Post Burning Man (Not Decompression)
I'm still struggling to write about Burning Man. It's probably the most difficult event I've ever tried to put into words. I have such an unusual job: turning real life into unearthly prose, or recreating the frailty and foibles of the human condition in a screenplay. And I'm schtumped by eight days in the desert which were incredible: both grounded in the suffering of what it is to be human, and somehow transcendent of it.
When I write screenplays, producers are always combing through the script, asking whether every action or word attributed to a character is truthful. It annoys me because we never lose the ability for change in life. A person never loses the potential to surprize themselves. I learned to detach and to walk away in Burning Man. I learned to acknowledge a fiery, burning emotion, without feeding it and creating drama. I learned that sometimes, for whatever reason, people put expectations upon you that are driven primarily by their own selfish needs (we're all selfish, it's just a part of being human) - and that you don't have to live up to these expectations if it's not true for you, if it's going to make you unhappy. You don't need to make a big deal about it. You simply set down your boundaries and move on, ignoring their reaction because you're confident you've dealt with the situation wisely and kindly.
The first expectation a friend put upon me was inviting herself along to Burning Man. I had not invited this friend, nor intimated I would like her to come - in fact, I had talked extensively of how happy I was to experience Burning Man alone, and to plunge into meeting strangers. And then she informed me that she was coming with me. This is a friend who has always been loving, generous and kind, and whom I owe a lot to. I was quite happy for her to go to Burning Man, but I didn't want her to come to Burning Man with me. Had I wanted her to come with me to Burning Man, I would have asked her, so I found her behavior odd, threatening and a little claustrophobic. I wanted to go to Burning Man without anyone "knowing" me, or transposing their image of me from the real world into this completely separate reality. Instead of telling my friend "Please come, but not with me" or maybe setting boundaries for ourselves, I felt anxious and trapped, held hostage by her self-invite. I felt like I owed it to her to swallow my annoyance. I was unable to articulate what I really felt.
In the end, the situation was resolved when my camp said they didn't have any room for one extra person. I don't think my friend quite understands that in the end, the camp made the call (because I was too cowardly to!) and she was welcome to have found her own way there without relying on me or my contacts. However, I still think she feels resentful towards me for "blocking" her Burning Man trip - or for being tacitly unwilling to let her come along on mine, as if I unconsciously manifested a too-full camp (I wonder if I did?!).
This was one of those situations where I knew in my heart that I needed those eight days in the desert to be eight days with Burners, not people from my separate work-reality, not people who brought dramas and issues onto the Playa that I wanted to leave behind for eight short days. I will return to Black Rock City next year, and again, there are very few people I would want in my camp for the same overtly selfish reason. I'm quite happy for my friends and acquaintances to go to Burning Man, but I don't want them to go with me, to camp with me, or to be in any way reliant on me.
This is because like most of us, in the real world, I spend a lot of time doing what other people want, being considerate of others feelings, tailoring my own behavior to suit the demands of others. I'm a nanny of broken people - losers are my specialty ; ) these are great qualities. But I did not want to put others first at Burning Man, to wake up and worry about whether X had fun last night, or feel anxious because Y wanted to spend time alone with me, or feel concerned that Z didn't get on with Y and so I should schedule in them before X.... Fuck that. I wanted to roam alone. I intuitively knew that my Burning Man experience must start off a solitary one, even if that sounded selfish and incomprehensible to those closest to me in my separate default-world reality. And it's not that Burning Man is selfish. Precisely the opposite. Burning Man is the most selfless experience I've had for a long time. It's about community and giving - but if you can't throw yourself into that community, and if you can't gift because someone is holding you back, it impedes your experience, impacts negatively upon your stay on the playa. I needed to not give to one or two people who were leaning on me, using me as a crutch because they didn't feel confident walking alone, so that I could give to many instead. Crutches are great, btw. But if both legs are working, you need to have the courage to leave your crutch at home.
The second person with unreasonable expectations was a man I knew from LA. I had been extremely close to this man for a few weeks - he was another casualty, a bird with a broken wing I picked up and nursed - but I was becoming increasingly alienated from him due to his self-destructive tendencies, and his curious blindness to the needs and wants of those around him. This man suffered from "center of the universe" syndrome. He was a queen of misery, the protagonist in a perpetual, pathetic tragedy. His ego, his pain, his suffering, his victimhood, dominated everything and everyone around him, and prevented him from seeing the hurtful affects of his behavior and words on others. He had a vicious, self-loathing streak I probably tolerated back in LA more than I should.
I wanted him to come to Burning Man initially because he epitomized someone who needed it: he was a man who had literally lost all hope, whose self-hatred was actually palpable. You stand close to this guy, and you feel the hate coming off him in waves. It sucker-punches you, and you instinctively want to take the pain away - and then you realize that just makes it worse. His hate actually feeds off attention, off others' desire to help and to soothe. Acknowledging and pandering to his pain actually enabled him to manifest it even more, and generate more negative attention, in a self-destructive, self-perpetuating cycle.
I thought Burning Man would teach him self-reliance and radical acceptance and community - the most important elements he seemed to lack in his private, selfish, self-constructed hellworld where the population was One. Naively, I thought this man would respect my need and desire to "roam alone", and be generous and undemanding of me, because I had spent so much time in LA treading carefully around his broken feelings. When it became obvious that this wasn't the case, and that Man had expectations I did not and could not fulfill, that Man had either not listened to what I said, or was blithely ignoring it and instead shrieking "bitch!" because I refused to change my plans for him, I had to walk away - from the situation, and eventually, from our friendship and acquaintance.
My experience with him was extremely unpleasant, but it taught me a lot about not reacting. As a fiery, passionate Aries, non-reaction is something I will struggle with for the rest of my life, with varying degrees of success.
And so I am back in London, still reeling from Black Rock City. Your heart and your mind and your soul is cracked wide open in Burning Man, and one of the challenges of reintegrating into regular society is trying to maintain this openness, while adopting the necessary shield you need to move and function in the default world, because the default world doesn't understand or appreciate - perhaps a better thing to say is that it regards with suspicion - what fuels us on the Playa. It takes a lot of time and care to sink back in - and then I was thrust into London 36 hours after getting home.
I feel like I spent the last ten days plastering a big, fake smile on my face, my soul shrieking in pain as I sat through meetings, avoided drunk people dressed in Primark animal costumes at Bestival, striving to maintain some semblance of functionality when all I wanted to do was lock myself away in a cabin, alone with my dog and nature, and slowly slide back into life gently.
Thanks to Jimmy and Sophie for looking after me in Dalston, introducing me to the best kebabs in England and making me laugh and find color in a shockingly gray world, and thanks to Tristan and Thomas for early morning philosophy rants and long talks about love and emotion and polyamory, and what jealousy and possession means. These are huge issues for me post-BM, as I've never dated a man who hasn't 'cheated' or 'strayed' or 'lied to me', and I strive now to comprehend whether this is evidence of my unreasonable expectations, whether I need to think about connecting to people in a different way, whether I want a traditional monogamous relationship, or whether questioning monogamy is actually the result of disappointment and disillusionment and a loss of faith. So many questions. Lots of time. Deliberately choosing solitude and reflection right now feels healthy and appropriate. I'm not in the space for sharing, and that's perfectly OK.
This weekend I'm on deadline for a pilot episode outline. I can't wait to fly back home to California and get out of London. I'm obviously here for a reason, but I'm craving my dog, my yoga, my best mate, and my Angeleno Burners.
I love you Burners. Thank you for opening my eyes on the Playa, Camp Jackpot.
When I write screenplays, producers are always combing through the script, asking whether every action or word attributed to a character is truthful. It annoys me because we never lose the ability for change in life. A person never loses the potential to surprize themselves. I learned to detach and to walk away in Burning Man. I learned to acknowledge a fiery, burning emotion, without feeding it and creating drama. I learned that sometimes, for whatever reason, people put expectations upon you that are driven primarily by their own selfish needs (we're all selfish, it's just a part of being human) - and that you don't have to live up to these expectations if it's not true for you, if it's going to make you unhappy. You don't need to make a big deal about it. You simply set down your boundaries and move on, ignoring their reaction because you're confident you've dealt with the situation wisely and kindly.
The first expectation a friend put upon me was inviting herself along to Burning Man. I had not invited this friend, nor intimated I would like her to come - in fact, I had talked extensively of how happy I was to experience Burning Man alone, and to plunge into meeting strangers. And then she informed me that she was coming with me. This is a friend who has always been loving, generous and kind, and whom I owe a lot to. I was quite happy for her to go to Burning Man, but I didn't want her to come to Burning Man with me. Had I wanted her to come with me to Burning Man, I would have asked her, so I found her behavior odd, threatening and a little claustrophobic. I wanted to go to Burning Man without anyone "knowing" me, or transposing their image of me from the real world into this completely separate reality. Instead of telling my friend "Please come, but not with me" or maybe setting boundaries for ourselves, I felt anxious and trapped, held hostage by her self-invite. I felt like I owed it to her to swallow my annoyance. I was unable to articulate what I really felt.
In the end, the situation was resolved when my camp said they didn't have any room for one extra person. I don't think my friend quite understands that in the end, the camp made the call (because I was too cowardly to!) and she was welcome to have found her own way there without relying on me or my contacts. However, I still think she feels resentful towards me for "blocking" her Burning Man trip - or for being tacitly unwilling to let her come along on mine, as if I unconsciously manifested a too-full camp (I wonder if I did?!).
This was one of those situations where I knew in my heart that I needed those eight days in the desert to be eight days with Burners, not people from my separate work-reality, not people who brought dramas and issues onto the Playa that I wanted to leave behind for eight short days. I will return to Black Rock City next year, and again, there are very few people I would want in my camp for the same overtly selfish reason. I'm quite happy for my friends and acquaintances to go to Burning Man, but I don't want them to go with me, to camp with me, or to be in any way reliant on me.
This is because like most of us, in the real world, I spend a lot of time doing what other people want, being considerate of others feelings, tailoring my own behavior to suit the demands of others. I'm a nanny of broken people - losers are my specialty ; ) these are great qualities. But I did not want to put others first at Burning Man, to wake up and worry about whether X had fun last night, or feel anxious because Y wanted to spend time alone with me, or feel concerned that Z didn't get on with Y and so I should schedule in them before X.... Fuck that. I wanted to roam alone. I intuitively knew that my Burning Man experience must start off a solitary one, even if that sounded selfish and incomprehensible to those closest to me in my separate default-world reality. And it's not that Burning Man is selfish. Precisely the opposite. Burning Man is the most selfless experience I've had for a long time. It's about community and giving - but if you can't throw yourself into that community, and if you can't gift because someone is holding you back, it impedes your experience, impacts negatively upon your stay on the playa. I needed to not give to one or two people who were leaning on me, using me as a crutch because they didn't feel confident walking alone, so that I could give to many instead. Crutches are great, btw. But if both legs are working, you need to have the courage to leave your crutch at home.
The second person with unreasonable expectations was a man I knew from LA. I had been extremely close to this man for a few weeks - he was another casualty, a bird with a broken wing I picked up and nursed - but I was becoming increasingly alienated from him due to his self-destructive tendencies, and his curious blindness to the needs and wants of those around him. This man suffered from "center of the universe" syndrome. He was a queen of misery, the protagonist in a perpetual, pathetic tragedy. His ego, his pain, his suffering, his victimhood, dominated everything and everyone around him, and prevented him from seeing the hurtful affects of his behavior and words on others. He had a vicious, self-loathing streak I probably tolerated back in LA more than I should.
I wanted him to come to Burning Man initially because he epitomized someone who needed it: he was a man who had literally lost all hope, whose self-hatred was actually palpable. You stand close to this guy, and you feel the hate coming off him in waves. It sucker-punches you, and you instinctively want to take the pain away - and then you realize that just makes it worse. His hate actually feeds off attention, off others' desire to help and to soothe. Acknowledging and pandering to his pain actually enabled him to manifest it even more, and generate more negative attention, in a self-destructive, self-perpetuating cycle.
I thought Burning Man would teach him self-reliance and radical acceptance and community - the most important elements he seemed to lack in his private, selfish, self-constructed hellworld where the population was One. Naively, I thought this man would respect my need and desire to "roam alone", and be generous and undemanding of me, because I had spent so much time in LA treading carefully around his broken feelings. When it became obvious that this wasn't the case, and that Man had expectations I did not and could not fulfill, that Man had either not listened to what I said, or was blithely ignoring it and instead shrieking "bitch!" because I refused to change my plans for him, I had to walk away - from the situation, and eventually, from our friendship and acquaintance.
My experience with him was extremely unpleasant, but it taught me a lot about not reacting. As a fiery, passionate Aries, non-reaction is something I will struggle with for the rest of my life, with varying degrees of success.
And so I am back in London, still reeling from Black Rock City. Your heart and your mind and your soul is cracked wide open in Burning Man, and one of the challenges of reintegrating into regular society is trying to maintain this openness, while adopting the necessary shield you need to move and function in the default world, because the default world doesn't understand or appreciate - perhaps a better thing to say is that it regards with suspicion - what fuels us on the Playa. It takes a lot of time and care to sink back in - and then I was thrust into London 36 hours after getting home.
I feel like I spent the last ten days plastering a big, fake smile on my face, my soul shrieking in pain as I sat through meetings, avoided drunk people dressed in Primark animal costumes at Bestival, striving to maintain some semblance of functionality when all I wanted to do was lock myself away in a cabin, alone with my dog and nature, and slowly slide back into life gently.
Thanks to Jimmy and Sophie for looking after me in Dalston, introducing me to the best kebabs in England and making me laugh and find color in a shockingly gray world, and thanks to Tristan and Thomas for early morning philosophy rants and long talks about love and emotion and polyamory, and what jealousy and possession means. These are huge issues for me post-BM, as I've never dated a man who hasn't 'cheated' or 'strayed' or 'lied to me', and I strive now to comprehend whether this is evidence of my unreasonable expectations, whether I need to think about connecting to people in a different way, whether I want a traditional monogamous relationship, or whether questioning monogamy is actually the result of disappointment and disillusionment and a loss of faith. So many questions. Lots of time. Deliberately choosing solitude and reflection right now feels healthy and appropriate. I'm not in the space for sharing, and that's perfectly OK.
This weekend I'm on deadline for a pilot episode outline. I can't wait to fly back home to California and get out of London. I'm obviously here for a reason, but I'm craving my dog, my yoga, my best mate, and my Angeleno Burners.
I love you Burners. Thank you for opening my eyes on the Playa, Camp Jackpot.
MIMI IN NY | 7:31 AM |
