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Burning man 9
I opened my eyes and was a bit surprised at my surroundings.I wasn't sure if I was still dreaming.As I began to enter my body, I realized I was indeed awake.I was just not in my tent. Instead, I found myself lying in the hammock dangling from the steel frame of the Fishbug.
I stretched and made my way out into the open air of the desert.The sun was only about 2 fingers above the horizon. It was still really early in Black Rock.
My mind began to string together the events from the night before, in an attempt to explain how I got to sleep inside the belly of Fishbug.My memories though hazy, were slowly starting to come to me. As I put it all together, I remembered riding around on an art car late.I guess I just chose to just crash out in the hammock.Oddly enough, my forgetting wasn't due to excessive anything either.The days were all just blending together.Time was moving by so quickly, it was hard to keep track of the events.
I jumped on my bike and felt a chill of the early morning air pass through me.The playa was deserted except for a few morning stragglers strolling the sand.The rare moment of quiet was much appreciated.
I rode further through the sleeping city, as the sun crept higher above the eastern horizon. Soon I pulled down Chaos Street and saw my neighbor Kimmeric two doors down boiling some water.Kimmeric was one of the artists I met at the Shipyard.He was a coconspirator of the Neverwas Haul (the gigantic Victorian house on wheels).
He waved as I passed, sitting in a camp chair completely wrapped in a thick Carhart jacket. The collar was zipped up to his ears and eyes.All I could see of him at first was his forehead and silver scalp of hair.
"Want some tea?" he asked through the fabric of his coat."I have extra water here."
"Sure." I said as I slowed my bike to a stop near his tent. The thought of hot tea sounded great.
"I got cups, so your all set." Kimmeric said.
"Thanks." I said hopping of my bike and grabbing a seat on the desert floor.
The pot began whistling and he pulled it off his stove.
"There you go." he said handing me the steaming mug.The warmth felt great on my hands.
"Thanks so much. This is great." I said taking a sip, slowly bringing myself to full consciousness.
"You're up early." he said."Must have been a good night."
"Yea, I am still trying to piece it all together." I answered.
"One of those nights huh?" he asked.
"Not exactly." I answered.
As we sat, an art car pulled down a side street blasting techno music disturbing the tranquility of the morning.We laughed to ourselves.
"Pretty ridiculous huh?" I said in response to the music.
"Yea, I know.This festival used to be a lot different.I have been coming to this place since 1991 you know."
"Wow.You're a pro.Was that when the festival was on a beach in San Francisco?" I asked trying to relate what little knowledge I had from the festivals roots.
"No I wasn't one of the 2 million people who supposedly was at that beach." He said sarcastically. "Everyone claims to have been a part of the beginning of the festival.I don't know how many people could have fit on that beach though. Someone has got to be lying." he laughed."When I started going though, there only about 200 of us.By '91 it had already moved to Nevada.In '93 I started the Java Cow ceremony." He explained."I would wake up early before the man burn and serve coffee to everyone."
"That is a good idea. Fresh coffee in the morning is sure to make you a lot of friends." I said. "Thanks for the tea by the way."
"No problem." He answered. The techno music was now only a faint pulsing hum.
"Where did the inspiration for the Java Cow come?" I asked.
"Well, I wanted to celebrate everyday rituals.There is something not fabricated about having coffee in the morning.It is something we all do that is completely ordinary.It is a part of life that is taken for granted." He said taking the occasional slurp of his tea.
"Brilliant." I said trying my best to follow the logic.
"I just grabbed icons of the west.A cow scull and morning coffee just went together in my mind.Manifest destiny combined with the caffeine to fuel it all." he laughed. "About 50 to a 100 people showed up on any given year.It was actually on one of the ticket stubs to the festival." He said."That was a long time ago." he said with a look of sadness in his eyes.
"Why stop a good thing?" I asked trying to dig a little deeper.
"I did it for almost a decade you know.That is a bit embarrassing.You know you have problems if you show up to a place like this for over 10 years straight." he laughed."I showed up one year and no one recognized me.The festival had grown so much that I was sort of obsolete. Burning Man swung more in the rave direction I guess.It sells tickets I guess.I knew things were different when I had a guy tell me, it was too early for this s*** as I attempted to carry out my annual Java Cow ceremony. That was the last year I did it." He explained.
"I am sorry to hear that." I said in absence knowing what else to say at the moment.
"It seemed like the man was on this pedestal.I was just a speck on a landscape." He said pouring more emotion into the conversation.
I remained quiet as he continued.
"Don't mind me.I just have the old guard mentality.That's all.I just don't like that this festival has gone from a spiritual experience to a gigantic party." Kimmeric said.
I kept quiet as he spoke.
"I don't mean to sound too critical." He said."I still come because of the art.That makes it all worth it to me."
"I think you have a right to feel what you feel though." I said in consolation.
I sat there trying to stay objective in a touchy conversation. I didn't really have an opinion at the moment.
I finished my cup of tea after a long silence.
"Thanks again for the tea."
"No problem.See you soon." He said.
It was a heavier conversation than I was ready for at that hour in the morning.
I walked back to my tent thinking about what he said.The conversation reminded me of a Chinese proverb my Italian grandfather used to say."All things change and we change with them."
With a place like this, you reap what you sow.Your experience is yours to craft and shape. If you go there just to get laid or something, your experience will probably reflect a person seeking just that.(Chances are though you probably wont if you are looking to hard for it)I believe what you do here mirrors your life outside the festival (just as you reflect your own life in everything you do).People don't come to Burning Man and create a new version of themselves, but rather release a part of them that already exists, free of social stigma (unless you are into shirtcocking or racial prejudice; two things that are almost universally accepted as "not cool" in my book).
Personally speaking, I had already found a lot of spirituality here so far.I had in only a few days received profound insight into my life and learned a great deal about human potential. Having no prior knowledge of the festival probably helped that process along considerably.It was still completely new for me. I might feel the same way Kimmeric does, if I had been coming here for years and years.It is hard to see things change that you are attached to.But, I don't really know how it was in the past and do not connect the same meanings to it that Kimmeric does. I only knew what I was witnessing in the present tense, of the festivals long history.I will say however, I was consciously trying my best to stay out of my own way, and staying open to whatever was happening in the moment.That was helping me craft my own unique experience.I was aware of at least that much and was going to continue to do so, hopefully beyond the festival as well. It was my ride after all.
I stepped inside my tent to relax a little and settle my mind.I lay down and took out my guidebook to figure out what was going on later. The ridiculous events that were about to take place, superimposed over my heavy conversation with the ex-Java Cow was pretty amusing.
Lil' Crackw**** Happy Hour at 4pm.Learn how to work the streets with professional Crackw****s.
Then there was the Shirtcockers ball at 5pm.I thought of Jess's negative feelings for these people as I read."Shirtcocking is not art." she said. "It is just nasty."I pictured a pants cannon firing at some unsuspecting pants-less pedestrian.(Pants cannons are exactly what they sound like and do exist at Burning Man) Rock out with your c*** out! Drink dance, eat!Contests for best shirt.Ladies join us for a laugh.
Next, I read Zombie movie night at 7:30pm.Join us for a mid-week scare! We'll be showing Dawn of the Dead.Bring your own chair and bowl for popcorn. I circled that one incase I was near 3:30 and Fossil later.I'm always down for a good, or bad zombie flick.
10:00pm Dance at the Fishbug.Come shake your fish feathers at the best critter on the playa. Music, and visuals provided by camp phage.
"Oh yea I almost forgot." I thought to myself. "There was going to be a dance party at the Fishbug tonight." My evening plans were settled.
I set the book down and leaned over on my dusty sleeping bag.A cloud lifted into the air causing me to cough. The hammock at the Fishbug was quickly becoming the better of the two options for places to crash. Still, I was going to at least attempt to make up for some much needed lost sleep.
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