Man Down
Strip. Dance. Burn.
Although never really on my dance card, I headed to Burning Man for the first time this year as a family trip. Flying across country, hauling provisions from LA, picking up an RV in Vegas and road tripping to Black Rock City while picking up others along the way … coordinating complex logistics was a thrill.
Organized radical self-reliance and leave no trace spoke to the boy scout in me. No commercialization and money free? Yes, please. Total creative freedom, communal responsibility and come as you are? I already felt home and I hadn’t gotten there yet.
Being prepared for the harsh environment was well within my domain. Having an outfit for an on-playa sunrise wedding… that was going to be fun to plan. Then came surprisingly acute pressure about what I would wear for fun and self expression. It was certainly an opportunity to be bold, even outrageous. But my style has never been bold and I felt no calling to be outrageous. I’m happy to put on any event appropriate costume and even enjoy playing dress up.
Where did this assault come from? On top of the expected social media strain, there was direct pressure from those whose opinions I valued. I understood that my own insecurities influenced and became fused to the burden. I couldn’t shake the idea that somehow I had to compete with the sparkle stallions. How embarrassing. I would have felt more accepted if I was riding a twelve-foot unicycle wearing a self-spinning tutu with a baby pacifier hanging from one pierced nipple. I felt defeated.
I always looked at style as curating a lifestyle. Fashion was just something that you wore that someone else created for the masses. Its main purpose is to generate revenue by dividing and excluding. Finally, I had to announce, mostly to myself, that I just didn’t want to look like a gay Mad Max. I settled into this conflict and locked it up inside. I brought what I wanted and also inherited some playa approved apparel for which I was grateful. Secretly I also included something that I wanted to be seen in. I won’t say what it was. I’m not ready. I never wore it or other things I carefully packed as I learned you really don’t need much.
We attended the first burn of the week as the sun set. I didn’t know it at the time but there was great debate about allowing it to proceed because of the developing sandstorm. The art project was a twenty-foot wooden sun. When it was first set on fire, the blowing wind amplified the flames coming off the sun’s rays. It was spectacular. When the whole thing finally fell the blowing sand was so strong it stung the eyes even under goggles. Because we were in the deep playa it was generally agreed that we should wait until the storm died down before we headed back to camp.
An hour or so later, most of us were huddled behind a large truck used for safety and maintenance. As many as could fit crammed inside the vehicle. The waiting turned to slight concern. Those of us who didn’t know better thought this was part of the performance. After a bit of additional debate, it was decided we should head back and wait no longer.
I was following a chain of bikes lit up like Christmas trees. The storm caused the lights to dim quickly as the column thinned out. The riding was tough; areas of soft sand caused the tires to slip. Dust had gotten into the mechanisms of my electric bike, causing it to accelerate randomly like a worn-out mechanical bull demanding one last performance.
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At one point, I looked back to make sure the person behind could still see me while trying not to lose sight of those in front. Self-reliance versus community. I tried to split the difference but wondered if the person in the lead had an accurate internal compass. I never felt like I was going to die. I was mostly smiling with the quiet excitement of a new adventure. However, I was aware that I could easily get lost, head in the wrong direction and end up spending the freezing night in a sandstorm.
When the lights of the city finally emerged, it was truly a night oasis. So much life where none should exist. The city did not welcome or even notice our return. It didn’t take long to merge back into the mirage. The next decision was ketamine, LSD, or MDMA. I’ll leave that there.
I was excited about the idea of discovery. Discovery in the city, discovery in the playa. Wandering around streets A to K and 2:00 to 10:00 promised endless discovery. Assembling a fully functioning city overnight would be the envy of any general in the Army Corps of Engineers. The assembled façade of creativity hanging on the supporting structure of box trucks and telehandlers was reflective of the cities the builders came from. Raw and inviting, a temporary fixture standing in for reality.
The expanse of the playa felt like the first time I looked out over the edge of a boat and saw nothing but endless ocean. Calming infinity with an occasional floating object. Even after zigzagging the playa for days, it still happened that I would come across an art structure seeming to appear only at that moment. I greeted most with head tilting curiously. Some hinted at me that I needed to interact with it to tease out its essence. Some ignored me saying they were waiting for someone else. I liked having that brief encounter with each like trying to talk to a foreigner in a foreign land never to see them again. I now wonder if some of them existed at all?
While in the city or out on the playa I was comforted by the thought that I had come home but not recognized by most. One person actually said I looked suburban. I think the dust had built up enough in my hair that it felt more of a comment about them than me.
When my high regard for all things logistical started to wear off, I had the distinct feeling I was attending a city-wide trade show. Each stall was vying for attention with nothing to sell but to recognize the desire for connection and admiration. One camp redirected foot traffic with a fake road damage sign. The uniqueness was impressive but I couldn’t help but feel the idea had been commoditized.
I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time, but my playa moment was when I met Diane. I didn’t actually learn her name but giving her one helps anchor the thought. I was standing near a tower structure in the playa that I decided not to climb but the others in my party did. While waiting, an older couple came up behind me. The man kept going and headed up the stairs of the structure. His partner stayed behind and we had a lovely conversation. They had been coming Burning Man for many years and had seen things change a lot.
We spoke about the foot issue that kept her from climbing the art along with her partner. She told me about their early experiences at these events. She had a gentle way of accepting the changes of the generations of participants. The radical acceptance she showed the sparkle ponies all around us was an antidote to some of the cynicism I was feeling but not admitting to. The playa was for everyone. I had already met a lot of wonderful people, hugged many of them. She was the first that seemed to truly embody acceptance through wisdom and experience. She had the air of serenity that comes from letting things go with a smile.
After I told her it was my first time, she said convincingly that she needed to give me something. It felt like my doctor writing me a script after I explained all my symptoms. She gifted me a necklace that I wear on occasion that no one sees.
I first read it as Stripdance Burn because well… because. Looking back at Diane who was dressed like someone I could have just met at Starbucks or my dentist’s office, I re-read it as Strip. Dance. Burn.
People came to Burning Man to build a sense of family. Those raised with a smothering sense of belonging can’t fully understand the longing. Some came to escape the pressure and routineness of everyday life. Some came to peacock their way to fame and fortune. Some came to escape pain, some to relive it. Acceptance. Defiance. Avoidance. The playa is an expanse that can absorb it all.
Strip away what was lost yesterday. Dance for today. Burn away the expectations of tomorrow. I am still stripping, learning to dance and want to burn much brighter.
