MOOP: A virgin at Burning Man

Sometimes it's a frantic, scary existence sitting on the outside when everyone else has paddled in. This is true not only in the water, but also when returning from an experience such as Burning Man.

What the hell was that? Why was it so emotional? Now that I'm back- did the experience change me for the better? Are my creative juices flowing? Is there a new spark planted?

Now what?

When I arrived in the magical playa I was excited, yet calmly cautious- almost withdrawn. I am not one to shy away from new experience, but I had no idea what it all meant, nor how I should proceed.

Welcome Home. I was greeted with a bear hug by the Muppet sentry at the gate, and as a virgin was given the opportunity to roll in the dust and ring the bell.

Whose home? Hell, this is certainly not my home, there isn't an ocean for at least a few hundred miles.

After tracking down the neon green zebra-print bike that I had spray-painted a few days earlier, (how I found it in the pitch-dark at 3:30am, I do not know) I headed out on the playa.

Accompanied by the 22 year old male-dominatrix who had hitched a ride with me out to the desert, we tore across the open space beyond the Esplanade directly to the Man. Dawn began to seep in around the edges as we climbed the pyramid shaped structure, while below us the remaining burners eerily pulsated on the sprawling tableau of brightly lit art and booming sound.

On the platform below the Man we counted our "zins" and sipped greedily from the bottle of wine shared by a fellow Man climber. Staring up between his widely split legs I wondered exactly who this glowing man was that we would be so eagerly burning later in the week.

After orienting myself to the temple, center camp and nearby art pieces, we hopped back on our bikes and rode out past the pier, toward the purple lit domes at the edge of the mile wide arc of Black Rock City- around 2 o'clock or so. The DJ hashed out mellow groovy beats and the remaining ravers lazily rocked to and fro.

***

I awoke tucked in the corner of the Camp 161 dome, hot and sticky, the recipient of questioning stares from a few members of the close knit crew to whom I was a new-comer. I quickly introduced myself, hoping I wasn't treading on anyone's turf already, and made haste to help with breakfast and the hosting of our dome-top circus netting. Talk about a sweet chill space for a bunch of wandering hooligans.

The rest of the day was spent exploring the hordes of art pieces strewn across the playa and attempting to make a connection or two. Dinner was nice, the drinks strong, and I decided to call it an early night as the exhaustion of travel combined with watching the sunrise caught up with me.

With so much stimulation, could this really be a slow, drawn out, miserable week? I thrashed around in my brain, trying for the life of me to justify what all these people were doing out here, and drifted off for a solid 10 hours.

***

Let go. It's time to charge. Fuck it. It was 8am and already hot. Polishing off a quick breakfast I decided to journey out alone. Pedaling to the outskirts, I circled around along the trash fence and took in a temporary movie theater, a scene of aliens dancing, a giant headless wire lady, a wooden forest surrounding a pyramid, and a Ferris-wheel like zoetrope with skeletons paddling for freedom across the playa.

Eschewing my bike, I walked myself through some sun salutations and sat in the dust- quieting my mind as mini-planes zipped overhead. Here I am. Where am I? It doesn't matter. We're here to enjoy. What? The simplicity. Whatever you want. It's all here. Can't you see the creativity of the human spirit?

As the sun rose high, and the temperature higher, I made tracks over the cracked and bumpy former lake bed for the temple. An emotional spot indeed. Words poured off of every wall: mourning lost ones, belting out urges, celebrating freedom, proclaiming everlasting love. A mellow chorus of bells chimed from within, as people sat about hugging, crying, meditating, reading, writing, thinking, playing songs, singing... being.

Though I couldn't find words to add to the sacred grounds at that point, the seed had begun to sprout.

***

The next four days were a blur of dancing and laughing, cooking and cleaning, telling tales and bonding with new friends, psychadelic art structures climbs, fantastic playa river-boat rides, imbibing of delicious food and substances, jovial celebration, and a healthy dose of introspective processing.

Beholding the temple burn I wasn't sure exactly what I had found, but the pulse was strong. Unwrapping from my "normal" existence I had stepped onto a temporary plane where ones individual energy was able to frolic with the penetrating energy of the greater collective conscious- in a delicate balance of freedom, creativity, joy and trust.

***
Now, looking toward shore, it's not so scary. I can see that the unspoken dance continues, but for now it must continue alone, until we find ourselves in a similar line-up again.

That is the magic of the energy of the universe- the is no Matter Out Of Place (MOOP- except plastics, gray water, poop, and misc trash of course!). Stay engaged, live for what you love, change is constant. There are always more waves to come.