On Wednesday around noon, I decided it was time to walk out to the Temple and just stay there for a while. I wanted to walk instead of riding my bike so that I could use the slow, deliberate journey as a way to settle into a calm, quiet mindset. On my way, I started to let the thoughts that I wanted to acknowledge at the Temple that day drift through my head. I enjoyed the sun on my body and the gentle, dusty wind in my skirt and in my hair.
When I arrived, I slowly made my way around the building and between the others who were there too. I walked until a spot to sit and write called out to me. I had a few things that I wanted to say, but I knew what had to be first – my last relationship, and the disappointment and the hanging on that I still hadn’t yet been able to shake. I hoped that I had come to the Temple to write something self-empowering; something that, once I had written it, would let me leave with a light heart, a heart that had finally let it all go. Or that I would write an announcement of some sort about moving on, starting right now – a declaration of my independence from the past. I sat down in the dust, breathed in, and thought for a moment. I put my sharpie to the wood and the whole thing appeared haltingly, in between long pauses where I just sat and cried, letting flow all of the tears that I have not cried for a long while. This is what came out: (more…)
I step onto the playa, my bare feet digging into the Black Rock Desert, close my eyes, open my ears and take a deep deep breath. The dust enters my nose and a potpourri of images, feelings, expectations, desires and memories hijack my mind. My brain does a rollercoaster ride like never before and a million impressions are breaking in. I am here, where I planned to be for nearly seven years now. For someone coming from Europe and working in a job where holidays are hard to plan, it’s not easy to organize a trip to Black Rock City. But I succeeded at last and I am desperately curious if all the images I have from reading, watching, assimilating, preparing and organizing will come true. The dust enters my lungs, proceeds through the maze of bronchial tubes and finally settles on the surface of my alveoli. Black Rock Desert is now a part of me where it wasn’t before. Or am I part of the Black Rock Desert now? Whichever it is…I am home! (more…)
I had wanted to attend BM for MANY years — 15+ — but had to play my cards carefully to NOT annoy or offend my wife. I live in Truckee and have friends and acquaintances who have attended since the early 90’s. Every year I think “it’s too late.” “It’s changed”… I know it has. But in 2012, I went with a good friend, and I was floored. I HOPE I will never be the same. (more…)
In 2010, I met a girl named Coco at Burning Man. Coco had flown from Paris to Reno, made her way to Black Rock City, and then sauntered into our camp. I was sitting on a mattress in my U-Haul trailer (a “poor man’s RV”) when she arrived.
“Hi, I’m Coco,” she said. Noticing the mattress, she continued, “Is this a real mattress?”
People talk about a lot of odd things at Burning Man (i.e., art, camping, music, and sex) but as far back as I can remember no girl ever started a conversation with me by asking about my mattress. Yet, it was definitely happening now.
Loren: “Yes, it’s a real mattress.”
Coco: “It’s your bed? Are you with anyone? I mean is anyone else sleeping here? Can I sleep here?” I took a look at Coco. She was wearing running shoes, shorts, and a top that seemed to reveal more than conceal.
Loren: “We can talk about it. Come on in.” (more…)
My first Burning Man experience was the single most transformative event of my life. But I was at a lost when trying to convey just how profound it was to me without sounding crazy. Suddenly I was no longer an atheist? Suddenly I believed in love and magic? And what’s this about a giant rubber duck?
I realized that I needed to tell the whole story. Who I was, how I came to Burning Man, and how that’s made all the difference — essentially, the story of my life. It’s become rather important to me, something I plan to rewrite and recite for the rest of my days. Below is an audio recording of it. Enjoy, and please share if you like it.
I woke up Friday morning and felt a pull to get to the Temple.
As Jonny and I rode out to the playa the dust started swirling, not a full white out, but as we got closer to the temple the visibility decreased. You could see but not well, you could ride but with caution.
We kept going.
Then suddenly the dust settled, and there the temple was in all its mystical grandness, a pyramid of human emotion standing majestically before me. (more…)
I hadn’t even planned on going to “The Temple.” I heard others mention how they “needed to go” there. Why would I need to go? I really hadn’t had any recent losses. It sounded like some sort of obligation— like “needing to go” to church…
It was my first Burn, just my second full day. I was sort of on my own—my wife had been once but chose to stay home. I was trying to take it all in, exploring on my bike. I came across the Temple while crossing the Playa on my bike to get to somewhere else. It was an impressive, very interesting structure—“guess I’ll take a quick glance inside…” I thought. (more…)
One lonely midnight I went to look for those people of “last time” at the address we were once, knowing that even the City itself changes ground. I found only walls and walls of RVs enclosed upon themselves like aliens conspiring in deaf whispers. I did find a home-made planetarium and laid down and cried. They had drove with all this 30 hours from Canada and although the projector broke down sometimes, the stars were not really our galaxy, and you could see the binder clips holding the white sheet ceiling to the dome, it was touching and beautiful.