Posts Tagged ‘see you in the dust’

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February 12, 2017

Sweet home.

I’m not there yet.

Even though I am home.

That’s not the home I am talking about.

“Welcome home,” he shouted into the dusty air, “ring the bell.”

I rang the bell.

I skipped the rolling around in the dust though.

Fuck that shit.

It’s dusty enough up in this mess.

Yup.

I’m planning my return trip to the playa.

It’s a little early, I suppose, but I am going to get my little early ducks in a row.

I’ve decided that I am not working this year.

I am going to go and just have fun.

I am going to stay with a different camp than I have before, I’ve been a member of the camp since it’s inception and have spent time there, and have friends there, and one of them mentioned to me that it was time to come out and camp with them this year and not work and really enjoy the festival.

The art.

The joy.

The get about and the get around.

I found out my when my first weekend of classes will be for the fall semester.

Last year they fell on the same weekend of the event and I was not able to go for the full amount of time.

I went up early and left early.

I was only there four days.

It was lovely and I’m super glad I went, but it was not enough and I didn’t get to see any of the burns because I left Wednesday morning of the event.

By plane.

There is that.

It was one hell of an amazing experience to fly out of Burning Man.

I don’t know if that is necessarily happening, but I’m going to let it all fall together.

I decided in my heart to go last Sunday and then I did some research and discovered that the low-income ticket application will open in a few days.

I need to update my profile and the minute it opens, February 15th, I will be applying for it.

One of the big reasons that have always worked the event is to get into the event.

But.

I don’t want to work it this year.

I want to actually go and not be tied down and when I researched a little I discovered I could definitely afford the low-income ticket and I will apply to it.

Then yesterday I discovered that the first weekend of the fall semester for my cohort will be the weekend before the event.

Thank God.

I can go!

Well.

I won’t quite say that yet.

I still have to clear it with work.

I will ask on Monday if it’s a possibility.

I already have a lot of my vacation time tied up to my trip to Paris in May, but I do have some days that are not accounted for and I want to use them for the event.

I may have to do some negotiation with the family in regards to it, but I think that they will be amenable to me going.

I sure do hope so.

It was me doing a happy dance today when I told my friend before class that I found out the weekend dates for the fall and that there was not a conflict with school, it set my day, I was super pumped.

Granted that feeling dissipated, class work was challenging and showing up for it and being present for the material made me completely forget about the event, about travel times and dates and plans and things and stuff and more things.

But.

When I got home and said “hello house,” I smiled, my eyes drawn to the print on the wall, a photo shot from above, from an airplane above the event and I remembered quickly.

Home.

And it will be the ten-year anniversary of my best friends passing and me taking his ashes out to the Temple.

It will be my 11th burn in a row.

It is a part and parcel of me.

There are experiences that I have had there that I cannot rationalize or explain.

Love and light and dirt and dust and spiritual transmogrification.

So many times.

Not just once, but time and time and time again.

Dancing the tango with a beautiful 24-year-old man from Norway who was tall and blonde and yes, heh, Nordic, with a gorgeous sweet accent and the bliss of being kissed under the stars, bent backward and kissed as though every song of the stars above depended upon the breath in and out of our bodies as we melted into the dust.

Riding out to the trash fence at sunrise on the art car “A Horse With No Name” and seeing the shots of fire thrown out against the playa, piercing and bright and bathing the dust with golden smote, softening the blue smoke bathed mountains with flames of light.

Running into a friend unexpectedly in a church pew by an organ and telling him a fairy tale in the mid afternoon heat and swelter.

Reciting poetry underneath the upraised arms of the Man and the face of the man when I looked into his eyes.

“Do you know how easy it is to fall in love with you when you recite poetry,” he said.

Why do you think I recite poetry?

I want you to love me.

And somehow.

I don’t know how.

I don’t need to know how.

I find myself easier in my person, able to let that love in, to be scaffold with it, to allow myself to be exactly who I am, hair bedecked with flowers, standing tall in cowboy boots with polka dot socks and my crinoline blowing in the breeze, my umbrella of poesy flowers opened to shelter me from the sun, face bedecked with smiles.

I am somehow more me and entirely at peace with who I am and how I am and it’s not so weird, it’s just me, and I’m not that unique, I mean, did you see what she was wearing?

Or not wearing.

Of course I want to go home.

It’s home.

Anchored in between the Black Rock Mountains and the Calico’s, underneath the rising moon and the setting sun, the howl of love that whisper whips across the playa until we are all crying out of our aloneness a coming together, a community, an expression of magic, yes.

That.

Magic.

May I always be a part of that kind of love and mystery.

And.

Yeah.

Fingers crossed.

I’ve cleared the first hurdle, school conflict, now to ask off from work for event.

Then.

I’ll get a ticket after that.

And.

Soon.

I’ll see you in the dust.

I’ll be there to welcome you home.

I promise.

 

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Unboxing

July 22, 2016

I hear it’s this thing.

This weird little things, where people post videos of themselves unboxing packages, iphones, laptops, Disney tchotchkes, etc.

Although, I think it’s meant specifically for technology gadgets.

I had an official unboxing moment just now.

Except.

Perhaps I should call it an “unenveloping.”

I GOT MY BURNING MAN TICKET!

I AM NOT EXCITED AT ALL.

AT ALL!

OH MY FUCKING GOD!

I’M GOING TO BURNING MAN!

Heh.

Sorry.

Couldn’t help myself.

I knew that the ticket had arrived as I got a message via e-mail that it had been delivered earlier this afternoon while I was at work.

That put a big old smile on my face.

Great big smile.

And there it was, just outside my door, sitting patiently waiting for me, in a brown envelope from UPS in the shared hallway of my spot.

I got it.

I put it on my table.

I hung up my coat.

I returned a few texts.

I lit some candles.

I mean.

Hello.

Ambiance.

Burning Man is sexy, no?

Then.

I delayed gratification.

I ate a sweet, ripe, black plum.

Which, though you may not know is very apropos.

“My favorite fruit is a black plum,” Shadrach told me, biting into a luscious black plum he’d gotten at the Civic Center Farmer’s Market.

Then he told me a story about this little girl in kindergarten who had a very sad lunch and he shared what he had all the while thinking, she can have anything she wants, just not the plum, plums are my favorite.

“Oh!  I just love plums,” she said and smiled.

I can see it.

I can see the sweet inner turmoil of six year old Shadrach.

Then.

He smiles and hands it to her.

I love plums.

Mostly because of that story.

And though it was not meant to be a serendipitous thing, it was, I now realize, the absolutely right thing to do, to stop and eat a plum before I opened my Burning Man tickets.

Shadrach died years ago.

His death is the reason I went to Burning Man in the first place.

He used to host Decompression parties at his loft in the Dogpatch.

“You are so Burning Man!” He would tell me. “You so need to go!”

He was right, he usually was.

But I never quite got it together.

I always was a little behind the ball.

Shadrach was in a coma for a week in the ICU at General Hospital, the details don’t bear repeating, suffice to say, it was an excruciating week and also one filled with so much love and tenderness and family and fellowship and community.

I still feel the ripple affects of that week in my life and in my heart.

He officially died the 30th of July.

One month later I was at Burning Man with a packet of his ashes.

“Do you think it’s too late to go?” I asked a friend at the hospital, “Burning Man, that is, I should go, I should take his ashes there, do you think that would be appropriate?”

The response was a resounding yes, a quiet yes, but a yes nonetheless that allowed the seed that Shadrach had planted years before in my heart to finally crack open.

“Sometimes God breaks your heart open so that you can know more love,” she said to me, quietly in passing as I bawled in a church somewhere in the Mission.

And out of that broken wide open heart grew this wilding wilderness of flowers and fire and magic and danger and excitement and glory and friends and more friends and extraordinary, beyond belief experiences.

This year marks number 10 for me.

Ten burns.

In a row.

Not bad.

Not bad at all.

Each its own challenge.

Each its own experience.

Each having its own heartbreaks, awakenings, striped raw emotional catharsis.

Always the same.

And yet.

Always different.

Dusty.

Hot.

Cold.

Windy.

Extreme fluctuations in weather, rainbows, rain storms, fucking hail one year, double rainbows, warm nights, freezing cold oh my god I’m going to die of exposure nights.

The year that I had a severe allergic reaction to wood smoke from a forest fire that was so big the smoke was drifting in from hundreds of miles away and I ended up in the med tents getting my nasal cavity washed out and crying like a helpless baby.

All the dancing.

Every year.

On top of cars, art cars, ships broke down in the sea of playa, on my bicycle, in the dust, at the trash fence, at the burn, riding around in sailing sloops, getting a hold of golf carts and riding out into deep playa on art tours.

Going out and taking photographs.

Sunsets.

Sunrises.

Home.

Oh, it’s home.

And I know I sound like a kid, a happy, crazy, woo-woo kid, but I sort of don’t care.

Especially since I went through the heart break of thinking I wasn’t going to get to go.

And now.

Well.

Over the moon might actually be a bit of an understatement.

I was thinking about things today as well, prep and all the stuff and things.

And I realized that I am going to have to really just let it all happen exactly how it’s suppose to happen, to not force things, manipulate things, to go light and bright, easy breezy carefree.

Maybe I don’t co-ordinate with my OG playa family and get my bike back up and running.

Maybe I walk like I did my first event.

Maybe I stop worrying about a tent and just go with the two man that was offered to me.

It’s not like I’m going to be there very long.

The ride, again, will happen, there and back.

I know it.

Things just work out the way they are supposed to.

My heart is wide open and the flower planted there so long ago continues to bloom and unfurl.

The love has not faded.

Only grown deeper, stronger, more entrenched in me.

Grateful beyond words for this experience.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

I’ll see you in the dust.

 

 

Home*

August 17, 2014

And here I am at Burning Man.

Good to be home.

Good to have been given my first and quite spectacular gift without expecting it, a bracelet from Naked Bob–black rubber like those Lance Armstrong Live Strong bracelets, with the slogan on it: “Naked Bob’s Gun Camp For Kids Burning Man 2014.”

I am deeply honored.

My favorite part of the bracelet is that there is another little message in black embossed on the inside of the bracelet which says, “fuck you.”

God, I love you Burning Man.

I also don’t know how much of this blog I am going to be able to write.

I don’t have a hook up yet to charge, but I do have access to the internet and that is awesome.  It’s a great privilege and one I do not take lightly.

I will do my best to post every day and put up photos when I can.

I just shot photographs with my Iphone 5c today, nothing with my Fuji.

That will be rectified tomorrow.

For now, it is just really nice to be here.

I have gotten my trailer set up and it’s beginning to feel a lot like Burning Man.

The stars are so deep and full and rich, I have the door to the trailer open and it is just like looking into the heart of the Universe.

It’s one of my favorite things about coming out so early, there’s so little light pollution, it is as if I could just reach up and touch them.

The whole world makes me feel like I can just reach out and touch it.

The mountains, the flat of the playa, the overturned bowl of Delphic blue, the deep high sky that seems only to be over this particular place and time and it delights me that I get to be a part of it once again.

Granted there are always challenges.

I seem to have caught a cold from one of my charges–all three of them and two of the mom’s this past week have had a cold–and my nose is tender, which does not bode well for being out in the dust.

Fortunately, it is early and there’s not a lot of traffic to kick up the dust and the rain seems to have passed and its great weather.

It was hot when we landed, but not unbearably hot and at one point when we were getting water in Gerlach I just wanted to sit out in the sun and soak it all into my bones to carry back with me when I go back to that socked in fog city, San Francisco.

It’s going to be a long haul, but I am happy to have gotten here and to have my things arranged and ready to go for my first day as playa nanny.

I have my laminate.

I’ll get a radio most likely as well.

I got my utility belt out and it’s loaded with hand salve and lip balm and my Sigg water bottle just hooks right onto the belt.  I also have my goggles and bandana and sunblock ready for tomorrow.

And all my finery.

“I feel like I stand out like a sore thumb,” a new friend confided in me at the Commissary as we stood out in a sea of dusty black.

“Don’t worry,” I said and patted her arm, “I will be doing it up in style tomorrow, I feel really unredressed, frankly, being here in my jeans and tennis shoes.”

I had not had the chance to change-up my travel outfit into my playa clothes as the dropping of the family’s trailer had been derailed and was late getting set up.

We all had dinner in our “street clothes.”

And then after dinner I had visitors drop by camp.

I got to see friends and hang out in the back of a truck bed out underneath the twilight sky, dusky velvet with violet love and indigo sparkled with pinks and mauve.

My friends were so beautiful it hurt my heart a little to look at them.

That might be perhaps what I appreciate the most about Burning Man–it breaks my heart open again and again and forces me to let more love into my being.

“The wind is blowing in my eyes, that’s why I am tearing up,” I shared with them, and though true, it was also not true, they were so rich and stunning and lovely to look upon it brought tears to my eyes.

To be blessed to be in the presence of such luminous beauty is an honor.

I love my life.

I love my friends.

I can’t wait to see the rest of them as they trickle in.

*This is where my computer decided to punk out on me and said no more blog lady pants go to bed*

And now it’s tomorrow.

Or today.

Or my first day on playa, true, my first morning.

I slept well, it took a moment, to fall asleep in a new place the first night is always a bit of a challenge, but it was done.

Unfortunately I woke up an hour before my 7 a.m. alarm.

Fortunately I woke up an hour before my 7 a.m. alarm.

I got to see the sunrise, and that’s always a nice thing to do.

Lots of folks at Burning Man see the sunrise, but they are usually on the other end of it, staying up late to see it happen.

I tend to be up early.

My shifts officially start at 8 a.m.

I have to be up and dressed, a visit to the port-a-potty, sunblock, bed made, prayers said, utility belt strapped on, and ready to hit the ground running.

The day was great to start, though, I will admit I am tired now and it would not be a bad idea to take a nap.  I don’t know that I am going to get one today, I think there will be days I do, but today being the first day and the mama and the papa doing all the stuff, it may be hard to get one in.

My charge is down, which is how I am able to write at the moment, and my computer is charging, which seemed to be the issue last night, ran out of juice.

I have yet to run out of juice myself and I am hoping to keep it that way.

More dusty adventures to come.

 

PS

If you are coming out to the great dust bowl family reunion and want to visit, I am located in a Bambi Airstream at 8:45 & C at Camp Equilibrium.  Just ask for “Mary Fucking Poppins,” or “The Poppins.”

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