Burning Man 2009

Photo courtesy of Mr. Nightshade

I’m a child of the Great Basin. Northern Nevada’s high desert is woven in my genetic code. I grew up with otherworldly sunsets, pure snow and mystical lakes.

I know this is where the heart of Mother Earth beats.

Every September, a few miles north of my home, the barren Black Rock Desert transforms into a booming civilization of 50,000. Living art, a gift economy, unadulterated self expression, large scale art installations and a towering 65 foot Burning Man find a home on the playa. I’ve been told these ‘things’ are only what’s on the surface of this monumental event.

I’ve never been to Burning Man, but I long to. Every year I stand behind a group of giddy Burners in line at the local grocery store. Sun screen, water, hats, water and hula hoops. I envy them and I laugh. At the end of the week I watch an endless convoy of cars, vans and RVs, christened with a fine dust veil, parade out town. I envy them and I laugh.

My husband has talked of going to Burning Man for the ten years I’ve known him. He wants to go so he can wield a flame thrower. He’s says this with a laugh, but I know he is only half joking. Nineteen years of wondering has me thinking. I should make a list.

Goggles, Hat, Camera, Flame Thrower….