So it seems that another year has passed and the time has come to repack our colorful garb for a fresh season of dust-caked greatness. I can’t believe the lengthy roster of my nearest and dearest that are frolicking out onto open playa with me this year.
Finally, the dreams, and nightmares, have begun. The fantastic imagery you are left with after Burning Man leaves a special mark on your subconscious. A burner often dreams of flying over the desert grasping golden balloons, being chased by bjork, maybe walking through a room of day-glo oriental rugs while drinking sake, or worst of all arriving without any of your nifty stuff. At this time of year I often wake up in cold sweats thankful: I didn’t get there without my bike, or my water, or my whistle, or my two rainbow tutus, because we haven’t even left yet. Whew! The last thing you want to do is show up unprepared. That’s why I’ve spent the last few days sewing fur onto my moccasins, mod-podging random pictures onto forty bic lighters, threading little LEDs into fake flowers and ordering 50 pairs of rainbow firework glasses. The water, tent stakes and lotion we can pick up on the way.
I’m so excited for temple at dawn, hula hooping on a trampoline to wait out a dust storm, chasing blinking lights miles into the horizon because we haven’t gone that way yet, and most of all to celebrate the new year with 60,000 + of my closest friends.
Shake the dust. Burn the past. Light the future.
The Great Rucksack Revolution 