Reflections in the “Carnival of Mirrors”
I’ve been to Burning Man twice and really never had great social experiences, but rich internal ones. I always rebelled against the idea of doing drugs, staying up all hours of the night, or hooking up with strangers. I did my best to experience the opposite of shallow hedonism. I woke up alone to the sunrise, walking into oblivion — sometimes with tingles of inspiration, others tears, buckets of tears of sorrow, sadness, angry, frustration, and places I needed to forgive, heal, or otherwise move on. Much time was spent in the Temple, reading the stories of others and tuning into universal empathy.
This year, I’ve done a lot of self work. And my experience was different.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve viewed working on the “self” as a selfish endeavor — one of a middle-aged crisis, looking for meaning in self-help books, spirituality in pseudo forms, and and in general, another way to escape into self importance.
Since then, I’ve learned something new — something counterintuitive, something that I couldn’t have understood without diving in and giving myself the opportunity to be loved by practicing compassion and dedication to myself. Among the things I’ve done are: weekly therapy, personal training, private yoga lessons, regular physical activity, and a green smoothie regimen. Through all of this, I’ve learned to listen to myself, the body-mind, communicate better, and generally tap into a deeper connection with my soul on the physical plane.
What I didn’t realize is that loving myself would give me a greater capacity to love others, more room to meaningfully listen, and become interactive instead of reactive. What I didn’t see is that by healing myself, I might be able to begin to heal the sphere around me. What I didn’t understand is that all of the work that I do — from collaboration to reframing the economy is dependent on the job I do first and foremost on the inside. How can we heal the world if we can’t start at home?
By showing someone grace when they are mean, patience when they show up with anger, open arms when they stumble, a willing heart when they meet you, we heal together. We unite. We see each other. Instead of ego games, we start to see our spirits sing in harmony. Ultimately, what we all want is to be loved, belong, and feel safe. When one of us can act as a mirror for another, a mirror that’s soft and stable in it’s reflection, we have to see. That’s the power of love. It doesn’t judge — it reveals.
Which brings me to Burning Man this year. The theme was “Carnival of Mirrors,” which is apt considering that the setup of the city is part carnival, part festival, part spiritual, and part and LSD trip, even without the acid. While people were as kind as I remember, as huggy as I could hope for, and very much into the aspect of gifting, I did notice something that I couldn’t turn away from — actually a few things.
Burning Man is not radically inclusive. You really can’t get there for less than $1000 and that’s without considering the opportunity cost of not working for a week. The majority of Burners are white men who are middle to upper class. The demographic spread is roughly 40 percent women and 60 percent men. Basically, all of this is to say, people with money are the attendees of Burning Man. Given the high costs, there is a really no way around that.
The amount of waste required for 70,000 people to suffer in the desert for one week is terrifying. There is nothing sustainable about Burning Man. People buy new costumes, rent RVs, setup huge, elaborate “camps,” and do a shit ton of drugs. Is this spiritual? Conscious? Or is it just fun because we can — sort of like Vegas?
Burning Man is not about haves and the have nots, but rather about the haves learning about “having.” Abundance is ripe there. Gifting certainly alters transactional mentality. And letting go of the ego of who one is in the “default world” is somehow liberating, especially for those who are wrapped what they do being a primary reflection of who they are.
Perhaps past all of the drugged up, neon lit mayhem is a deeper thread that teaches people who have enough for themselves to find a way to be of more service in the world, to understand the value of contribution beyond “what’s in it for me.” I know of enough social good projects, companies, communities and endeavors inspired by Burning Man to understand that what you see isn’t the end of the road nor the ultimate outcome.
There’s so much to learn from Burning Man beyond what meets the eye. While this was my third time and I’m not sure I need to go again, I feel complete in the experience, enriched by the love that I felt, and cleaned out. Just being offline for a week was a huge blessing — confronting even.
I’m hugely grateful for all of the lessons, friendships, rekindled love, and the reflections I saw in the Carnival of Mirrors.
~ Experience at Burning Man 2015, written by sharing economy author, Chelsea Rustrum.
