Retrospective on two Burns

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.