A frequently invoked mantra about Burning Man describes it as a temporary community based on the principles of self reliance and radical self-expression. It's the self-expression part that gets the most airplay: amazing art blah blah blah lots of blinky things blah blah blah enormous party in the desert blah blah blah. This is true and it's a big reason 30,000 people show up in the middle of nowhere. But it is the experience of surviving in order to take in the enormous-art-filled-blinky-light-party that I think is the crucible of Burning Man. This was driven home to me this year through a multitude of small but profound acts of kindness, caring, and generosity.
My carefully calculated plans were derailed by the RV breakdown and in many ways I'm grateful for this despite the significant increase in the hassle quotient. There would be no popsicles, fresh produce, public shade porch, or air conditioned refuge when the weather turned unbearable. Instead it was instant mashed potatoes in a cup, tuna in a foil packet, following the shadow of the dome to stay out of the sun, and an rented SUV packed to the gills with all my important possessions, none of which I could easily find, some of which I never found. For some not completely understood reason I had had my campmates bring my tent to the Playa, which completely saved my ass.
My experience at Burning Man was exhilirating but on the edge. I constantly confronted both by my overwhelming desire to be there and the unfolding, uncomfortable implications of Plan B. But, really it was perfect. Which brings me to a story that embodies the most profound lesson I took away from that home to my other one.
It was Friday night--the night before the Burn--and I was in a hole. I was not (I thought) dehydrated, just exhausted beyond belief. In a deepening funk I reclined in my tent, gulped water (thinking maybe I was dehydrated) and watched fire explode across city sky to a soundtrack of uninvited techno beats. I was becoming increasingly certain I was watching The Apocalypse unfold, which was my first solid clue that I needed to do something other than lay in my tent and sink into an abyss. But I needed help.
I pulled myself upright and found Lara standing in camp in her pink Hello Kitty coat: "I need your help. I need to get my shit together. I need to get out and be with friends and I can't do it by myself." "Of course, what do you need?" "I need water and I need to find my Fez." She helped me load up on water and find my Fez (actually my replacement Fez, see below).
And it was right about then that (the other) Mark, having retreated to his own space much as I had done but with better music, emerged from his tent. "Mark, we're going out, you should come with us" said one Mark to the other. "OK, but I need someone to be responsible for my hydration." "I'll handle it," I said. I grabbed a gallon jug of water and the two Marks, Lara, Gina, and Corinne ventured out into the city.
And at some point--maybe before getting lost in the Flight to Mars Funhouse, or possibly it was after we had conversed with the various dieties installed at the Man, but I'm sure it was before Lara and Corinne horrified a crowd with their regularly scheduled, much anticipated, cathartic brawl in which Lara did not pull her punches--at some point, anyway, I was again in need of help: "Does anybody have any lip stuff?" (If this seems like a minor request you have clearly not spent the amount of time camping in the desert required to make you feel as if your lips are about to either fall off or begin gushing blood, about two days.) Within five seconds, Corinne had yanked lip balm from her belly chain: "Here honey." It was the very same lip balm I'd given to Corinne four days before when she had the same urgent need.
For me, this little tale condenses the most profound dimension of Burning Man I experienced this year, but an aspect of the happening you really can't take a picture of . . . Lara ensures I have water and a Fez and doesn't for a moment question why finding my Fez is important, I make sure Mark has water, Corinne makes sure I have lip balm and she can make sure I have lip balm because I made sure she had lip balm days earlier.
Self-reliance my ass. Burning Man wouldn't work if people didn't make the attempt at self-reliance. But it also wouldn't work if circumstance didn't drive home the point that total self-reliance is an illusion and that when we humans are deeply connected with one another, in touch with our needs and limits, unafraid to ask for help, and always ready give without expectation we are simply better.