The Party's Over

It's true. Burning Man is over. The city is all but disappeared and what is left are the crews that will continue to tear down the infrastructure and then gleen the playa of traces that we were here. Although we always pass the BLM inspection in the end, I always find traces of the previous year's burn when we arrive the next year. Usually it's small bits: Coins, an earring, a washer. 

It's these small bits that may tell our legacy. A place where people came, for I don't know what anymore. Yes, there's art, and a temporary community, but the event is growing and changing rapidly. Radical Self Entitlement is real. It feels like there is less participation and more consumerism, not in the commerce sense, but in the sense of those who come and take from the community but contribute little more than trinkets that end up in the bottom of dusty bins and backpacks. For many this is merely a place for self gratification where resources and natural beauty is squandered or commodified for the sake of adulation.

For the last few years I've worked a few other festivals with my burner friends. Some were great. Joshua Tree Music Festival is one I'd do again. The crowd was great, the event was small, and the music ranged from Techno and Dub DJs to new folk Mexican music. Then there were the not so great ones. Symbiosis was like working with the Burning Man D-list where several members of their crew had actually been fired from Burning Man DPW. The crowd there was entitled and decidedly shit-show.  Maybe I'm just getting too old for such recklessness. 

In contrast, the crews I work with at the Burn try very hard to get it right. Yeah,there are egos. A majority of the workers here are type A personalities who believe that their way is the right way. Getting so many of folks such as these, myself included, to work together is one of those things that I think qualifies as Playa Magic.  But still there are melt downs, miscommunications, even malicious behavior. We're human after all. Ultimately, we all know that sun rises and the sun sets providing us with beautiful sights to behold. It's part of what keeps us returning every year. But, I can't help but think the sun rises everywhere and that there are many more adventures to be had. 

At Burning Man one of our Principles is to leave no trace that we were here. But we have left many traces. Beyond the small bits and pieces that get buried in the playa only to resurface at the whim of the wind and rain, there are traces of this counter culture throughout the world now. Dub step can now be heard in TV ads. There are multiple regional burner events, and I heard that in a recent panel discussion, event organizers were grilled by other event mavens to grasp at bits of wisdom to make other festivals more participatory, more like Burning Man.

Burner culture is out there. I can only hope that it's the best of what happens here that gets blended into the mainstream. I'm still thankful for this experience, but ready to see what's next.

Getting beyond the Hippies who Occupy Wall Street

There's an old curse that says "May you live in interesting times." When I was a kid growing up in the Bay Area in the 70's and 80's I couldn't help but feel I had missed out on such times. The Summer of Love was just shy of a generation before me, and my parents were mostly squares committed to being good Americans.

But, I saw glimpes of interesting things when we visited my uncle in San Francisco. He was a Harvy Milk generation gay man living in the Haight at that time. His life and friends seemed romantically exotic, and it was from my visits there that I got my first archetype of a Hippie. To me they were funny, and happy, and artistic and with some higher purpose (pun totally intended) that was beyond my own existence. So to me, old Hippies were more like a favorite uncle. And I'll admit that as a result of those encounters, throughout my teens, I secretly mourned that I was born too late to be a Hippie.

It wasn't until Burning Man that I started to have a disdain for Hippies. You see, at Burning Man we have this ethos that is led by 10 principles, one of which is Radical Self Reliance. After several years of systemic preparation for my annual trek to the Playa, I began to grow weary of those who would rather rely on another Burning Man principle, Gifting. In fact it wasn't long before I started to despise the phrase, "the Playa provides." To me this was code for "I'm a hippie, you're suppose to take care of me." Almost overnight, I found exaggerated dread locks, drum circles and the smell of patchouli to be annoying. What was even more annoying was the notion that I was somehow lacking as a person for not living such an unconventional life.

When the first reports of Occupy Wall Street appeared in mainstream media, I recognized the embodiment of the movement, and that created a momentary conflict for me. The statistic used to measure who has most of the wealth in this country was something I was already very familiar with. Thus, my disdain for Hippies had to take a back seat to my sense of social justice, which I ironically acquired in Catholic high school.

Now, as the Occupy movement has moved beyond Wall Street to include union members, airline pilots and veterans, I can't help but think one of two things: either somebody, somewhere cast a curse upon us for interesting times, or at some point in the early 80's I wished too hard to be able to identify with Hippies.

Rites of Passage

It's that time again. In about six weeks I will be chomping at the bit ready to go to Burning Man once again. This year the theme is Rites of Passage, interesting theme considering this is my 7th Burn. That has to mean something.

I was thinking about Rites of Passage over the holiday weekend as I watched an evening parade to celebrate the Fourth of July.

In my home town, the Fourth of July always meant a Parade, Picnic, Festival and Fireworks. From the time I was about four years old, I can remember always being in the parade. I rode on floats, roller skated, tap danced with a show troupe and marched in bands. A couple of years I rode my pink Hello Kitty bike.

When I moved away from home there were parades too. In Italy, where I was stationed as a young soldier, the Fourth of July meant standing on a parade ground, saluting as cannons were fired and then parading in step to a Sousa march. My favorite was Stars and Stripes Forever, and the first time I marched to this in uniform I admit, I was a bit choked up.

When I worked for a public access television station, I use to say that it was a lot like the Fourth of July Parade where one half of the town lines up to wave at the other half. It's a chance to say hey, this is who we are and what we are about. We're cheerleaders, and dog lovers and ballerinas and classic car enthusiasts. And when we walk down the street, showing that pride, those that recognize and appreciate it smile, wave back and sometimes applaud.

When people ask me about Burning Man, I often tell them it's a festival of self expression. Imagine the biggest Fourth of July parade ever with roaming floats, marching bands, a festival and even picnics in Center Camp. It's a place where you can display your enthusiasm if you dare. And if you are really brave you can allow yourself to display that kind of enthusiasm in the Default World as well. Now there's a Rite of Passage for you.

Sanctuary in Work - Burning Man 2010

For me, work often cures a myriad of ills. Work distracts me. Work occupies me. Work is one of the things I do best.

After a very stressful, and very expensive trip to the Burn, I was actually ready to turn around and cut my losses. What was I thinking coming out to the desert for 10 days? I wanted to be in the default world, with my family who couldn’t come.

But I decided to continue on as planned, to my first shift with the Gate Crew. I got there, checked in, got my t-shirt and hoodie, got my laminate, and then sat down in the Black Hole to take in the scene.

Old couches sat upon old carpet laid to keep the dust down. Camping chairs left in a circled formation from the night before, continued to hold council around a still smoldering burn barrel. A crewmember slept in a hammock strung between two beams of the shade structure, as others came through looking tired but motivated.
The first shift with Gate includes an hour-long orientation. We learned do’s and don’ts, safety, what to look for, what to expect. Before long, we were on a bus headed to the gate where we were paired into teams and put to work.

Gate crew is responsible for every person that enters Black Rock City. We take the tickets, make sure folks aren’t bringing in forbidden items: guns, explosives, fireworks, dogs, live plants, feather boas, people without tickets, and then send them on there way down gate road to get hugs and excitement from the Greeters.

Working Gate is a dangerous job. There are a lot of vehicles, driven by weary but excited drivers, in various states of cogency. Exhaust combined with dust and beating sun, make for challenging work conditions, as does early morning cold when working the overnight shift. But there’s nothing like seeing a horizon that begins to glow with the earliest hints of day light before the sun rises.

Working the event changed my perspective about the Burn. I realized that I was no longer merely a participant. I was now one of many who help make it all happen.

After my first shift, I felt better, more like I was Home again.

Thoughts on this to follow...

Bling For a New Economy

In light of our country's economic woes, I've noticed an increase in articles on frugality. Many of them site depression era home remedies, such as egg wash conditioners for those who no longer find it prudent to pay $20 for a salon conditioning. Another article I saw recommended shopping at consignment stores, or sample sales for fall fashions. And yet another offered restaurant recommendations with entrees under $12. To me, all this information begs the question: Why did we have to wait for an economic crisis to be encouraged to do these things?

As the financial crisis continues, stock and credit markets struggle, and politicians fail to pacify an increasingly concerned public, I wonder how will this historic era change our culture. Will we learn to be less decadent, and seek less gratification from the purchase of things? Will we decide to be defined by what we do as opposed to what we have? Will Americans realize that we were probably a richer country before we had all the bling?

To me, bling is the badge of our economy problems. Yes, I realize that this is largely about the sub-prime mortgage market that has disrupted the flow of credit that banks can offer to businesses and individuals that helps our economy run, but hear me out.

If one were to do a careful reconstruction of this financial disaster, it might be realized that this problem began with revolving credit. It use to be you lived within your means, but with the advent of predatory credit card companies, living within means was redefined as living within your credit limit. I realized this a few years ago when I heard one of my interns explain to his friend that the purpose of a credit card is to get things you can't afford. So now, after a few decades of such conditioning, it's only natural that a large swath of Americans thought it was a norm to have things that are not affordable. This includes televisions, vehicles, electronics, trophy homes and yes, bling.

Bling is worn as a testament to personal wealth. Whether or not it is a true testament is argumentative. But it seems that we all have a bling issue in one way or another, be it extravagant jewelry, designer shoes and bags, the latest mobile phone, or largest HDTV. We have systematically substituted things for substance, and that gratification which is never satiated, is part of what has fueled our combined misjudgment in the use of easy credit for things we can't afford, namely mortgages.

The theme at Burning Man this year was American Dream. A writer doing a story for an LA style magazine asked my son if thought there was such a thing as an American Dream. His answer was a poignant "No, dreams aren't real, that's why they are called dreams." The idea of having it all, is appealing, and it's understandable how so many would jump at the chance to have it all. But like most things that seem to good to be true, buying the American Dream on easy credit turned out to be wishful thinking.

So now, I have to wonder if we have learned our lesson. Will we see the error of our excessive ways and know better or will this drama simply be replayed in the next century as well?

Burning Man

I made my first trip to Burning Man in 2003. I was supposed to have gone to Chicago that year as a poetry groupie for the Poetry Slam Nationals, but it didn't work out. I already had the money set aside, and the time off work, so my sister said, "Why don't you come with us to Burning Man?" I begrudgingly agreed. I had heard about it for years. And, even though I was skeptical as hell, I got a ticket, did my research and was ready to go just a few short weeks later.

First of all, let me say that preparing for Burning Man that first year was really no-brainer. I spent 9 years in the Army, and spending time in the field was usually my favorite part. I read the Survivor Guide that comes with the ticket from cover to cover, and planned accordingly. The only thing I didn't have that first year was glow sticks.

I can still remember arriving to the gate that first year. We left late, which annoyed me to no end. I was ready at 9AM, but the others were not. So we sat around for several hours before we were able to leave. We finally arrived and got to the gate which was manned by a group of people all dressed as some version of Catholic school girls. There was something going on with a bell, and spanking, but I was tired, and still skeptical, so when I got to the person taking the tickets, I said, "just point me to my camp." And they did. I think the look in my eye told them everything.

It didn't take long that first year to become enchanted. First of all, we had an amazing campsite. We were right at Center Camp with a view of the Man. We didn't even really have to venture out, we could sit there and watch the Playa go by. We saw art cars, painted people, and on three nights had entertainment in the form of the "Glam Clam," a make shift karaoke machine on wheels that set up right in front of our camp.

I met amazing people, and connected deeply with some. I remember sharing a moment with a woman whom I had done mendi art on. We sat together and talked for what seemed like hours with an intimacy I had never known before. I was so sad to see her go, and missed her terribly when she did. The connection was deep and intense, but I only saw her one other time at the end of the week when we hugged goodbye. I'll never forget her, and never be sorry that she quickly floated into and out of my life.

So, that first burn changed me. I was a convert. I came to consider myself a Burner, which is the term attendants use for themselves. Fast forward to 2008. I have just returned from my fourth Burn. The second and third were not quite as magical as the first, but this year I feel like I rediscovered what captured me the first time.

This year, we were in Kidsville, a collection of camps in a designated area known as a village, where possession of a child is required in order to stay there. And this year I was a Playa Mom. In the mornings, we served cereal, Pop Tarts, tang and bacon. Kids and adults alike would magically appear as soon as the smell of bacon wafted across the village. The cereal and Pop Tarts were quite a hit as well. The day we broke out the Lucky Charms was our busiest.

It was great. Kids were clambering for cereal and bacon, soy milk and granola magically appeared from one of the neighbors, and everyone picked up after themselves. We visited, talked about our real lives and about the random playa moments that make Burning Man such a special experience.

By 11:00 we were done with Cereal Camp, and could clean up and go explore the playa, which we did. We saw amazing art, Barbie Death Camp, one of our favorite places, people doing silly things, people doing interesting things and random acts of kindness.

I over prepared this year and I was glad I did. Almost every time someone needed something, I was able to say, "Hold on a sec, I've got that for you." And, I was happy to share. I gave aloe vera to some one with psoriosis, sunglasses, an extra hat, zinc oxcide to someone with a rash, and hand sanitizer at the porta-jons. Half the enjoyment of Burning Man is being in a society where it's alright to give, and giving can be so healing for the soul. It can make you smile all day. And it's contageous.

For the second year in a row, my son lost his bike on the playa. The first year was my fault, because I forgot the locks. This year he lent his bike to a stoner who had let him play his drums, and of course, the stoner lost it. The guy felt bad about it though. So much so that he actually offered me his pot in return. Now that might not sound all that generous, but here's a guy, who lives in his van, and carries his drums everywhere, and the only other valuable thing he has is his stash...and he was willing to give that up to the mom of the kid whose bike he lost. He was a stoner with a heart of gold. Just the gesture was enough for me.

And because it was, we were blessed with Playa Magic. As I walked back to my camp, I came across an abandoned bike with a blown innertube. I walked the bike back to my camp, fixed the tire and gave it to my son. Yup. That's Burning Man.