Burning Man impressions
Year after year, a friend of mine talked about the great transformative nature of going to Burning Man and kept encouraging me to give it a try. However, it wasn't until last year shortly after I moved to San Francisco that I finally had a chance to join him and to experience the event for myself. Now, after my second pilgrimage to the Black Rock Desert a few weeks ago, I've been trying and mostly failing to explain the phenomenon to everybody who would care to listen. And, although I understand that no words can possibly describe this experience with any reasonable degree of accuracy, I decided to share some of my observations about the festival with my dear LJ readers.
As most people would tell you, going to Burning Man is a very personal journey, which is also the reason why everybody has a different story to share. What you get out of it depends on the mood that you are in, the group of people you go with and your own willingness to fully immerse yourself in a completely new experience. In all honesty, last year it took me about a day and a half to finally let go of my fears and preconceptions and to start enjoying my time there. But once I did, in another day or so it actually started to seem inconceivable that anything of any note could possibly exist beyond the hills surrounding this isolated desert basin full of wonders.
To me, the main appeal of the event is that for just a week about 50,000 people manage to build an entire city, complete with clearly marked streets running in concentric semicircles, a series of official support structures, hundreds of surreal art installations spread out all over the place, stages for live performances of every kind, lectures, workshops, bars, discos, lounges and all sorts of theme camps that offer every service you could possibly imagine at no charge. This year, because I went for a whole week, I also got to see for myself how this complex infrastructure was being constructed only to be dismantled or burned to the ground at the end of the event. Partially, it is the acute awareness of the temporary nature of this city, as well as our own earthly existence, that gives Burning Man its power to help one experience life like never before.
On a more practical side, once you enter, money can only be used to buy ice and a small selection of drinks at the Central Camp, but everything else is offered either as a gift or an occasional barter. However, admission prices this year were $210-$295 depending on when you bought your ticket, $145 for low income participants and free for those who successfully applied for a scholarship. Aside from safety patrols and emergency services, you get to use the plentiful and regularly cleaned public toilets, but that's about the only convenience offered. It is your own responsibility to take care of your shelter, food, water and various supplies that you might need to sustain your existence for up to a week. Welcome to the world of radical self-reliance!
Camping in the desert is pretty tough with unrelenting heat during the day, chilly nights and frequent dust storms so intense that you can barely see your own outstretched arm. After a day or two, you get used to the fact that a thick layer of dust will cover everything, no matter how many Ziploc bags you are trying to use to protect your belongings. Still, there is something there that keeps thousands of people coming back in spite of all of these apparent hardships. In fact, there are those who live their entire year preparing and waiting for that one week when they can finally leave their daily lives behind and break free from so many of the constraints that the modern society imposes on us.
You can go to Burning Man just to see the art installations or to get high, but then you would be missing the point. You can come as a "tourist" just to get a glimpse of what it's like yet you can only get a real sense of the place through active participation, whether by volunteering, creating an art installation or being a part of a camp that is open to the public. And, contrary to popular belief, not everybody at BM uses controlled substances -- in fact, I know quite a few people who absolutely refuse simply out of principle and still manage to have a blast.
One thing that is particularly hard to describe is an elusive sense of community created by random people whom you would have probably never met in "real life" and whom you are not likely to encounter ever again. It is about strangers prone to random acts of kindness like offering you shelter and a drink during a dust storm, helping fix your bicycle, or giving you relationship advice or a heartfelt hug -- whatever you might need at the moment. Last year I met Jerry, a bartender at one of the bars, who found a way to explain to me what is so special about Burning Man. This year I met Andrea from the Bureau of Hospitality camp, and incidentally a real-life psychologist, who took the time to comfort me when I was feeling lonely and overwhelmed. It is these kinds of encounters that leave a trace forever.
On a deeply personal level, Burning Man awakens the child in me, gives me a sense of freedom to express myself in ways I don't dare anywhere else and, most importantly, allows me to live in the moment. Mundane activities like having a cup of hot soup or taking a shower suddenly become immensely more enjoyable. The intensity of experience of one day on the playa rivals that of an entire year in the "real world." Perhaps that's not for everyone, as it causes polar reactions -- people either love Burning Man with a passion or absolutely hate it.
They say that the second year is the best and I think that I really "got it" this time around. In a number of ways this was the best experience of my life. So powerful, in fact, that for the first time on my memory my ever present fear of death went away while I was there.
I've seen Burning Man completely change peoples' lives as well as alter or break relationships in ways that nobody could have possibly expected. Something there gives one an ability to see deep inside his soul and focus on the things that really matter. I made some realizations that shocked me, but mostly in a good way. Coming back to San Francisco, I feel more of a sense of purpose, less anxiety, more love towards humanity, more will to succeed. This year's Burning Man might not have been as visually spectacular as last year's yet I felt that it was more spiritual. But then again, those subjective impressions are always in the eye of the beholder.
Whatever your goals in life, I suggest that you visit Black Rock City at least once. Because, no matter how many people tell you about it, you will never know what you're missing until you try it for yourself. And perhaps the reason nobody can really tell you about it in words that would make sense is that it is an experience unlike any other that you might have had before.
As most people would tell you, going to Burning Man is a very personal journey, which is also the reason why everybody has a different story to share. What you get out of it depends on the mood that you are in, the group of people you go with and your own willingness to fully immerse yourself in a completely new experience. In all honesty, last year it took me about a day and a half to finally let go of my fears and preconceptions and to start enjoying my time there. But once I did, in another day or so it actually started to seem inconceivable that anything of any note could possibly exist beyond the hills surrounding this isolated desert basin full of wonders.
To me, the main appeal of the event is that for just a week about 50,000 people manage to build an entire city, complete with clearly marked streets running in concentric semicircles, a series of official support structures, hundreds of surreal art installations spread out all over the place, stages for live performances of every kind, lectures, workshops, bars, discos, lounges and all sorts of theme camps that offer every service you could possibly imagine at no charge. This year, because I went for a whole week, I also got to see for myself how this complex infrastructure was being constructed only to be dismantled or burned to the ground at the end of the event. Partially, it is the acute awareness of the temporary nature of this city, as well as our own earthly existence, that gives Burning Man its power to help one experience life like never before.
On a more practical side, once you enter, money can only be used to buy ice and a small selection of drinks at the Central Camp, but everything else is offered either as a gift or an occasional barter. However, admission prices this year were $210-$295 depending on when you bought your ticket, $145 for low income participants and free for those who successfully applied for a scholarship. Aside from safety patrols and emergency services, you get to use the plentiful and regularly cleaned public toilets, but that's about the only convenience offered. It is your own responsibility to take care of your shelter, food, water and various supplies that you might need to sustain your existence for up to a week. Welcome to the world of radical self-reliance!
Camping in the desert is pretty tough with unrelenting heat during the day, chilly nights and frequent dust storms so intense that you can barely see your own outstretched arm. After a day or two, you get used to the fact that a thick layer of dust will cover everything, no matter how many Ziploc bags you are trying to use to protect your belongings. Still, there is something there that keeps thousands of people coming back in spite of all of these apparent hardships. In fact, there are those who live their entire year preparing and waiting for that one week when they can finally leave their daily lives behind and break free from so many of the constraints that the modern society imposes on us.
You can go to Burning Man just to see the art installations or to get high, but then you would be missing the point. You can come as a "tourist" just to get a glimpse of what it's like yet you can only get a real sense of the place through active participation, whether by volunteering, creating an art installation or being a part of a camp that is open to the public. And, contrary to popular belief, not everybody at BM uses controlled substances -- in fact, I know quite a few people who absolutely refuse simply out of principle and still manage to have a blast.
One thing that is particularly hard to describe is an elusive sense of community created by random people whom you would have probably never met in "real life" and whom you are not likely to encounter ever again. It is about strangers prone to random acts of kindness like offering you shelter and a drink during a dust storm, helping fix your bicycle, or giving you relationship advice or a heartfelt hug -- whatever you might need at the moment. Last year I met Jerry, a bartender at one of the bars, who found a way to explain to me what is so special about Burning Man. This year I met Andrea from the Bureau of Hospitality camp, and incidentally a real-life psychologist, who took the time to comfort me when I was feeling lonely and overwhelmed. It is these kinds of encounters that leave a trace forever.
On a deeply personal level, Burning Man awakens the child in me, gives me a sense of freedom to express myself in ways I don't dare anywhere else and, most importantly, allows me to live in the moment. Mundane activities like having a cup of hot soup or taking a shower suddenly become immensely more enjoyable. The intensity of experience of one day on the playa rivals that of an entire year in the "real world." Perhaps that's not for everyone, as it causes polar reactions -- people either love Burning Man with a passion or absolutely hate it.
They say that the second year is the best and I think that I really "got it" this time around. In a number of ways this was the best experience of my life. So powerful, in fact, that for the first time on my memory my ever present fear of death went away while I was there.
I've seen Burning Man completely change peoples' lives as well as alter or break relationships in ways that nobody could have possibly expected. Something there gives one an ability to see deep inside his soul and focus on the things that really matter. I made some realizations that shocked me, but mostly in a good way. Coming back to San Francisco, I feel more of a sense of purpose, less anxiety, more love towards humanity, more will to succeed. This year's Burning Man might not have been as visually spectacular as last year's yet I felt that it was more spiritual. But then again, those subjective impressions are always in the eye of the beholder.
Whatever your goals in life, I suggest that you visit Black Rock City at least once. Because, no matter how many people tell you about it, you will never know what you're missing until you try it for yourself. And perhaps the reason nobody can really tell you about it in words that would make sense is that it is an experience unlike any other that you might have had before.