We’ve washed the blue paint, the beet juice, and the dust off and we are attempting to acclamate to the “real world” after a week away in the desert.
As usual, Burning Man filled me with visual delights, moments of awe, and enough physical discomfort to make me appreciate clean sheets and a cool dust free bed.
Sometimes I wonder why I go year after year. There are 75 mph dust storms that whip you into a cloud where for hours you can’t see or move, it gets so hot that you often feel nauseated, tired and crabby for much of the day, there is so much stimulation that even when you are “sleeping” the ground is literally vibrating with electronic music and energy. (Sleep deprivation ensues and by the end of the week my nerves are shredded to bits!)
There is even the occasional dust storm/rainstorm that creates a horizontal rain of mud! Who knew this was possible?
And yet we come back year after year because it’s the only place we can see 40 foot chandeliers that fell from the sky, opulent temples that are erected in a week and then burned to the ground, flaming hands, bicycles that shoot fire, tesla coils, angels jumping on trampolines, and gorgeous desert sunrises that make you want to weep.
It is the only place where our camp can transform into the “Beet people”, do our guerilla performance art piece, and (I think) be truly celebrated.
I suppose that’s worth all the heat and dust that mother nature can serve up.