Don’t Miss The Best Part of Burning Man
Like I did
“There is NO FUCKING WAY this was worth it,” I thought as I lugged my shit off the Burner Express bus onto the dusty earth.
I’d left almost a day ago and taken 2 planes and a bus to get to the middle of Nevada’s Black Rock Desert from New York. I’d spent hours at the Reno Walmart waiting in lines to buy supplies and pick up the bike I’d preordered. I’d strained my neck and shoulders in order to carry all the things I’d spent hours and hours on Amazon collecting in preparation of surviving for 8 days in an arid desert with extreme temperatures and dust storms. Not to mention the upwards of $1,500 I’d spent in order to make it all happen.
There is no conceivable way this is worth it, I repeated.
And I was right. Burning Man was not worth it in any conceivable way. Because it was beyond the human imagination. People say that we may never be capable of understanding the universe. The idea of “infinite expansion” makes my head hurt. I’m telling you, burning man is also beyond your comprehension. Reading this or that article, seeing pictures — it won’t do it justice. You just have to go.
Looking across the playa at a never-ending landscape of whites, pinks, oranges, fizzling into a blue sky as the desert finally starts to warm with the rising sun after a freezing night of LEDs and bass. Other burners in their crazy outfits. Displays of love, disbelief, and gratitude at every turn.
And all those happy people are made happy largely by not-for-profit camps providing food, music, art, 20-foot speakers — you name it. All in honor of blowing your mind. The intention is to make others happy and build a peaceful open community full of generosity and void of self-interest.
What I missed
Planning to get to the desert and survive during my first burn was incredibly difficult. I’d never been before and decided to go relatively late in the game (with less than 2 months to go). Thankfully, I was able to join a camp somewhat last minute.
As required, I signed up for some camp cleaning shifts, and when I arrived, I asked the camp heads if there was anything I could help with whenever I had downtime. I paid the $120 dues.
But I didn’t build our deck or assist with logistics or anything else like that. And I didn’t even know who within the camp of ~100 people did what.
In a way, I took it all for granted.
The future of Black Rock City
More and more, I see attendees pay more and more to go to Burning Man to be part of camps that provide everything for them. Some don’t even bring anything for themselves besides their wardrobes.
The camp White Ocean, for example, boasts a festival-grade stage as well as internationally renowned DJs, and, according to a friend of mine who was a member, costs thousands of dollars per person. They provide catered meals from a hired staff. They have their own private porto-potties (even though porto-potties are also provided by Burning Man as part of your ticket price), yurts and bikes for each of their members — everything taken care of. You just ejaculate all your money and poof! You are in Black Rock City (BRC) at the best party in the world. Some people call this a “turn-key camp.”
Burning man is a non-profit organization and a burn is supposed to be a haven from the forces of capitalism. For example, logos are banned as part of the principal of decommodification. You’re not supposed to promote your business at burning man. And the organization regularly denies offers from brands to hand out free stuff on the playa. Denying free useful stuff! Sounds crazy right?
But it’s not. To escape elitism and the ulterior motives of The Seller so omnipresent in our normal lives, they must have strict rules. And I’m telling you, it makes all the difference. It’s a breath of dusty air.
Yet the forces of the green man are sneaky and have a power so pervasive, you don’t even realize what is happening til’ it has all gone to fuck.
I’m not pointing fingers or blaming anyone. On the contrary, this is what the market of the default world demands and so people are providing it. There are people going to Burning Man who otherwise wouldn’t because of it. And that is a good thing. The playa is a beautiful place that can touch your life. We should welcome everyone.
But you need to know what you are missing out on by paying more money to do less.
Use your hands
Throwing money at a situation is not the same as putting your blood sweat and tears into it. We’re taught to think it is. To think of our time in terms of opportunity cost. Three hours of my time is worth $300 so I should just work at my office job, make the money, and then give it to my camp instead putting 3 hours of my time building structures with gloves and wood in the heat of the desert.
Not true. Not true. Not true.
Yes give your money; it’s needed. But you will not truly know what Burning Man is unless you’ve put your time into it too. Because the only thing we all really have is time. We pretend our time is worth this or that and ascribe monetary value to it based on our salaries. However, I hate to break it to you, but every single person on this planet’s time is equally valuable. We all get the same amount of it on average. And it’s up to us to decide to use it to do things that matter.
I didn’t see what I’d missed in BRC until I went to Fuego Austral, Argentina’s regional burn, the following winter. It has a few hundred attendees (slightly fewer than BRC’s 70,000). And there, I saw the real point of Burning Man:
To build something together to enrich a community.
To build something with others that comes to fruition in the joy of those around you. In Buenos Aires, where I lived a few months, I went to the meetings; I aided in the creation of our camp’s match-making service; I helped build the shade structure in 90 degree heat and I paid my dues, just enough to cover the cost of everything we needed to survive in a field full of cow dung for 4 days (cows — so Argentinian) and it was like 40 bucks.
No, Fuego Austral did not have anything near the Wow! factor of BRC’s burn. But I was part of something. And it gave me a sort of lasting happiness I didn’t feel at my first burn. Like in BRC, I saw so may people’s minds and hearts touched with love and happiness. But unlike in BRC, I felt I helped bring that to those people. And I felt a closeness to my camp I wasn’t able to feel that first year in Nevada.
I encourage you to watch a man burn, somewhere. And if you do, then participate. Contribute to the incredible.
Ask not what your camp can do for you, ask what you can do for your camp.
The next time I attend a burn, I want to feel like I helped make it all happen. Because nothing beats that. Not even understanding the universe’s expansion ;).
