This is my fourth Burning Man, and every year it is completely different, except for a few core factors. The weather has not stayed the same, ranging from blazing hot in the day and very comfortably warm at night (1998), to freezing cold day and night (1999). There has been rain, and incredible wind and dust storms (1997,1998, 1999, 2000). OK, so the wind and dust are pretty much constants, albeit pretty unpredictable.
The event itself is constantly changing too. From the 10,000 people in 1997 to nearly 27,000 citizens in 2000. Rules and regulations have grown out of necessity with the crowds. No guns, no driving through camps (unless you are an art car), no fires in camp... the list grows yearly.
Even the Burn itself changes with each incarnation. In 1997, I was amazed as the man went up in flame and pyrotechnics. In 1998, I was absolutely befuddled and stunned at the explosive display. 1999 saw a SNAFU send the man up in flames prematurely, sending a tangible wave of disappointment through the crowd (The running comment seemed to be, "What the fuck happened?"). 2000 saw another malfunction, and a lull in energy that was hard to explain, but not nearly as pronounced as the year before.
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\The cauldron changes year by year. I'm still wondering at the significance of a sailfish to Burning Man, but then, I think that's part of the Burning Gestalt.... wonderment. |
Last year, I wrote a long essay about how I felt the event had changed for me. But this year, wandering around after the burn and chatting with Kat, Greg, and Barbara... I realized that comparing the merits of each year against the past is not only an exercise in futility, but it cheapens the current experience. I think the moment of clarity happened for me as I emerged from the small end of the Ammonite this year. As I mentioned in my 1997 reminiscence , the Ammonite structure was the turning point to my Burning Man experience. In 1997, I entered the Ammonite a camera toting, shorts-clad tourist. I exited a "participant" with a new perspective on this freaky happening. This year, I crawled through the ammonite again, filled this time with disillusionment and cynicism toward the whole Burning Man event. When I crawled out, dusty but exhilerated, my attitude had changed. The magic had returned. |
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It's OK to remember the years past, but it's not OK to expect each year to live up to the magic you experienced before. You have to bring your own magic, and let it blend and meld with everyone else's. You cannot expect Burning Man to make your experience for you, you have to be responsible for your own experience. And when the Burning Man Organization, or the BLM Rangers, or the desert itself try to crush the life out of your experience, you have to be willing to move past it... move above and beyond. Circumvent the system. And that's the idea, isn't it? Isn't this why so many of us come? Part of what makes it work, at least for me, is the challenge of meeting new obstacles... whether they be to my psyche or to my body... and overcoming them. Burning Man provides those obstacles in the form of art, personalities, and natural phenomena. And that comes damned close to answering the question... why do I keep coming back? |
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