“What do you and Giulio do for fun? And I mean capital ‘F’ Fun, not just everyday fun?” asked our friend Bobbi Lee to my wife last winter.
Over the following months, we seemed to often return to that same question, amongst each other and also with friends, curious about where conversations would lead us.
I turned 45 this year and more than ever I have been feeling the pressure emblematic of this phase of life. Sort of stuck between the generation before me and the one after me, often dealing with multiple major challenges: aging parents, dying parents, mental health, partnership, finances, job requirements, and kids of course and their own well-being. Fun is not something we have managed to prioritize.
And that’s why, on another brilliant suggestion from my wife, we decided to go to Burning Man. We were searching for capital “F” Fun.
I had a vague idea of what Burning Man was. I knew it was in the Nevada desert (I can’t say America topped the list of my preferred destinations), I knew it offered some of the best electronic music in the world and I knew it was heavily centred around art. The little I knew about it was enough to convince me to say yes.
After lengthy preparations, learning about the gathering and its values, as well as its specific location and expected challenges (highly recommended because there is an element of survival in a desert where the only thing you can buy is ice), we finally pulled into the event lineup.
Due to poor weather, the lineup would turn out to be 21 hours long, but we didn’t care. Without kids in tow, we remembered that having fun wasn’t so difficult and that being stuck during a dust storm in a spacious van with a bed, music and snacks was a quietly carefree moment that we could quickly lean into. We were off to a good start.
I reflected plenty on what I wanted to share, on the specific experiences we had, and even drafted an initial article. I scrapped it. It sucked. Not only do I not possess the skills to share in writing what Burning Man is like, but in many ways Burning Man is too much to be reduced into a story. The feeling was not unlike attempting to take a picture of something mesmerizing that refuses to be captured. No matter what you do, the result is mediocre at best. A delightful act of disobedience that well incapsulates the spirit of the event, which is known to occur in the temporary existence of Black Rock City.
I reckon that we made a good choice by putting our phones down. The invitation, after all, was clear: to fully experience this strange dream-like world, you must be moseying around to the full extent of its meaning. Slowly, lazily, with a lack of direction that becomes somehow purposeful. This endless and unapologetic series of spontaneous moments, a big contrast to an otherwise strictly scheduled home life, clashed heavily with any form of structures and it was the best gift we could ask for.
There were however several themes that weaved our experience at Burning Man together, and that perhaps helped us make better sense of it. Those I feel compelled to share.
Art
On the first Wednesday, we spotted a large structure in the distance and decided to investigate. As we approached the piece, we could hardly believe our eyes: a giant gnome, several stories high, fully made out of reclaimed wood. A hidden staircase leads incomers into its outstretched hands and as you turned towards the figure, the expression on the gnome’s face immediately summoned memories of being a kid. It was that feeling of being in awe of something, except in this case, we were the object of admiration. I blushed as I attempted a clumsy bow.
It felt so beautiful to reconnect with a feeling we inevitably or at least often forget as we get older.
Art is one of the pillars of the Burning Man community and I heavily subscribe to that paradigm. Art can transport you into a different world, bring us together, distract and recenter us, and even facilitate those hard conversations we often shy away from, especially these days.
We were blessed with an enormous amount of art (over 400 pieces) and probably managed to check out less than a quarter of it. Burning Man is hard to capture in many ways, and this is one of them. It’s simply impossible to take it all in.
Music
On the second Wednesday (aka Thursday), we ventured east towards the Pyramid, that some whispered had been bankrolled by Elon Musk himself. The vibe was a bit different than what we had experienced up to that point: more manicured, and surprisingly clean considering the setting. There, we caught The Human Experience playing, followed by the Polish Ambassador. Beautifully crafted world sounds, filled with live elements and singing. It was slower than other dance floors, more intentional, with pauses between songs (rather than blending from one song to the other) that allowed for a true appreciation of each piece and of the artists. So many songs we have danced to in our living room, we were now listening to live on really loud speakers. It was awesome! I am not much of a dancer but it felt impossible to not move my body and while I hadn’t consumed anything out of the ordinary (yes, you can be relatively sober at Burning Man), I felt high as a kite.
It was a party, but it was also a celebration. It almost seemed like we were all screaming “we are all here, in the middle of the desert partying our asses off! Two weeks prior there was only sand. Now it’s a madhouse of costumes, dilated pupils and giant smiles!” It was capital “F” Fun.
The Sacred
I have come to realize that partying without intention is not necessarily more than acting like an idiot. I can do the latter quite well, but everything changes when you put a little intention behind what you do.
The temple was a place for reflection, always quiet, filled with pictures of loved ones, gifts and memories that eventually would get burned on the Sunday evening. Symbolic personal deaths and real loss merged in a strange soundscape of people sobbing and the haunting noise of a nail gun putting images up.
For most, there was a reason to visit the temple, because loss has something for everybody.
On the Sunday, it was surreal to watch it all burn. Eighty thousand some people doing something they had not managed to do up to that point: sitting together in a quiet reverence.
Community
Everything always and inevitably seemed to converge towards the building block of Burning Man: organic human connection. As you walked around, you would be inevitably and skilfully lured into different camps by expert hecklers, seducing you with promises of cold drinks, hand massages, spoken words, giant slides, tasty bagels or whatever it was their camp was offering.
This is a significant difference from other large gatherings I have attended. Its deeply participatory nature implies a strong gifting and offering culture. May it be as an individual or as a camp, you are there to share.
On the third Wednesday (aka Friday), we found ourselves drinking Turkish coffee and sipping on a smoothie at one of the many camps present. A man dressed like a cop entered the space, and both AM and I took a second look. The second look revealed that he was not a cop, as his very short sparkly shorts and booby pin testified, but by then he had noticed us staring and promptly came over to write us a fine. He seemed to be searching for the right words to write down. As we protested he sat down with a big smile.
What started off as silly turned into a beautiful, then serious, then beautiful again and finally silly conversation between three humans that had just met.
There is truly a place for everybody at Burning Man, even the grumpy ones, even the influencers and the Trump supporters. However, there was no orgy this year. A big storm destroyed the orgy dome and the organizers were left with 70 litres of lube to move.
Final reflection
Somehow, as I returned home, I found myself drawing parallels between Black Rock City and Haida Gwaii.
We live in a place where nature is in charge and she is fierce.
We know what food gifting does within our community.
And witnessing a pole raising is a meaningful reminder of how the sacred meets celebration.
It seems worth mentioning that a quick look at the core principles of Burning Man on their website (such as reciprocity, radical reliance and participation) are principles we practice most days when living on Haida Gwaii. I took that as a good sign.
Would I go back? Maybe. It was a big production to get down there.
Did we find what we were looking for? We certainly did.
