Untitled
by Super Dave
I left San Rafael about 8PM with my friends Chris and Kathy Sue. After
a stop at a casino in Reno, we headed into the desert. The dry lake bed
is in the upper West corner of Nevada, high mountains and 2000 acres of
nothing but fine alkali dust, like walking on coarse flour. The heat stayed
about 100 to 110 in the shade most of the day with the nights dropping
to 55 or so.
We spent about an hour after leaving the highway going through a couple
of small towns and nothing to come into a glow from the 15 thousand people
already there. From bedrolls to million dollar motor homes, and absolutely
everything in between. I won't bore you with photos as there are many,
many web sites you can visit.
We pulled into camp as the mountain peaks let little slivers of light
through their grasp. The valley started to glow and within minutes thousands
of cheers and music filled the air, not from those rising from a night's
rest, but those still up, waiting for a sign to retire for the day. The
heat comes on like a furnace on overdrive. There is just nothing you can
do as hot fingers of dry desert heat grasp everything like an octopus,
heat is everywhere, shade becomes a battlefield and water is the weapon
of choice as you begin to realize you have never felt such a pure form
of Mother Nature's warmth.
Lay naked in the desert and you will become dehydrated in a few hours,
your skin will crack in a day and you will die some time in the night.
Mother Nature takes no prisoners. Your only chance of survival is water,
water with shade and you will survive, water, shade, food, music, wild
cars, crazy costumes, six foot motorized hobby horses, 25,000 people,
non stop motion and every chemical known to the back rooms of nightclubs
and you have Burning Man. You survive, you survive with the feeling of
25,000 warm and caring souls who have all come to the desert to celebrate
life, to celebrate art, personal expression, group expression and each
other. 25,000 people holding hands without touching, talking without words
and loving each other for just being.
Burning Man cannot be expressed with words or photos, it cannot be recorded
nor played back except in the minds of the participants, each version
is unique and ever changing. Burning Man is an experience that recharges
the soul like an old bicycle pump you thought was broken, the vast nothing
swells to become everything, your soul fills to the brim and you realize
while old bicycle pump may look rough, some may have thrown it away and
others would pass it by, it still works, it pumps up your soul so you
may ride among the others that already know what a powerful place this
is. One more stroke and the tire fills with air, a little whoosh, the
pump is off the valve and you are free, riding on a cloud of love that
cannot be seen, that will escape if released, that was placed there through
the efforts of many, love that is borrowed without interest and lent expecting
no return. I will return to Burning Man. It will never be the same, it
will be better, if the rain comes and the wind blows everything away it
will be fine, if you can touch it, it really doesn't matter, if you can
hold it, it is not there and if you can see it, it is only an illusion.
Burning Man is not words or photos, Burning Man is love, pure love. The
sights and sounds are works in a museum. They will change and the next
director will place new works in it's place. New eyes will see what old
eyes remember, but it will always be different, so different it will be
the same. Hours of preparation, thousands of dollars, all paid for by
the soul for there is no money at Burning Man.
Burning Man left me with a feeling of happiness and solution. Burning
man is a place of material expression and emotional paints. Broad strokes
fill every sense with sounds and sights too varied for any collection,
too bold to catalog, too free to contain.
Burning Man takes place nowhere and everywhere. Hover a few inched off
the Playa and you will see nothing for many miles. There is nothing, Burning
Man is one large blank canvas painted not with oils but energy from the
participants that pass through it's gate. Like holding a rave in a Zen
garden, it will return to nature's peace and violence. It will be drowned
by the rains and baked by the sun. But it's surface will be clean, it
is blank above the surface and somewhere cool, quiet and far away it is
being prepared once again to rise like a tie dyed phoenix from the desert.
Burning Man has touched me in a way I may never fully understand. I walked
through Burning Man with an escort provided by the energy and love of
a source that may never be known. The sounds and sights on the Playa paled
in comparison, the world had collapsed to one. I spent hours on the Playa
my last day there, hours compressed to near seconds so overwhelming that
I am afraid to wind the clock nor set the alarm. Time flows through the
Playa like molasses in a freezer, a freezer going over the Niagara Falls.
I can look though my mind and there will always be my escort standing
in the shadows. I hope the sun will shine upon those shadows, I would
like to see her face again.
