Having two
Burns under my belt now in my virgin year, and it being some weeks
after the second with enough time for my thoughts to collect, I shall
attempt to set forth my personal reflections. Not that this will be
anything in the way of an article for someone looking into
participating in their first Burn, rather I hope to convey to the
community at large my loss for words. The two Burns I attended were
Scorched Nuts, a small Ohioan regional, and Alchemy, a Georgian
regional of sufficient magnitude as to be one of the largest regional
Burns in the country. The difference between the twain is
substantial, the former being small and intimate and the ability to
interact with virtually everyone there and in the latter case the
event was so large it would be impossible to have meaningful
interactions with everyone.
So I'll
start this retrospective in the middle with a phone call from someone
I had met at a non-Burn event:
“I had to
let you know that the text you sent me, 'Congratulations, you are the
recipient of my random note to let you know you're being thought of,'
came at a very low point in my day. I read that and remembered our
time at Pennsic and it just turned my attitude around, it turned a
bad day into a better day and I just can't express how it made me
feel in that moment.”
Now, I may
have paraphrased that a little, but it does sum up not just that
particular conversation but also several others I had since going to
Scorched Nuts. Since that Burn I had wanted to find a way to carry
forward some of the feeling or spirit of being part of a larger group
of people that at least to myself, was in the same alignment as I
was. People that wanted connection, mutual respect, believed that
the world could be a more loving place and all we had to do was bring
along some basic principles. So when my online social network
doubled during the week following my return from Scorched Nuts, and
in remembering people I interacted with on a personal level, I
started sending out simple messages like the one previously
mentioned. Most times with a similar response.
The actual
effect of that phone call didn't sink in at first. Then on my next
day of work, on the way in, on the interstate cruising along at 67mph
and passing milepost 11 that phone call and all the return messages
hit home. I teared up. Even now, reliving that moment to type this.
It is not an emotion I can define. The only thing I could think in
that moment was “What the hell? Nothing's wrong. Oh, damn I guess
I'm really a Burner after all.” Then I remembered something else I
was told, by yet another Burner I have yet to meet in person: “You
care, you're not like others, you'll shift the paradigm. (of the Burn
community)” (Again paraphrased, and the forum the conversation
happened on was deleted accidentally during a spam attack while most
of the moderators were at BRC) I almost didn't make it to work that
day. Not because I couldn't drive but because I wanted to explore
what this really meant. I was on the cusp of something, and knew it
was within reach at that moment. I think now it was an overwhelming
and profound feeling of relief. If that is indeed correct then I
have found one of the guideposts on my path and might be a step
closer to discovering what it is I am meant to do. I have been
reminded several times over the years that my Grandfather fully
believed that I was special, not just because I was the first
grandchild. He believed I was here to do something. I never refuted
that no matter how little faith I had in it at times.
Scorched
Nuts gave me a big lesson on permissiveness. That is, if there was
something you felt like doing, you had permission to go attempt it.
Within certain bounds of course. I spun poi for the first time in an
open social setting and caused a spin jam to break out. At first I
was weirded out, but no, that's what we do. Even my first
experiences on arriving were a little outside my comfort zone (ok,
way outside), but sometimes just can just hang it out there and good
things happen. I knew no-one, first Burn ever, but plenty of years
of camping and knowing how things can be made to work. I just
stopped my truck in the middle of the field near a shirtless guy in
shorts, gauged out ears, a mohawk, goatee and shades whose florid
companion was bald, wearing oakleys and a cowboy hat. They were
having a conversation about the infrastructure behind high fashion
showcases while unloading a white pickup and trailer. I grabbed
gloves and helped them erect the monkey hut, which I had only read
about but is so astoundingly simple that I quickly knew how things
went. I spent the remainder of the afternoon there swinging a hammer
or carrying stuff or just plain providing inspiration. “I have
some old stage curtains in a bin somewhere . . .” “We need
draperies of absurdness.” “Make it so.” And thus began
something of a personal meme, because there was the constant “now,
if we just had . . .” followed by me either rummaging through the
truck and producing said item, or later on after I had set up my own
camp hoofing it back to my tent and coming back. Everything from a
ceiling fan to a tire inflater.
It was also
a convenient base. There were people, experienced burners, and by
the evening knew me well enough, and I them. I hung around there
mostly, especially through the heat of the day. Shade on the shade
structure and all. I invented a game I called Battletiles out of a
Bananagrams set, was part of an idea team for a “Tick Inspection
Station” and at some point had enjoyed enough alcohol to have the
random urge to touch people and was instructed to go do so. So I
wandered around giving out neckrubs to willing participants making
many people moan in delight. On another occasion I loaded up a
garden sprayer with water and ice cubes, with the intention of hosing
down two people rassling in the sun (cold shower joke) and simply
being told no thanks, go have fun. So I did, and some people said
no, but were convinced otherwise. It was just after the hottest part
of the hottest day shortly after the plain white kidnapping treat van
escapade.
Despite all
that, it still took me until the last night, to really find my groove
and begin to “get it.” Oh I know I was doing well enough before,
learning process and all that. But to really start letting the walls
built to protect myself from a callous and unconcerned society based
on the “me first” principle, and begin to really feel at home and
able to actually play again. I spent most of the event in a personal
position of protector, watching (over) other people have a blast,
wondering what it would be like to be so carefree and less stoic. I
received many lessons in that direction which I am still unraveling.
If you are reading this and were at Scorched Nuts with me then you
are someone that helped to teach me these whether you were aware or
not and for that I Thank You.
My return
trip from Ohio had a minor challenge, but was overcome. The days
into weeks after the Burn had some challenges, the withdrawal from
hugs kinda sucked. But I found a way to reach out to those I was at
the Burn with. And I read much.
Here I will
place my thoughts on the phenomenon of what is called in Burner
parlance “decompression” and the “default world.” I will
also note a new current of what is called the “extended playa.”
If my reader has understood what I have related so far, it may well
be possible that there may be the suggestion of difficulty in
switching from one “mode” of behavior, that of the openness and
trust of the Burn, back to a closed and walled off one demanded by
society at large. It is this latter social setting that is the
“default.” The period of time that elapses from when a Burn is
left and re-integration back into the society-at-large's norms is the
“decompression.” The “extended playa” is another term for
the “default world” which eschews “decompression” as all
Burners should try in some way to bring those things they love about
a Burn back to the rest of society, continuing the Burn in small ways
and influencing society on the micro scale in the direction of
greater compassion and caring. To my mind, the idea of
“decompression” is backwards. In the “default” setting you
are closed up behind walls and generally railing uselessly against a
cold, cruel world. This then would be the compression and returning
to the open Burn is the decompression. Or is it one is “relaxing”
back into said society? No Burner I know has said “I'm glad the
Burn is over.” The Burn experience should not be one of pressure,
peer (well, maybe peer pressure is healthy) or otherwise, it is a
permissive, accepting atmosphere where you can be your true self and
do what you feel most driven to do. While at a Burn people
frequently experience deep emotions and experience personal and
spiritual transformative events. This is perfectly acceptable and
the largest peer support group is all about them at such a fragile
time. So then I posit that the Burn itself is the decompression from
the unfortunate dictates of default society. Further, I posit that
there can be no good outcome from placing a label on the non-Burn
world. We are all one, just not all of us are ready to understand
what we can be. Using a label of any kind starts an “Us vs. Them”
attitude with the implication that one of the twain must lose the
game. We cannot have a loser, we must all win. Every smile you see
reflected, every expression of gratitude, are all moving us towards
the win. We just spent a weekend or longer at a Burn doing this, it
doesn't need to stop at the gate. Keep giving, hugging, helping,
speaking positive reinforcements and everything else that might bring
the human team to the win.
That brings
me to the planning stages for Alchemy. Originally I had intended to
go to Recycled Rainbow, another Ohio regional that was considerably
closer and would have primarily been the same people I was with at
Scorched Nuts. Unfortunately ticket sales were low and Alchemy was
the same weekend. So again with reaching beyond my comfort zone.
The ten hour drive presented it's own challenges, however I had taken
a longer trip some years ago under much sketchier circumstances. I
speak of my trip from WV to FL, 1100 miles each way, on a 1983 XV750
Yamaha Virago that I bought used, rode for three weeks or so then
took off to Florida having to stop every 90 miles for fuel because
the tank was so small. I did the trip to Georgia in the same vehicle
I took to Ohio, a 1992 Toyota pickup with 340,000 miles. With the
bike I could have hitchhiked if I had to. Not so with all my camp
gear in the Toyota, with the same engine (repaired) that ate the
timing chain cover on the way back from Ohio.
With my
experience at Scorched Nuts, to say that I was anticipating what a
Burn would be like with 3500 people would be quite the
understatement. From the time I bought my ticket after Pennsic, and
restocked my camp kit, I would start every work day saying “Come on
October!” Then it was “Come on Thursday!” Then like Bilbo's
birthday party, Thursday actually came and down the road I ground,
the little Toyota ticking along like a top the entire way. Prior to
leaving I had been corresonding with some Ohio people that I knew
were going to be there and expected to be able to find them and to be
welcomed to camp with them.
On reaching
greeters I had the option of three games featuring the Ten
Principles. I chose croquet and promptly made the wicket for Civic
Responsibility in one stroke. I was asked to explain it in my own
words and this was what I said:
“Civic
responsibility is taking responsibility for society, looking out for
those around you, taking care of people, to constantly learn new ways
and ideas to improve society and aid in it's development into a
caring, loving, compassionate civil society. My purpose here at
Alchemy is to learn these new ideas, share them and then take them
home an apply them to society wherever I happen to be.”
Which was
almost but not entirely unlike the original definition:
“Civic
Responsibility: We value civil society. Community members who
organize events should assume responsibility for public welfare and
endeavor to communicate civic responsibilities to participants. They
must also assume responsibility for conducting events in accordance
with local, state and federal laws.” (Reproduced here from
burningman.com)
However the
greeter whose balls I just played with seemed impressed with my
version and on reflection mine implies a necessary paradigm shift,
the original should be a no-brainer. The less heat you bring down on
a Burn from bad management practices, the further under the radar it
stays, the longer they can persist and the chances to make real
change in the greater society continue. I leave it to my reader to
ponder.
I collected
my medallion schwag and went back to my ever patient truck groaning
under the weight of my swiss army camp. We proceeded to attempt to
find the Ohioan contingent and promptly got lost. So I continued in
which ever direction felt “right” which was the tree line.
Eventually I was stuck behind pedestrian traffic. The Toyota idles
relatively good and was exceptionally well behaved that day, creeping
along with almost no noise. I was not in a hurry. I recognised
no-one and started to feel rather abandoned. Especially since I had
texted two people in camp when I got on site and had heard nothing in
response. I understand now that some Burners go tech free at Burns,
though I would have thought knowing I would be making contact maybe
some attention would have been given.
Suddenly one
of the two people I was idling behind turns around and verbally
accosts me. Thanks for that, I was feeling low at the time and you
pretty much killed the remainder of my feel-good buzz. “Aggro
Hippy” indeed. I understand now that this aggressive display on
their part may have been part of their Radical Self Expression. Glad
to have provided the inspiration for it. I have forgotten thy face
that I may meet you again for the first time. I heard some more
similar stories of the Bro-pocalypse after returning. It was also at
this point one of the DJ's for Super Secret Sexy Camp came up (which
at the time I was too numb to realize it was the guy I corresponded
with by online social network about equipment for a silent disco) or
so my memory of the time is. He jumped up on my running board and
hitched a ride. I admitted to be lost and looking for a group of
Ohioans and he guided me to a GOON post. I was highly disoriented at
that point, but my needs were basic and I had a map. Where is
Parking and how to I get to Roswell? In the middle of trying to get
my bearings I hear a feminine yell and see a somewhat less than half
naked Venezuelan gesticulating in my direction and asking to be let
down from her perch on the windowsill of a moving truck. I see she's
being Shimminapped again. Ok, first person I recognised and she
immediately lightened my mood full of fail. I was able to track her
down later on after parking the truck to get a proper hug.
After
leaving the GOONs I proceeded in the general direction they
indicated, toward more trees and up hill. When the road came to an
end and I had to pick left or right, I noticed the Gifting Tree which
I had read about. And as I debated which way to turn, and again
something at a wit's end, I recognized another Burner from Scorched
Nuts, not a dozen feet ahead of my bumper. Promptly I pulled the
truck up and got out. I wound up camping there which could not have
been a better spot, except for the slope, but I had camped on worse
at Pennsic. Not the group I intended on camping with, but as it
turned out the other group was camped in the middle of the field, I
was happier in the shade.
So after
camp splat (and setting GPS), parking (another waypoint), finding the
Venezuelan and getting a big hug, checking in with First Aid and
finally getting all my stuff under cover before dark I was just too
drained to wander that first night. From our perch on the hillside
we had music from four or five sound camps and most of the people
walking the road. It was a good night to just kick back, shake off
the road and unwind from several weeks of work with overtime. I was
massaged to sleep by the bass.
The next
morning I still wasn't in much of a mood to wander, so I set up house
and took care of myself. Eventually I got out my traveling easel
while everyone else went walkabout and put some paint on a canvas
board. I did not expect to draw appreciative onlookers but it did
help with my less than social mood. So I continued my activity,
painting, talking, greeting people, sending them on their way until
the painting told me it was done. Then I signed it with my Burn name
and had no idea what to do with it. By that time everyone had come
back, I showed it off a little and realized the Gifting Tree was just
a few steps away. I quickly wrote where it had been painted at on
the back of the board and put it under the tree and went for a
walkabout. It was gone by the time I returned.
My walkabout
was rather fruitless, though I did find some more Burners I knew and
figured out where the group I originally intended to camp with was.
Though I did not see any of the members I knew by name at the time I
stopped by and the looks I got from those present made me feel pretty
unwelcome. My fault for bringing an expectation to a Burn. I can
look back on it now and understand that, but at the time I was pretty
let down. So I took my bummed self back to camp and enjoyed another
night of people watching, I drank a little rum, swung my poi (the
green super stretchy ones that go slow) around a little until I
realized I had an audience and broke my flow.
The next day
was Burn day. I finally remembered to make some tags. I did another
painting, and placed it under the Gifting Tree one it was dry and
everyone that had stopped by while it was in process had come back
through to see it completed. Again it was gone within minutes.
Later on it was time for a wedding parade, and we just made it in
time to romp though camp, I found someone else I was looking for
under a skull headdress (and was too surprised to respond), take over
the effigy and throughly break the chi of everyone at the temple.
That was
about the extent of my Alchemy experiences outside of Burn night.
Almost none of the Burners I had been corresponding with by online
social media since Scorched Nuts seemed to want to have much to do
with me. And it was unfair of me to expect that. To the few that
seemed genuinely pleased to see me I Thank You, you were the bright
spots in what would have been an otherwise bum Burn for me.
Things that
shifted my awareness or otherwise made a lasting impression to me or
that I am thankful for: the size of the effigy, the floating
jellyfish, the nyancat, the dickcart, Circus Combustus, the instant
acceptance of the people I camped with, the naked fire hooper, the
lone LED hooper in the middle of the dark, open area after the burn,
sex robot, the giant lite brite, the pony sermon, all the people that
stopped by while I was painting, letting my jaded self slip a little
with a virgin walk, the scantily clad female doing yoga at center
camp while I hung out there, the DJ that took a ride on my running
board and the DJ that stopped to see my painting, the random people
that stopped by my campfire to warm up, and the person that left the
big green goofy poi at the Gifting Tree. My delight in seeing
something like that was immeasurable, they recall me to play of
innocence.
Lessons
learned: bigger is not better for me, I definitely preferred the
intimacy of the smaller Burn. However the bigger Burn brought more
toys out, and the disconnect was largely my failure. Maybe if I
participate in a theme camp or create my own installation I would get
more out of the Burn as I would already be coming from a feeling of
belonging and being a part of something. This would be much easier
if I had a local network of Burners, but to the best of my knowledge
there are none in my area and the nearest is a good distance.
Shameful
mentions: three during my shift at First Aid: one is hot mess drunk
guy, he eventually chased after a portable bar and caught it. The
second was distraught knife wielding kid, we didn't appreciate your
taste in cutlery and your control over it was sorely lacking, small
wonder you lost tabs on your girlfriend. The third was the
gratuitous MOOPers on Effigy hill, we had to call in APW to find
trash bags that big, but big ups to the Burners who stepped up and
fixed your mess, you may hope they never find you.
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