White Noise, Emily Trutt

Wind Sculpture

Dust of my Dreams-- Burning Man

I knew I had to go.  It was one of those voices—insistent, hooking into the consciousness, tugging from some deep place. I felt instinctively I would be part of a community, something so lacking where I live; a neighborhood of dominating, people-eating 2 car garages.

 I made a sign for the back of my van that said “Burning Man or Bust” To celebrate the event that, over the years, has been imbued with cult status among its growing number of followers. I was a mere 20 minutes out of Fremont when someone honked and waved at me from the sea of cars on the freeway—they knew where I was going or were going there themselves.  Yahoo! This was what I was waiting for, a place to be a part of something with wider horizons, and feel a sense of belonging.  The closer I got, the more people I saw headed for the same place.  There was a great feeling of camaraderie on the road, and my heart swelled with giddy joy and the kind of anticipation I felt when I was a kid and it was Christmas Eve.  My brother in law, a veteran Burner swears on his father’s grave that everyone must experience BM once in their lifetime. 

There are a few things that set the context for Burning Man and all that it is:  The culture at BM is created wholly by the people who attend, and is not a place that is fabricated with the sole intent of selling you something (other than your entry ticket).  There is nothing for sale, except ice and coffee the profits from which go to the local school. The event operates on gift culture and generosity.  One is encouraged to bring gifts for others, not just material gifts, but gifts of art and of experience.  Corporate presence (logos, advertising, etc) is discouraged. Be prepared.  Leave no trace. Participate. Piss Clear (drink lots of water that is). 

I arrived right at the beginning, Monday morning for a full week.  Burning Man radio urged everyone to use the porta-potties responsibly.   As a virgin at the gates, I had to ring the bell and I was welcomed with a big warm hug.  They searched the van for any hippies that may have convinced me to hijack them, and then I was on the dusty road in the caravan to the Playa.