begin by saying that one can tell stories of being there, and do those stories justice. One can show photos of the artwork or the art cars, and possibly do them justice. One can draw diagrams and point to maps, explain the dust and chronicle the events. But I have not yet figured out a way to describe being there. It's one of those transcendent experiences that defies the language barrier.
Perhaps because it was my first year. Ask me in a year's time and I'll have a better idea.
Alea Iacta Est.
Translation: The die is cast.
Since becoming single last year, I have been on a journey of transition, self-discovery, realization, and identity. Call it a quarter-life crisis if you choose. Whatever you wish to call it, I opened myself up to many new experiences between last summer and this Summer, all of which seemed to bring me into contact with--or closer in contact with--people who go to Burning Man. I began hearing more about it than what I had heard, and hearing about it from these amazing, intense, vibrant individuals who captivated me with their energies and their lives. The more people I started talking to who revealed themselves as Burners, the more I got a picture of what it might be like to go.
Along the way, I had several important changes. The most significant of which was learning to let go of the enormous amount of bitterness I wasn't even aware I was carrying. That's another entry, so I won't get into it here. Suffice it to say I became a much more positive and open person because of the people who let me into their lives.
All of these changes brought about a sense of a New Me. So much so, that when I decided to go to Burning Man, I did it with the knowledge that the Old Me would never have even considered it for whatever reason, and that the decision itself was indicative of my change. As the date approached, and as I learned more about myself and the event, and about all the other people I'd be with, I came to see my trip to the Playa as The End Of The Beginning Of The "New Me." What this meant, exactly, is hard to quantify. But I billed it as such in my head, essentially signifying that after this I would have a concrete experience in my life as this New Me, something definitive and real, with pictures and stories, to point to as a pivotal moment in my transition to being a new, better, happier, and more substantial person.
I also was able to apply a perspective on Burning Man to my life in general enough in advance that I was easily able to apply it to my experience there. "Prepare. Don't plan." Simple enough. Prepare for everything you can think of, but don't plan on anything. Allow the Universe to take me on a journey, and go along for the ride. Allow myself to be changed by the event with no preconceived notions of how, when, where, or why I would be changed. Just open myself to possibilities. As part of this, I had a secondary goal: Say "yes." Unless it ranked a 9 or a 10 on the Do Not Want scale, I told myself to say yes. And retrospectively, I am incredibly glad I went out there with those thoughts.
What happened to me there, in the macroscopic sense of the term, cannot be put into words. My experience will never be repeated, cannot be accurately shared, and was unique to me. "Every man makes his own Universe based on the world as he sees it" wrote Douglas Addams in Hitchhiker's Guide, and it's true. Nobody else had my experience, although some had very similar ones. But mine reawakened some parts of me that had slept, lying dormant, until then. Other parts of me were brought up to unexpected levels, and a lot of my preconceived notions about the world, the people in my world, and the way I treated certain things, were challenged. As my "rules" were challenged, I found myself instantly allowing my mind the freedom to reanalyze them with no judgment of the past or reflections on myself. I simply accepted that who and how I was then was necessary to bring me to the point I am at now, and that it's perfectly acceptable to reposition oneself amidst a sea of change, and to adopt new philosophies as one matures into an adult.
The people I met (Oh, the people I met...) reinforced this with their own overwhelming positivity and warmth. To feel so instantly HOME was this amazing feeling that cannot be rivaled or quantified. Habits of everyday life were unlearned in a heartbeat, old ways of thinking reprogrammed in the span of a week (or less, often).
It didn't really "hit me" at first though. Some people had it "hit them," by this I mean the significance of where they were and how it was affecting them, early on in the week. I didn't get it until midway through. I was at the Temple of Flux, and reading the messages on the wall. Hoarse from overusing my voice and the dust coating my throat, I wasn't talking if I could help it. I just walked around reading everything that people wrote. It was there and then that I realized the significance of this place. How spiritually and energetically charged it is to so many people, and how crucial it is to be the kind of person who can be open to these experiences instead of forcing life to conform to these 90-degree angles and half-hour time blocks. It hit me there just how much we as human beings have a capacity for. Love, hate, humor, sadness, awe. What I was overcome by there was a sense of the Awesome, in the original sense of the word. And a feeling of being filled with so much raw emotion, raw energy, that...hell, even now I can't explain what it was like.
Somebody asked me why people seem to always dress up in costume out there. I thought for a moment and responded by explaining that people wear what they wear (or don't wear) out there because it's what they wear in the default world that's the costume. And that's one of the many things I realized upon returning, was that here in the default world is where so many of us are in costume, and it's out there where we take it off.
I had numerous Playa epiphanies while there. Moments of clarity that were not subtle in the slightest. Ways to improve myself, the realization that the reasons I have for not dating anybody seriously are Bullshit Nobility, how easy it is to take lessons from the Playa home, et cetera.
I could continue rambling ad nauseum here, but I'm oddly feeling quite tired. Time to bring this to a close.
The more at home I became on the Playa, the more I connected with people and really felt like I was starting to get it, the later in the week it became. Along with that was the knowledge that somehow I'd have to explain the experience to people when I got home. As hard as I tried, I couldn't--and still can't--think of a way to explain to people what it's like to be there, what it's like to open yourself up to going through the experiences that one encounters there. All I could think to say was, and is, "I get it now." All the years of hearing about it, the months of preparing, the conversations with people who have been there for years, why they keep going back, what they're getting out of it. I get it now.
I understand what happened to Roman after last year's Burn, and why he had to make some of the changes he made. I hope I can be as brave as he was and make even some of the changes that I need to make in my life now. I think I am, and if I draw my inspiration from those who have already done it I know I will be.
As I sat in my father's minivan, loaded up with gear, clothing, Jean, Roman, Matt and myself, and several layers of playa dust, I had one final Playa epiphany.
This was not The End Of The Beginning Of The New Me.
This is a whole new beginning. I had made the journey, come out clean (and dusty!) on the other side, and felt like a wholly new version of myself all over again. I made the decision to go, followed through with it, and can now add the moniker of Burner to my list of ways to describe myself. It's no longer about thinking of it, wanting it, preparing for it, or getting to it. Now, I've done it. And can't wait to do it again.
Alea Iacta Est.