Burning Man 2006
The Future:
Hope and Fear
The Man Burns!
The Burn
I’ve tried to capture some of the essence of what Burning Man is all about, through some overviews, vignettes, and my own experiences there, and getting to the festival itself.
The theme of the year was to do with hopes and fears for the future, and my soul hit both polarities, resoundingly so, over and over, day and night, for a week.
People have asked me many times what was the craziest thing I saw during my week in Black Rock City. There are many, many runners up to that honor that all deserve their own stories, and hopefully someday soon they will. But I reserve the top prize for recognition of the most extreme experience at the climactic night of the festival; the Burning of the Man.
Who Is The Man?
"The Man is the establishment; the one with power; with money. The one with the ability to hold you back and keep you down. He is the police. The government. The schools. The job. The boss.
The concept of The Man is no longer a black-white thing. We’re not talking about race. We aren’t talking about man vs. woman, either.
We are talking about anyone holding anyone else down. “You have the power and I don’t.” “You’ve got the money, and you make sure I can’t get it.”
Everyone has a Man. By now, you’ve hopefully figured out that Bill Gates is The Man. But did you know that he also has a Man? Sure! We all do."
from stickingittotheman.com
Some other concepts and quotes:
"The Man" does not usually refer to a specific individual as such, but instead to the government, leaders of large corporations, and other authority figures in general, such as the police. The Man is colloquially defined as the figurative person who controls our world. The Man is also often used as a symbol of racial oppression, as well as the boss of a blue-collar worker, and the enemy of any counterculture.
The phrase "the Man is keeping me down" is commonly used to describe perceived oppression, but in modern times it is most often used facetiously in an ironically resigned fashion. The phrase "stick it to the Man" encourages resistance to authority, and essentially means "fight back" or "resist".
* In the movie School of Rock, Jack Black described the Man thusly:
"The Man. Oh, you don't know The Man? The Man's everywhere: in the White House, down the hall, Miss Mullins; she's The Man! And The Man ruined the ozone, and he's burning down the Amazon and he kidnapped Shamu and put her in a chlorine tank! Okay! And there used to be a way to stick it to The Man, it was called rock 'n roll. But guess what? Oh no! The Man ruined that too with a little thing called MTV! So don't waste your time trying to make anything cool or pure or awesome 'cause The Man's just gonna call you a fat washed up loser and crush your soul. So do yourself a favor and just give up!"
...
Here's to not giving up...
There is a Neo-Pagan vibe that runs throughout Burning Man, by which I mean a genuine religious experience that celebrates a living life in that dynamics of ecstatic experienced dancing moment rather than reflecting about historical entities of yore in silent stagnant worship in a boxed church. In the wild vibrancy that is a modern reflection of the rites of Dionysus or Bacchus, the open celestial intoxication of participation in the orgies of radical self-expression is unhindered by The Man’s societal rules that dominate for most of the 51 other weeks of the year. This week, you are free to be a part of the Archaic Revival.
And it’s not just about the parties. There are many moments of somber reflection to be had, as exemplified in the Temple Burn, where there is a communal catharsis as a year’s pains, sorrows, and losses are burnt away to ashes and dust in quiet meditation.
The Temple
In these divine moments of truth, there are many soul searching times, like the phase of any good entheogenic trip, where you ask yourself, “How can I integrate the beauty, the art, the wonder, the knowledge, the community, the love; how can I bring these back to my ‘normal’ life, so my other living days may shine with this holy glow?”
Well, what prevents this? What prevents people from returning to their corner of the world and co-create the expansion of free love, art, celebration, anarchistic revelry, and the quest to journey ever closer to the divinity?
Fear of The Man, I believe.
How unfortunate it seems, that people, after being part of the holy gnosis that another world is possible; it was a reality for a week; fall back into old habits of acquiescing to a plaguing meme: a damned idea put for by the Dominator Culture lead by the Enemy, The Man, that states something like: “You were lucky to have this experience for a week, count yourself fortunate. Now, back to work Slave!”
I had spent the last year of travel challenging this notion and fighting The Man. Not content with just breaking even, I seek to defeat the Vicious Dominator Culture of The Man, by defeating his most destructive axiom:
“If you don’t work, you don’t eat!”
and mutating this blighted idea into tyrannical forced servitude; bondage of the human spirit into a fake reality that dictates a 40 hour work week with little or no vacation. I challenge this with the faith that the essence of humanity is good, and responsible enough to democratically determine our own destiny on this planet by creating new partnership societies that value the dynamic, creative, evolving human spirit and knowing that the people are not beyond redemption!
Amidst the colorful flashing lights, blaring techno music, flamboyant costumes, flame-throwers, nudity, et all, it becomes easy to not remember what this is all about: A rejection of The Man and his deadening values. But, perhaps in forgetting, the moment is captured of a life without the looming presence of The Man, and that, is what it is all about.
Nevertheless, the effigy ritual was the peak moment for me, the culmination of a year of adventure in battling The Man, distilled into a week of intergalactic revelry, now climaxing into a blazing inferno of Hope and Fear for the Future: a trial by fire that I was to take.
The sun fell behind the mountains, illuminating The Man with the last rays of natural light it’d ever see. I took the last of my entheogenic magic I had in the form of some very special fungus, knelt on the playa, and prayed my intentions. Tens of thousands of people had gathered in a circle around The Man to get a good seat for the Main Event. The notion struck me, as I got up from my fairly decent view; why just be a static spectator of the spectacle when I can bring forth my own radical participation! With my sword (which I carried with me everywhere since receiving it) resting in the hollow of my shoulder, I strode around The Man, circling him many times while once more taking in the crowds of colorful people as I swaggered past:
And then:
After the initial explosions and fireworks, the conflagration consumed The Man; a living Burning triumph of prevailing freedom. The Rangers guarding the structure let the crowd loose to dance and celebrate in this great victory in circadian elation counterclockwise around the Burning Monument.
As the Man burned, I got higher and higher as the waves of psychedelic empowerment hit me with tsunami-like intensity as the ceremony was the climatic fulfillment of a solar year on the road as a Vagabond Ronin, getting into adventures and battling the Man. I captured the rapture, and then saw the sight as a rite to meditate on a Hopeful Future state.
How to bring this victory back? How to share this in the coming year?
I drew my sword, a symbol of Warriors throughout time, as I used this moment to accept into my new evolving, metamorphosing persona the noble virtues of the Warrior.
While the thousands of others crazily and joyfully danced and trouped past, I walked towards to raging inferno, to the point wear the heat was searing my skin, knelt, and remained motionless in that kneeling position with my katana held out in front me, between me and the Burning Man, ready to combat and defend my being from any harm the Man had to throw at me.
Oh, hell ya!
(Finally found this pic after a year of searching thousands of photos, thank you Merlin!)
In my heightened, razor-sharp state of awareness, my mind focused my vision on the blade in front of me, and beyond that, the Man, diminishing into the fire. People were running past me, because being that close to such heat meant they had to keep moving, but in my state, I was beyond that kind of pain.
I heard many random comments about me as the other Burners rushed by. “Oh, that is so cool!” “Right on dude!” “That is the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen!”
Also: "He’s going to commit hari-kari!” Ha. Nope, seppuku is not in the agenda for me.
Among the best: “A modern day warrior.”
Some older sounding guy (over 50 I’d guess) whom I never saw, on each rotation played the part of pseudo guru, intoning weak Zen like aphorisms to me. Hey, whatever.
Strangely, in a rather surreal moment, a girl knelt down and said to me, “You aren’t a Samurai!” and tried to wrest the sword from my grip. Heh, not happening tonight missy. Besides, I never claimed I was. But I wasn’t in a talking mood, no words were spoken, this was communicated to her in a derisive snort and a yank back that sent her sprawling, and out of sight and mind.
Time past and the fire began to lessen its fury. The crowds became more bold and circled closer to the remains. I was being swarmed. Oddly, in an “Only at Burning Man” moment, a team of monks surrounded me on both sides and behind, and while in lotus position, they chanted mantras and guided people around me so they didn’t accidentally impale themselves on my katana.
Thanks.
The guru wannabe came again, and gave some prose that didn’t exactly sit well with me. I didn’t invite him to me moment in the first place, and now he was intoning something about how I should bow to him for imparting wisdom. Yeah, enough of you. I fiercely shrugged back my shoulders and clenched my sword up again (I had been holding the position for the better part of an hour, and was starting to wane), in a gesture that said “You are not welcome in my space! Leave!” And I never heard from the guru again.
A Ranger came to the side of me, and told me in genuine tones that I had greatly impressed him. “You’re not going to carve up some people back on the playa are you?” he asked jokingly. I made the slight motion of my head to indicate a humorous no. “You were noticed by thousands of people tonight. You did a very memorable thing. I’m going to give you this,” and he gave me a small sigul, that invited me to join the Black Rock City Rangers next year.
The structure had all been consumed except for a few posts, and the huge mound of coals. I stood, with my katana still in front of me, and looked into the fire for any more visions.
Then, I saw it:
While in my standing pose, I saw a figure on the other side of the burned down structure, the remnants of The Man. If I was standing at 6:00 the approaching body was coming straight at me from 12:00. Somehow making it past the ring of Rangers encircled to prevent this very thing, a young Burner ran directly into the fire!
He dashed right through the middle of the smoldering embers and pieces of structure that remained. Approaching the center, our eyes met, he was coming right towards me in a dramatic fashion. Was anyone else seeing this?! I knew he had about three seconds until the heat and fire did serious damage. He had already used up about two. Luckily, he was wearing a full-length coat and hat.
When he reached the dead middle where The Man was in fiery memory, he fell over! I ran forward breaking my vigilant pose and silence by yelling, “Someone help him!” while knowing I was the closest one to save him. I was ready to leap in the flames to rescue him.
Summoning whatever fortitude he had left, he put his bare hands on the coals to push himself up and used that momentum to stumble out of the fire and land in a smoldering smoking heap at my feet.
He looked at me, and gave me wounded look, with the faintest trace of a grin in it. I could see the youthfulness in his face; I’d put him at around 19. I looked back at him, partly with respect and honor for such courage, part in woe, for I saw his burnt hands and they were a mess. I gave him a look that said, “Brave. Foolish, but very brave!” This happened in a split second. Others had seen it and I heard cries of “Medic!” all around. Someone took what water they had, and splashed some on his face, but wastefully on his coat. “On my hands,” he pleaded, while on his back. Gawkers came forward, crowding him, so I used the flat of my blade to keep them back. “Give him air!” I shouted, and they did. I had two bottles of water on me; my water supply for the week was critically low, and I had to make ever drop count for my health and wellbeing. No water was better spent than those two bottles that I unselfishly gave up to be poured on each hand, steam rising from the wounds.
Medics came and treated him, and took the scene over. My work there was done. An ambulance was on the way. I gave him a look, our eyes connected again; I had the distinct feeling that he was purposefully running toward me. I bowed to him, sheathed my sword, and went off into the night.
I felt a distinct change in my being as the Warrior consciousness was infusing into my soul. It was a kind of higher self-respect and esteem, knowing that I would have done the heroic thing and dove into the inferno to save he who was crossing the fire to me, had he not gotten out on his own accord. I had taken the living experienced lesson of the Warrior, and in my confrontation with The Man, I had faced and defeated my greatest fear.
I knew I could sacrifice myself to save another of worth.
LOVE
