I had such a great time at Burning Man last year. It was my first time and my brother-in-law graciously gave up his ticket so that my sister to take me. Mie is a veteran and was the perfect guide in every way. She knew what to bring and where to go but also knew me enough to let me wander around, explore, and take it all in at my own pace, re-living the event through my eyes.
I am not nearly as invested in the burner community as she is but it makes me sad to read the latest headlines about how it’s collapsing under its own popularity. Burning Man Jumps the Shark is the cover story in this week’s Bay Guardian and the New York Times writes about tech elite hiring “sherpas” to set things up and clean up afterwards.
When I saw a Delorean at a Grateful Dead show I knew it was the beginning of the end. The clean, aluminum lines of the gull-wing doors stood out in stark contrast to the ramshamble chaos of everything around it.
You can’t push out the grime and sweat. It’s an integral part of the experience. Through it you come together and are reborn as part of the tribe.
Eating sushi in an air conditioned yurt is doing it wrong. Maybe it’s time for another funeral?
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