I Burned The Man To Unlock My Freedom
“Damn, my bike lock is broken!” Newly single and well into the second half of my 30s, coated in a half inch of dust, I fumbled with the chain on my furry, LED-lit bicycle. I had arrived at the promised land, Black Rock City, after 14 years of unsuccessful attempts, and just two days in, I was already faced with the death knell to my experience, a bike with no lock.
A few weeks after college graduation, in the Spring of 2000, over grilled cheese at a Long Island diner, my high school classmates first acquainted me with Burning Man, the annual festival that occurs in the Nevada desert every year.
It planted a seed that this was where I would find my “people”. And more specifically, my partner.
In late August, over 70,000 people descend upon a temporary city that is known to participants as Black Rock. Built and burnt down within a month, this week-long ‘festival’ serves as a pilgrimage for people around the world to convene in a commerce-free community centered around art, music, and radical self-expression. It planted a seed that this was where I would find my “people”. And more specifically, my partner.
Just a week after first hearing about Burning Man, the name appeared once more. In the midst of reading Daniel Pinchbeck’s “Breaking…
