
This was my virgin burn.
Took me pretty much less than 2 hours to get adjusted. It was like coming home. More so for me it seems than for many others. In alot of ways it was neither less nor more than I imagined. Like I knew every turn... A dream come true. Really wonderful and strange to feel that way...
I went Tuesday - Monday. And fairly quickly realised that much as the lights are stunning, the music is good, and parties are fun, I am, at least this year, a day time Playa person. It seems at it's most beautiful then.
A few things that really stuck to mind...
On my second day there a huge twister hit the Man. According to many veterans it was the biggest in years. It came from roughly 10 o'clock, and made it's way straight to the man. And then, as if designed, it stopped. Circling the Man and base, hiding both completely from sight. After maybe 10-15 seconds, it moved on, still just as strong.
I drove into it. Scratches and scrapes on my skin to mark it's passage. And suddenly the pelting stopped and I stood in complete stillness, surrounded by something that sounded like a hundred trains. Amazing. Later that same day I enjoyed sitting in an open shade structure during the only white-out of my stay. Baptism by wind and dust. :)
2nd, camping in a essentially residential camp (DoLab, they were never there nor did I really know anyone), and realising that not only did I still have a solid capacity for "extreme self reliance" but that flying solo, and largely sober was one of the most memorable and rewarding things I've experienced in my adult life. Even if i was alone, i never felt loneliness on the Playa. The place has breath and a heartbeat.
3rd, having a refreshingly still moment participating in a traditional japanese tea ceremony on the open playa.
4th, dancing on a frigid night at the Temple to some of the best dark breaks I've ever heard, and then a few days later, dancing in bath-warm night air from midnight to 9am without pause to more incredible music. And finally, after years of mechanical habits and frustration, rediscovering my love of dancing.
And last but not least, a speach made at Thunderdome on the last night of fights.
After the opening songs, my friend Hawk walks out and starts telling of a thing he experienced at the crack of dawn that same day.
He saw a lone woman sprinkling a circle of powder in the center of the dome. Half jokingly he asked her what sort of spell she was casting on the arena, to which she answered; "These are the ashes of my 18 year old daughter Amber. She would have loved this place." That merited a minuted of largely pensive or tearful silence. I couldn't spot a dry eye in sight.
I don't think I'll ever forget how any of that felt.
And oddly, I feared the decompression period would be very hard on me, but i pretty much find myself smiling through most of the days...