Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

In the last 4 years my uncle, my dad, my mom, then my brother had passed away. Up until the burn i had some pretty tough times in my life and i still do actually. That was all about to change. At Burning Man i was finally able to let go of them at the Temple. The night before the burning of the Temple i went into the Temple to write down words of love for my loved ones and said a prayer for them. The next night as the Temple burned i hug my fellow burner family as i cried. I then began to pray and meditate for my loved ones. Inside my minds eye i saw red lights transform into flowing blue lights that radiated throughout my body then bursting outwards in rays of blue light into the surrounding atmosphere around myself. When i finally opened my eyes again i knew that the rest of my life would be different and that i would be better. Burning Man has changed my life. The thing i love most about Burning Man is that i fell in love with the people of Burning Man. I may have lost my old family but i had just gained a new FAMILY <3

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

Prologue: The summer preceding Burning Man 2007, I found myself taunted by periodic dreams, difficult to describe but having something to do with a mysterium tremendum pulsing at the center of Burning Man, some ominous vortex of consciousness that was drawing me into a rebirth canal before hurling me into points unknown. One dream in particular I remember clearly: Upon arriving at Burning Man, someone pointed at me friendly and demanded, “why are you here?” I awoke to the echoes of my unhesitant reply: “To completely let go of my former relationship.” As I was still recovering from the splinters of a broken eleven and a half year relationship, there was now no obstacle too great to prevent me from making the trip to Black Rock City. And so I did, and I could regale you with tales all night long and my eyes would sparkle and enthusiasm would strain my voice, but let me just tell you about the night of the burn itself:

The Night of the Burn Itself: Atop Abraxas the Dragamuffin, a brilliantly-realized art car, I had an excellent view of the burning of the man. I wish I could say that it blew my mind, but really it was just a big fireworks and laser show surrounded by the Zippos of the 21st century, thousands of glowing LCD screens as the assembled watched it via the viewfinders of their digital cameras, saving instead of savoring the moment. Fun, yes, but missing was the mystery. Of course, what I did not yet realize was that the burning of the man is not the climax of Burning Man. It is only the blast-off. 

It was in the disorderly dispersion after the burning of the man that I began to feel the reverberant pulse I had known in my dreams, an emergent rhythm simmering beneath our feet, and we reconvened a couple of hours later on the edge of the open playa for the burning of Crude Awakening, a ninety-foot tall oil derrick bearing spiritless witness to nine gigantic steel humans in various poses of prostration and supplication.  Again atop Abraxas, I am huddled and cuddled with shipmates reincarnated from a glorious pirate ship, fireworks and lasers, oh my, and then… and then… I don’t know if I gasped or if all the air was sucked out of my lungs by the detonation of the largest controlled propane explosion in the world, a Guinness I guess, 900 gallons of NASA jet fuel and 2000 gallons of liquid propane and oh my god a thousand foot high mushroom cloud churning hellish red and demon black, 2.4 gigawatts of energy, just enough to power the entire Bay Area for one minute (or, come to think of it, two trips back to the future in Doc’s De Lorean…), and the only thing more wow fantastic than this is the firelit faces around me, fireshadows flickering across their wide-open eyes, transfixed in apocalyptic wonder.  

And you know, the word apocalypse derives from the Greek word, apokalyptein, which means, “to unveil.” And there was indeed a renting of the veil that night, an opening into a realm where every encounter is authentic, and consequently, deeply meaningful. I had painted the word IMPULSE across my chest in fluorescent white, and as the night wore on I discovered that this was as much invitation as invocation. I was hugged, kissed, licked, squeezed, nibbled, massaged, hit on, and slashed with chocolate, and before long I became the impulse, daring the impulse from whomever chose my presence. During one extended moment, I shared an hour long shoving loving shouting kissing encounter with a woman bursting out of her chrysalis. She showed me how tightly our spirits are crammed into this life, how our bodies are but leotards for our soul, and how our soul just wants to dance, and dance we damn did and nighttime disappeared into blackness all around and there was she and there was me orbiting around one another like Shiva and Shakti growling and grinning across the galaxy, and this is not even the climax. 

Finding my way to Opulent Temple, I’m aware of an uncanny sensation of familiarity, of recognizing everything that is happening, a sort of “oh yeah, this is the part where I share an extended shamanic dance on the open playa,” or, “oh yeah, this is when I kiss a pregnant woman’s belly,” or, “oh yeah, this is when I throw it down with a dozen other dancers at Opulent Temple,” as if it all happened in one bright shining moment, a big bang, and life is a vastly reduced awareness of that moment that is right now, and gods and goddesses are dancing the dance their bodies have been dying for, impulses pulsing timeless and tireless and oh yeah this is the part when the dance floor opens around me and surrounds me and eyes are so bright like stars of the night and I am between now and nowever and we are so fucking lucky to be alive. 

A dragon breathes fire in the distance and I heed the call of my shipmates and make my way toward the mothership, noting the sky rosy on the horizon and thinking holy cow what a night but it has yet hardly begun. Abuzz with activity, setting the generator a-rumble, bolting into  place a platform for spinning, samurai warriors are striding about, preparing for the final assault upon the ego panting upon the periphery, for we have sailed out upon the dead calm of this dry lakebed to do battle only with ourselves, and we won, and we are a float in our own victory parade, and Bassnectar is spinning and people come together to dance the dawn awake and my are we alive today as the sunrise pales next to the light shining out of the eyes of everyone and how are we so beautiful and Seth good brother that he is grabs my shoulder and points to Crude Awakening and do you see how now that the derrick is burned they’re actually worshipping the sunrise? 

And I would have wept but my grin would permit me only to dance for I was not yet done and oh yeah this is the part where I’m dancing on the catwalk and a sparkling woman joins me and writhes in close but then something in me closes imperceptibly and I humor her for a couple of minutes before dancing my way away and down the ladder I go and I take three steps and happen to glance back and she’s leaning over the railing and glaring at me in aggressive compassion and where do you think you’re going get back up here and I comply yes I do and regard the dance proper ‘cause you’re not really dancing till you imagine that you are making love and I clearly see how I have been breaking the circuit of sexuality in my life ever since my split and she doesn’t know how she healed me and I don’t know how I healed anyone around me but it happened all the same and the deejay lays down Frou Frou’s Let Go, and an exhilaration of epic healing gasps into atmosphere and we dance, and dance, and dance the wild divine. 

Epilogue: The next night, during the Temple burn, I watched in somber fascination as it collapsed, sighing satisfied as a wave of cheers swept round and round. Later, I was having a snack with a friend and she asked me if I had let go of what I wanted to let go of and it occurred to me that my former relationship had not crossed my mind all week, not even during the Temple burn. I forgot to let go, I said, realizing that letting go requires no effort, no remembrance, and certainly no action. It requires only release, and acceptance, and that I forgot to let go only demonstrates my success in doing so. 

Thank you to all who shared this experience with me. It is surely the morning we will return to upon our death.

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

Gifting @BurningMan:
“Being devoted to acts of gift giving.
The value of a gift is unconditional.
Gifting does not contemplate a return
or an exchange for something of equal value.”

…)’(…

Twas 2010 Burn Night, when all o’er the playa;
The sub woofers were bumpin’
The place was on FIYA!

The Man had been lit, the circle released;
Every man, woman and child,
Were up on their feet!

With The Man on the ground,
Dust and ash in the air;
No one knew where they were.
No one much seemed to care.

All hugging and smiling,
The dust in our teeth;
The flames and the cinder,
All within reach.

Ten minutes had passed,
Since The Man had last stood;
With the air filled with his ashes,
My mood was quite good.

Wearing red coat and white fur,
Goggles and boots;
With a sack full of goodies,
Any Burner could use.

A full night of Gifting, is what lay ahead;
My friends all around me, I had nothing to dread.

When all of sudden, I hear from behind;
Two words hollered at me, terse and unkind.

Two words said with venom, hatred and bile.
Well I pulled down my kerchief,
And turned ‘round with a smile.

And then he repeats them -
These words thrown like stones;
“FUCK Santa!”
Flung by this young man,
Out here on his own.

“Santa HATES Me! I’m Jewish.” He then says to my face.
And I paused before answering, the wind filling the space.

These words from his mouth, were just words he was taught.
Old ideologies learned – that had come here, to this spot.

“Santa doesn’t hate you. Santa wants to give you a gift!”
Presented with a flourish – - “Fuck yer zip-tie.” He spits.

Determined to break through this veil of learned hate;
The night’s further adventures will just have to wait.

Reaching back into the bag, my hand finds the key;
The world disappears, now it’s just him and me.

My hand closes round Snoopy, a well traveled friend;
When this kid sees what I have, his hate comes to an end.

“I love Snoopy.” He says, with a young sheepish grin.
Now I reach in the bag, finding that zip-tie again.

“Santa wants you to have him, let’s put him here.”
Zip-ing Snoopy to his backpack, the message is clear.

“See, his head swivels round, he’ll watch your back.
Or keep an eye on you, from right here, on your pack.”

“Thank you Santa.” He hugs me – his eyes filled with tears.
I say “Good-bye” to Snoopy… (Hey, I’ve had ‘em for years!!)

Then this kid turns to Santa beside me – now hugging him tight;
“Thanks again Santa, I mean it.” “You guys have a great night!”

“Merry Burn Night!” we both holler, as we watch him go.
“How do you do that Santa?” “Hell, Santa, I don’t really know.”

I never worry about the how – and this is all I know -
“The gift is just a conduit, to a deeper, grateful flow…”

originally posted on Piratess Philosophy

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

This was my first year at Burning Man, I came with the hospital staff, Rampart, to assist with some tasks and I came with my husband, who worked with the hospital.

To get to the point, after a week at burning man, I was there from thursday to thursday, Friday night my hubby and I had some time alone. Sadly some of our companions over taxed their physical bodies and were down for recovery. So my hubby who heard that the art project “wall-street” wasn’t going to be burned on friday night, thought it would be cool to ride our bikes out there. I being pleased at his enthusiasm to another bike ride was more than willing to enjoy this adventure. Since I arrived at Burning man, I have taken it upon myself to dress comfortably, but artistically to keep out excessive dust but allow my skin to breath, so I was wearing layers, of light clothes, including some rainbow knitted tights. I had my goggles, head wrap, and neck and mouth wrap, open fingered cloves, and no heels on my boots. We drank plenty of water before we left.

Wall street was impressive, so much work in so few days, I was wandering around reading the marker remarks. Acknowledging what people wished to share. When I arrived at “Golden Sucks” I thought, what would the view be like from the top story? And decided to head up. I had at this point lost track of my hubby, who was enjoying the structure his way. As I made it to the second floor, I was distracted by the moon, it wasn’t full, but it hung low and was amazing through the random dust storms rushing through the burning man city. I paused to look and to see how high up I was on just that floor.

Than I walked across the floor past the ladder heading back down towards the ladder heading up. I side stepped someone coming towards me, and stepped forward onto a plywood board on the floor which gave way under me. My foot went through the floor. Maybe I have seen Star trek one to many times, but I lurched forward to try and catch myself on the floor, and not fall straight through. I dug my fingers into the plywood floor before me and continued to slide through. Luckily the board snapped back up and caught my leg, it ripped through the skin at the back of my calf, and stopped in my knee cap. But then bent again and I fell a little more till it caught my thigh.

At this same time some of the people coming down the stairs from the 3rd floor saw me, and quickly tried to grab my arms. One person on each arm. It happened so quickly, I was more aware of the falling and trying to grab something, that I was grateful someone had caught me. He or she must have leapt down the stairs. Then someone else helped move the plywood to release my leg, I wish I could remember how many people helped and exactly how they helped me, but I was over-welmed at that point as to how I had fallen through a floor and could James Kirk have caught himself, because I only managed to slow myself down. Was my leg bleeding, or severed?? And the worse, how much attention did I just bring to myself? Who falls through floors, how far would the fall have been?

As I worried about what just happened to me, someone else was making sure they could rescue me and that I was ok. I remember sitting for little while trying to determine how injured I was. Could I walk? I was terribly shaken, and stunned. I don’t even remember any conversations with those who saved me, just that they were concerned about me, and if I needed more help. I didn’t want more help, I knew my hubby was down below somewhere, and he is a paramedic, so if I could just get to him, he could assess my injuries. So I resolved try and thank those who helped me, got up and crawled to the the stairs leading back down to the floor, and crawled down them. I was able to hold some weight on my leg and limped to my hubby. It hurt, but I am no stranger to pain. My hubby looked at my leg, said it didn’t look too bad, would he like me to have Rampart come get me. Of course not, I begged to ride our bikes back to camp and then he could clean up my leg and get a better look. Pedaling was easier on my knee than walking.

We road for about 15 minutes, and I started crying from pain and the experience. I hadn’t had much time to process it. The tears collected at the bottom of my goggles, thus it was a bit blurry. Then a dust storm kicked up through our path, and not minutes later I hit a large can full of glowing coals, I did not see the glow, but I heard the screams when I hit it. I was told the can tipped and the coals ignited, I fell the opposite way and rolled across the desert putting out any sparks that tried to ignite my clothes. Again more people ran towards me to help. Even one woman sat with me, and let me finally just sit and cry. I could really talk, it was to hard to gather more thoughts, I still wanted to get back to my camp on my own, and would need my resolve to push through the pain in my leg and the unease in my brain. This was such an alien experience for me. I did not get the names of those who helped me through the fire, and sat with me for a short cry, before I was back on my bike heading back to camp. I really wish I could give them a more heart felt thanks, and I was sorry, I was just not able reach out better, and remember them. I am glad they were there for me, and I think that there are such important times like this, where just being there and doing what is needed and wanted is all someone can do to help another.

I like to believe I am pretty self reliant. But I needed saving that night, Thank you to those who had helped me, I figure you would also have remembered such and event.

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

#1. “Expectations”

Our Black Rock City Campsite:
With its Emberglow exterior
Hot, Mysterious, Sirenic
Soft-bodied drape and flow into

The Dark, Shady Place -
Our Shade Core
a Touchstone Space
a Renewal Site
Cool, blue-green shelter
A private, restful portal to our…

Deep Camp -
Scheherazade Tent
Lush, Plump, Furry mounds of Fuzzy Flame-colored Pillows,
Chinese lanterns, Orange seventies high/low carpet:
Our Sacred and wombishly Yoniverse

#2. “Reality”

Blown
Choked
Shaken
Thrashed
Like a sobbing bride standing alone at the altar
She wishes herself to the lacy temple for a
Sanctified Revirgined Do-Over.

#3. “Flipping the Switch”

I let myself be danced into this new day:
Do-Over Day
I live in Nowcamp
I am enough
Suddenly reignited by wonder
Life is a Playa-eye-gazing puja with
Everyburners everywhere
My dance is a throbbing, womb-based lightshow
All sparkles and twinkles
of Curiosity
Discovery
Surprise
I’m el-wired
Connected
Aglow
Pulsing with Playasensuality
Laser Lightstrings attach to each cell of my yoni
through my Rainbowlit Chakraself
Relaxed, Responsive, Authentic -
Even Photogenic -
I’m my Soul-Sourced
Expansive light-being-best:
This is Burning Man.

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

Check out the rest of Bill’s odyssey on www.billhornstein.com.

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

Like it or not, this is the most prominent experience of the 2012 event for me.

The Dust was magnificent and just what I always hoped for! I wasn’t even bothered by the unbelievably long will call lines that I was helping my friend to navigate in her virgin year. I had secured childcare with the grandmas for an extended stay so that I could rock clean up crew with my dear friend and had arranged for the rest of our camp to leave us behind during Exodus with a bare bones camp.

Last year was my virgin year and found myself able to break out of the timid state of nearly catatonic awe I experienced that was only punctuated by seemingly catastrophic strife and euphoric joy. This year, I attended with only friends and no lover purposefully to gain a more independent view of the community and with the intent to participate more fully. I made a few very intense connections and had oddly synchronistic conversations and experiences and ventured to the wonder of deep playa often. I realize I’m being vague. It is due to the extremely intense experience that unfortunately colored my entire week and emotionally derailed my intended and planned commitments for post event clean up.

I arrived early to the Man burn to secure a front row spot for a fire dance troupe that I know from Oregon. I watched and beamed with love for my comrades and then viewed and felt one of the most amazing explosions I may ever see. Feeling deeply pulled and nudged by the waves of heat bursting out I intertwined deeply with the cyclical nature of the fire. The man fell and the rangers could not hold the crowd. I ran for the center to be in the fire. There, at the edge of the embers I found part of my tribe and joined them, to in essence, be one with the fire. Barebacked to the immenseness of that heat I had a deeply profound internal experience.

When it came time to separate myself and go off on my own, I decided I needed to remind my lover or my affection for him before I wanted to go back to camp and meditate on my experience. I headed to the satellite phone near 2 o’clock and esplanade. The phone conversation quickly became stressful as I am told that my dog has been hit by either a large truck or a tractor and the phone of course cuts out as there is a 3 minute time limit.

As I’m waiting for my turn on the phone again, I’m approached by a group of five large (highly intoxicated) men and a woman that I did not see initially. The largest man tries to talk to me and steps on my foot as I’m trying to back away. I try to convey that I am not having the best time right now and that i’d like some personal space. The man doesn’t move and moves his face uncomfortably close to mine, still trying to talk to me while i’m still trying to back up and he advances more. Finally, exacerbated by the gross infringement on my space, I tell him to fuck off and leave me alone.

After what seems like forever, it’s my turn in the booth, and I dodge away from the larg man hovering over me and into the booth. All of the sudden a very large and seemingly drunk female appears in the doorway and grabs me, throws me to the ground by my hair. Jumps on my back and begins to brutally assault me while her male companions crowd in, laughing, in what I can only assume is to protect what she’s doing from view. I hear the faint sounds of passersby exclaiming at the sight but, not doing anything. The phone hanging with my lover helplessly screaming “what’s happening?” on the other end.

Finally a woman yells, and the males drag the female off somewhere. People stand around me as I’m huddled in a ball confused and not knowing what to do. After a while of trying to reconcile in my mind whats going on, I asked someone to call my ranger friend who was on duty. I was taken to rampart and treated for my injuries by well meaning staff who reported the incident to the local authorities. Luckily my ranger friend was able to help me fill out the paper work because the girl broke my glasses and I’m pretty much blind without them. So much for driving my self home or spotting moop that’s smaller than a foot in diameter.

The rangers where unbelievably accommodating and helpful but it was difficult to process what had just happened and I found myself experiencing bizarre emotions and feeling extremely paranoind and then confused about what all of this meant. My ranger friend found a place to store my bike and gave us a ride back to camp. She cared for me and checked on me. I only left camp to use the lavatory after that until we left early monday morning.

My friend that I had planned to stay behind with decided he would leave early with me…I couldn’t drive my own vehicle anymore anyway. I just wanted to be as far away from black rock desert as I could. Well, more accurately I didn’t want to ever potentially run into the person that had assaulted me again. I packed up camp and sat in my tent during the temple burn drinking gifted liqueur and cuddling with a friend that elected to stay with me.

So now, today, I’m left with this sense of …what now? I had this wonderfully freeing experience that is almost completely overshadowed and replaced in my memory by three minutes of my life and the hours following. What does the mean about Burning Man? What does this mean about Burning Man for me? Should I return? What do I tell people about me experience? Most importantly what do I tell myself about my experience?

Yeah maybe I shouldn’t have told the guy to “fuck off,” but how long do you tolerate someone in your space forcing you to stay in close proximity to them before you become more assertive? What does this say about burning man culture? What about the people who stood around not helping me, just watching? One person had the balls and compassion to initiate the end of me being beating and my face being repeatedly slammed into the ground. I don’t know what to do with this knowledge. From another perspective, compared to many others my experience was mild….what was it something like 3-4 sexual assaults A DAY reported this year..that’s the reported ones. two missing minors. From what I’ve gathered from long time rangers, this is a dramatic increase just this year.

I’d be interested in hearing the stories of others that had an unexpected negative experience and how they are dealing with that. I hope I will return and create a redeeming experience for myself. I hope the influx of amazing installations will continue and that that energy will foster the unmitigated exemplification of the principles. Though perhaps “Radical inclusion” is something that needs to be redefined, hopefully it will take care of itself as the energy redirects back into the fiery flow of creativity and community.

Tales From The Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by its participants.

I found the theater by accident one night far out in the deep playa. The deep playa is where few people go, far from the city but still within the official boundary. Notice in the photo that you see nothing in the distance – only the people by the theater. I found it at 2 in the morning on my way back to the city from seeing the art projects and wildly varied interactive and other things widely scattered in the dark a mile or three from the city. I spent 7 or 8 hours on my bike going from one distant speck of light to another in the total darkness of the vast expanse of the “DEEP PLAYA” (drums beating slowly in the background as “Deep Playa” is read). The playa is perfectly flat and level. The temperature feels like it’s in the 70s at night, and it’s easy to pedal over the surface. You don’t have to worry about hitting anything going fast way out there because it’s, well, perfectly flat and level. (People and bikes have lights. They’re supposed to.)


Did I mention that I was wearing a white seersucker suit with thin blue pinstripes — matching coat and pants — that I borrowed from the Pewter Plough Playhouse (live theater) in my little town of Cambria?

So I saw this point of light by itself off to the left. “Why not?” I asked myself (but of course not out loud). As I sped closer, the light kept getting brighter and larger until I saw what it was — a theater with a bright marquee in front and the building all lit up. My amazement was further compounded by “How in the world could anybody even find this so far out and in the dark????” There were a ton of bikes out front, and the theater was full. (And I have absolutely no explanation regarding that so just don’t ask. But the unexplained is what these people seem to trade in. Alice and Dorothy would have been proud.)

I wished someone had been there to take a picture of my face. Mouth and eyes wide open in amazement with the half of my face in disbelief fighting the other half with the smirking smile of a child. Then I remembered that this is Burning Man and that shiny thread of creativity, art and the unexpected whips right through this dark deep playa, snagging people, freeing them, and heading off to our city (which was possibly somewhere to my right, maybe a mile or 2 or 3). The marquee above listed the movie, and I entered through the double glass doors. Theater guy immediately asked what candy I wanted — all free, of course, since this is a “gifting” culture (no buying, selling or trading allowed, you remember) — and sent me to what looked like a rabbit hole to see the movie (A 3 1/2 foot hole with strips of material hanging in it.) When I emerged on the other side with my candy I was in a real theater. The screen covered the entire back wall and the seats were those extra-large well-padded kind that moved back when you sat in them and had cup holders. Oh yeah!

How’d they get all this from far away to the desert in the middle of nowhere and set up with electricity and everything? And in the normal, or “default” world, you’d also ask “And WHY?” with such a very serious face. I wasn’t wearing the kind of shoes to click my heels or possess a potion to drink to get back to the normal world so I just had to have faith. I relaxed in my comfortable chair watching *His Girl Friday* with that well-known what’s his name and what’s her name. Later, when I poked my head out the rabbit hole and looked around, the theater lobby and everything was still there — so I emerged, still in that curious magical Burning Man world. And the theater? I wouldn’t know where to find it again.

I knew this world couldn’t last forever, so I just resolved to participate and enjoy it while it lasted. And I was right. But I was wrong that I didn’t create it since, beyond the seeding of this environment, the interaction and the creative freedom of participation of people results in the creation and nature of this city. So now I see that’s why I had to experience it to understand its uniqueness. A few days later, it all ended, and I’m told that there’s not a thing there now that wasn’t there before. Not a string or a ring, not a thread or a bed, not a button or mutton, not a footprint — not even a MOOP! So that’s the scoop. And to tell the truth, it coulda been a dream. I’ll have to tell ya when I get back from it next year.