An open letter to myself, one year after Burning Man

There’s a Burning Man project asking veteran Burners to write letters to the virgin burner they were, to be delivered to others on the playa during the event. I did not write this for that project, but found myself inspired by the concept a couple weeks ago. I realized yesterday the piece feels apropos of some of today’s New Moon themes. — Amanda

Dear Me last year, a Burning Man Virgin:

Everything you are about to experience will be so amazing, touching, difficult, exciting, frustrating and sometimes (believe it or not) slightly anticlimactic, you’ll think that you could never possibly forget it. But guess what?

You never know what -- or who -- you'll meet out on the playa at night. Photo by Amanda Painter, Burning Man 2012.
You never know what you’ll meet out on the playa at night with the Moon nearly full. Photo by Amanda Painter, Burning Man 2012.

I was just reading bits of a “Burning Man Lexicon” that someone put together. And when I read about the greeters at the entrance gate inviting first-time Burners — virgins — to ring a bell and lie down on the ground to make a “dust angel,” I suddenly remembered something.

You nearly cried when the Greeter welcomed you home, and you told her you’ve been wanting to come for nearly 9 years and almost didn’t come and yet here you are.

Do you remember that, now? That surprise welling-up of emotion that caught you off guard, that seemed so out of place and silly (you were, after all, arriving someplace to which you had no actual ties yet)? Remember how you stuffed it down out of… what was it? Shyness? Shame? Mere awkwardness? A fear of being so vulnerable so fast, or out of control, or simply inscrutable to yourself?

Yeah — you let it out later that night, at your theme camp’s community meeting/orientation. Well, you let it out as part of some sort of exercise. But that original moment… that had something very deep, and personal, and beyond words driving it. You didn’t think you could do it by yourself. Remember? You thought you needed that mentor/former lover there with you to hold your hand, pay for half of it, keep you feeling “safe” and like you belonged so that you could explore without being alone.

Well, guess what? Feeling that aloneness was — and is — crucial. You got a taste of that, too — though I know you won’t forget that any time soon.

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