Saturday was really our last day at Burning Man, since we were going to try to leave really early on Sunday morning, so there was lots to choose from to do. I chose to go off on a bike ride on my own in the relatively cool morning hours, leaving Isis to go do her own thing for a while. I biked around the playa for a while and saw some more art, but found myself really drawn back to the Temple, so I biked over there. (Side note: It was at this point I decided to name my bike “Shifty”, since it had the temperamental habit of randomly shifting into a new gear without provocation. But since everything there was so flat, I didn’t really mind, and in fact found it kind of entertaining.) I found a bench on one of the walkways connecting the main temple to one of the smaller outbuildings and sat there for a while, hanging out and being quiet with myself, trying to process some of the things that had come up over the last few days. I wrote in my journal, and eventually on the Temple itself. This time I wrote on the Temple “WE ARE ALL CONNECTED” along with a little drawing, and “NO ONE CAN MAKE ME FEEL INFERIOR WITHOUT MY CONSENT...AND I DO NOT CONSENT”. I wanted those concepts to burn up and send opposite messages to the universe—one was a wish for something that would come into being (the communal realization that we are all connected) and one was a wish for release (from the hold that others’ expectations have had over me). I also tucked one of my little freak flag cards into a crack in the wall, so that it would come into being in a big and hot and flame-tastic kind of way.

After that I came back to camp and shifted into work mode—we broke down and packed up as much of our camp as we could, and organized things for a quick getaway in the morning (put things in the car, moved our car, made sure the way was clear, etc.) That took most of the afternoon, though of course we took chillout breaks. Then we had dinner and got dressed in our final costumes (Isis was dressed as Isis with beautiful gold wings, and I was the Silver Supernova with my fabulous silver cape and silver sequin-and-fringe skirt). Then we headed out to go see the Man burn—the one big event that the whole city was built around, and that (most) everyone was excited about.

As we headed to the Man, I looked around and saw a really cool effect—practically the whole city was heading towards the Man, and since everyone was lit up in some way (both pedestrians and bikes, in addition to the art cars of course) there was this interesting kind of arterial pulsing effect, where from all sides rushes of light and movement were moving together, converging on the same point. There was a palpable feeling of excitement and anticipation but generally everyone seemed pretty peaceful and calm about the whole thing. Isis and I found a spot to spread out a blanket and sit down to watch, and though we chatted a bit with our neighbors, we mostly spent the pre-burn time appreciating each other (I feel like we have a super close and supportive bond now that we never would have had if it weren’t for Burning Man) and appreciating the transformational week we’d had so far, and talking about what we wanted to release and burn away (fear, anxiety, safety, smallness, expectations, and other stuff I don’t remember) along with the Man.

 A ring of empty space surrounded the Man, with a perimeter guarded by lots of volunteers (presumably to make sure none of the crazy or drugged-up participants decided to do something crazy like charge the fire). In that ring, before the big burn, there were a bunch of fire art performances, which were beautiful and amazing to watch. The most amazing and impressive part was watching several people in full head-to-toe fire suits dancing around—I did not see how they could breathe in there. At some point there was a big cheer, which we only belatedly realized was because someone had activated the pulleys to make the Man raise his arms (we only figured it out because at some point after that we looked up and said “hey! The Man has his arms over his head! It wasn’t always like that...”). I loved that even the Man had his own transition, his own rite of passage from one state into another.

Eventually the burn began and it was truly spectacular and moving. It’s hard to describe it, because it wasn’t just the burn itself, it was also the surges of energy and emotion going through the crowd and within my own self as the burn went on. There were gorgeous, spectacular fireworks, big bunches of them, that went on for what felt like a really long time—longer than any firework show I’d ever seen (and easily rivaling Disneyland’s, which in my admittedly somewhat limited experience had set the previous record for the Best Fireworks Ever). And yes, there was an incredibly huge and impressive conflagration. I thought I’d seen a lot of fire when the Trojan Horse burned, but this, this was even yet more above and beyond—NOW I can safely say I have never seen so much fire in one place (and never hope to see as much anywhere else, as it would probably mean I was about to lose my life in the middle of a disaster zone). It was, and I don’t use this word lightly, epic. Epic and symbolic and mysterious and beautiful and powerful. It was awe-inspiring, in the sense that other kinds of big impressive natural vistas or forces of nature are. I felt very small and unimportant, but in a good way. But I also felt connected with everyone around me in some way, and that was comforting and uplifting.

We watched the Man burn and eventually fall down (with huge cheers every time a piece fell off or crumbled), and finally the people guarding the perimeter fell back and allowed the crowd to surge in and get close the fire. Isis was particularly drawn to the fire, so we spent a goodly time right at its hot-coals perimeter (though I hung back somewhat and talked to other people nearby.) Isis kept asking me what I wanted—get close to the fire? Go back to camp? Go elsewhere? And I was able to honestly reply that actually, I found everything was delightful. I realized then that this apparently was one of my super-powers (the ability to be interested and delighted by anything I chose to focus on, no matter what or where.)

After glutting ourselves on fire, we wandered back to our camp, where there was a big dance party going on once again. We danced and talked and danced some more. We watched our camp neighbor Christopher spin his fire swords (beautiful!) I granted a wish using my blinky star wand for a man we’d been dancing with, and he gave me a button that said “exhale fear/inhale love”. We danced some more. We stayed up all night and eventually, exhausted but delighted, Isis and Christopher and I wrangled our way up to the DJ booth to watch the sun rise over the mountains and light up Black Rock City. It was beautiful, and we were feeling pretty light and serene and had that kind of dizzy, expansive giddiness you get when you’ve been up all night and the light comes again. I was sated, and satisfied, but also sad, watching that sunrise—because I felt the transition upon me, and I knew my burn was coming to a close (and I’d loved it so!) I would miss this wide open, starkly beautiful place, even with all its dust and heat. I would miss the unique, beautiful people we’d met and gotten to know (including those I’ve mentioned in addition to our truly wonderful camp neighbors Jerry and Christopher, Eric, Dina, Amy and even Left Nut and Right Nut). I would miss living at a different pace, in a world full of appreciation and art, exploration and discovery, creativity and joy, fire and fun. I was determined to hold on to what I could, but I knew that the vividness of experience would fade into memory, was already fading, and that made me wistful. I was already grieving, but grief is a rite of passage too, and nothing to be afraid of.

[To Be Continued and Concluded in Part 7...]

[To see more or full sized pictures, click here for the whole set on Flickr]