Burning Man was devastatingly beautiful and by the same token tragically challenging. Each person who travels to that dusty wasteland has their own tale to tell… but people; this event kicked my ass! I consider myself a camper, I’ve been camping since I was very young, but this is NOT camping.
Day one: I got completely lost! Being lost at Burning Man at night is a bit like being lost on the moon. I took an art car (shaped like a giant fish) to the middle of the Playa (without my bike) and then spent 4 hours walking aimlessly in circles (the city is set up in circles -circles and random triangles). I was without water, in below freezing temperatures; by the end of the night I felt completely defeated, exhausted, dehydrated, and sad. When I returned home I cried for nearly an hour -sobbed actually. The kind of crying you do when you’re a kid and you can hardly breath. I kept most of my camp awake during this time too (slight shame gulp). I think somehow this event triggered a primal fear. A fear of death, aloneness, and being consumed by the darkness in that cold night. They say you get the Burn you need not the one that you want; perhaps the point of this event is to die unto yourself. When I emerged from my little death I was so tender. I remained close to my loved ones and didn’t adventure as fully or wildly as I imagined I would.
The next day began with dust storms that lasted nearly 8 hours. Dust is a generous statement it is actually more like chalk. It is so thick that you can’t see 10 feet in front of you. It is as if you took two chalk board erasers and smashed them together in front of your face continually. The chalk cloud was all-present and consuming in every tent and dust mask. You breath it, you eat it, you snort it, you become it. Note: The dust stays in your lungs, nose, and eyes for a week following the event. During dust storms I would hunker down in a tent, listen to music (sometimes great music), and wait for the dust to stop its incessant blowing.
The highlights: There were gloriously beautiful naked people everywhere, epic costumes, and incredible art. In this strange dis-topia people were spontaneous, unhinged, and wildly generous all the while managing to just survive in the hot and cold dust bowl. Although the sun, wind, cold, and dryness feel as though they want to kill you (or just leave giant cracks in your feet), people still know how to play, climb, and create glorious ruckus’ on The Playa.
Would I go back? Maybe. A wise man said:
“I wouldn’t go back until I have seen every festival on the planet first- including Carnival!” I agree with him, there are a lot of places to see before returning to mercelessly flagellate oneself in this barren waste land on what is NOT A VACATION. (Wise man featured below).
What an adventure. In summary: I was turned over and butt fucked by the playa… and I enjoyed the torture (at times). There is nothing like this event on Earth. It is a once in a lifetime necessity to go. Bucket list item: checked.
Photo Credit: David Herschorn Check him out: http://photobohemia.com/
Love,
Sex Therapist, Founder of Conscious Burlesque
MA Contemplative Psychology, PhD (Pending)
Madame Merci is the founder of Conscious Burlesque®. She teaches Conscious Burlesque® workshops, offers private lessons, leads dance classes, and performs regularly.
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