Man On Fire

In the past week I saw two giant cupcakes having a race, battled in the Thunderdome, followed a makeshift marching band to a party in a cloud, watched a ballet of fire, heard Alan Watts speak, dance-dance-danced all night in a desert oasis that resembled an outdoor version of Jabba’s Palace and saw a 150 ft. neon blue man burned to the ground.

And most of this happened before anybody gave me mushrooms.

Where could such joyous and exciting activities take place, you ask? Black Rock City, my friends, Burning Man, a real-life Xanadu and one of the friendliest places on Earth. It appears for one week every year ten miles outside of Gerlach Nevada and then vanishes without a trace. Gerlach’s population is something like 200. BRC’s population this year came in at about 36,000. A good majority of whom I saw naked. And whether you believe it or not most of them looked pretty damn good that way.

But that’s not what Burning Man is about, it's just a pleasant side-effect. Burning Man is an experiment in community based on creativity and gift-giving. There is original art and entertainment everywhere you look and nothing for sale but ice and coffee both of which goes to charity.

It is commonly misconceived as a place based on the barter system. While the place looks an awful lot like Barter-Town, trading is actually not encouraged. It’s all about giving without expecting anything in return. Or rather the Buddhist belief that the rewards of a good deed have no choice but to come back to you.

I’m not a new-age, hippie freak if I’ve started to sound like one. Yoga hurts, I can’t imagine life without burgers and fries, and there’s not enough violence on TV, but I do think that there are better ways to live out there and Burning Man is a worthy attempt at finding it. So go.

I’d write more but I’m lakeside in Tahoe cooling off and enjoying free room and board compliments of the Hyatt. San Fran’s next. Wish you were here.