It’s getting cooler in Providence, where we returned from a three-week road trip this past Friday. The ostensible reason for the journey out west was Burning Man; a couple of family visits all over the country (Saint Louis and somewhere near Grass Valley, California) and a visit to friends in Santa Rosa were in order as well, so renting a car made sense. It turned out to be convenient and fun; Ethan and I both enjoyed our second road trip as a couple, counting the honeymoon a few months ago.
Burning Man was… well, most of all it was satisfying. Even though I didn’t get to see nearly as much of the city as I’d wanted, nor participate in as many events: all of the good intentions of starting each day with yoga somewhere on the playa kind of went to hell. But being part of Foodlab, a camp that made a hot sunset meal for about 130 people every day for the week, was solidly rewarding as a community-building exercise.
At least, it was rewarding until the end, when only 8 or so of the 37 people in the camp ended up breaking it down, a long and often tedious and unpleasant process rife with snarky comments from exhausted burners feeling a bit bitter at having been left all alone to deal with the final mess. Still, given the kind of camp we were (much trash to truck out, many supplies to account for), we only left about 4 hours later than intended. It could’ve been worse, and I’m glad we stayed and thankful for the work and ultimate mutual support of the breakdown crew.
It’s been a little unsettling to get anonymous and not-so-anonymous snide comments about what went wrong in Foodlab this year. My impression remains that Foodlab had a good year, and this is corroborated by the glowing thanks we’ve received from several people who ate with us but weren’t privy to the inner workings. *shrugs* I just hope that discussion of what to do better next time doesn’t occlude the warmth and laughter we gathered and fed every evening.
When we weren’t busy at Foodlab or hanging out with friends, Ethan and I carved out a few times to be together. The first of those was on Thursday, as we attended our friends Bucky and Emily’s colorful wedding at the clockworks. The afternoon was filled with gorgeous clothes, scorching sun and not one but four ice cream cakes, rock-hard from the flash freezing and being stored in dry ice! Talk about a treat, in the desert.
We puttered about the city a couple of times, returning to the Center Camp Café on Tuesday to revisit the morningtime conversations and coffee that kept us in thrall of each other at the 2003 Burning Man, where we met. On Sunday, we went to the temple burn together, intending to make a late night of it; but a convoluted set of events left us looking for my bike in a nascent dust storm, in which I ended up losing Ethan and never finding the bike. A couple of solid hours of wandering the playa left me exhausted and so covered in pale-brown alkali dust that my campmates didn’t recognize me when I walked into camp looking for my husband who of course wasn’t there. We finally reunited, fell into a deep sleep and broke down the camp the following morning. An anticlimactic ending to our burn, perhaps, but an adventure that now provokes more smiles than rue.
And so, after all the busy-ness and bonding time with Ethan, after the freedom of merely existing in Black Rock City, I kind of felt that I hadn’t emotionally connected with anyone new, not deeply or satisfyingly. There’d been a few meaningful conversations, a couple of great first meetings, one entire night spent talking with some campmates, but in all of that was this insidious distance. By the end of the week my haptic interface was twitching all through my muscles – I hadn’t had prolonged tactile contact with anyone besides Ethan in many days, and in an intensely emotionally open environment at that. This made for an unsettled and thoughtful state, which wasn’t unpleasant but was a bit isolating, [because it|and] took up many thought cycles.
So it was surprising and very cool to find myself having revelatory conversations with N., a longtime friend of Ethan’s from back in Colorado, who has been studying Tibetan Buddhism for several years now and was on his way to New York. I haven’t processed all of what we talked about yet, but the introspectiveness triggered by Burning Man and the desire to once again hermit myself and do a few things well this coming year were kindled by the talks, which took place at all hours (we did the trip straight through, with two stops for sleep and a few more for rest and breakfast and what not).
Ethan and I dropped N. off on Friday morning and headed to Providence, physically tired but agian deep in conversation. Somewhat unexpectedly, we turned to topics that ended up solidifying and concretizing our relationship, even more so than it had been already – a sort of culmination of the two years during which we’ve come to know each other and see a future together.
So the unsettled feeling that I had previously been baffled by, the one that felt like loneliness in the midst of a full life happily building a family, probably wasn’t loneliness after all. It now feels like a restlessness, a desire to move forward and again to deepen my relationship to my love and to my world. Suddenly we’ve seen the path we both want to take in developing our selves together. If the past two years are any indication, the next few will be distilled eye-opening joy.
Tomorrow I go to work. Can’t wait, actually. There’s a lot to do, and I finally feel rested enough to do it well. Welcome home.
Sounds like time very well spent. Always refreshing when a friend posts something so positive to their blog.
I’m still confused on this Burning Man thing a bit, though. Is it the sort of thing you think I’d enjoy, or am I… well, too straight-laced or something? Don’t ask me what I mean by that, as I’m not entirely sure myself.
Oh, Jacq, it’s for you. :) No, you’re not too strait-laced, as long as you can handle the weirdnesses of the people around you. They’re benign: some walk around naked; some display affection in the most public of ways; some breathe fire or walk around on stilts or drive a ship majestically. It’s a harsh environment, but you of all people know how to survive in one.
Burning Man is fun and profound, and I’d love to see you there. Do let me know if you decide to go next year! Meanwhile, there’s a ton of information at burningman.com that will give you a good idea (and no idea at all) of what to expect.
I remembered what you said as we were sipping chai on the walk back from Center Camp, about the haptic-deprivation thing. The same thing hit me a couple of days later, and led to my sole bout of ‘playa mood’ funk – and yeah, I think it does have something to do with being in that “intensely emotionally open environment” of which you speak.
Eventually I remembered how I’d approached everything else about BM this year, whenever I felt I wasn’t getting what I needed: got proactive & figured out how to ask for what I needed in a way that didn’t come across as needy or demanding. And it seemed to work – funny, that! And I did end up making at least one meaningful connection with someone new, and deepening a few others.
Hi Vika –
Erin (fishie) here.
Re: Foodlabs and lack of hands to break down the camp…
I will start by saying that I think your attitude is incredibly relaxed, tolerant and in line with what I am saying below. You are able to see overall success of Foodlabs and minimize the value of the “drama” material.
I’ve been part of the crew designated as the “last ones out” many times. Unless it is expressly communicated that all camp mates are expected to assist with teardown, people won’t stick around. Everyone is cracked out and ready to go home…the last thing on their minds is sticking around to help with village cleanup.
I’ve found, after being in this situation for many years in a row, that harboring animosity towards campers that didn’t contribute was a huge waste of time, thought process, and energy.
That’s just the way people are.
Perhaps the best way for Foodlabs and it’s organizers to evolve the camp is to embrace this and plan accordingly. Assume you’ll only have 8 people for cleanup unless some other expectation is communicated very _clearly_ to all camp mates. Learn to accept that as a main contributor to burning man village/camp organization, that you will have a vast amount of cleanup to do. In turn, all key organizers should be aware of the commitment they are making regardless of the fairness factor in doing the scut work at the end.
Anywho…
I hope that next year, I can contribute something to Foodlabs. I don’t mind being the first one in and the last one out. This year I needed a break, and having the opportunity to do so was a major part of my decision to come in the first place.
What I mean is, thank you . Thank you for being one of those people and posessing the ability to let go of your frustration.
xo!