I Survived Burning Man 2023

Up until last month, Burning Man was not a relevant subject in my world. All I knew about it was that it was a really expensive (which I assumed meant pretentious) annual West Coast festival that my boyfriend would frequent in his party days. This August 2023, however, my newly sober partner, Christopher expressed interest in giving it a fresh, sober go. He’d recently begun reconnecting with his old “burner” (regular burning man attendee) friends.

Throughout his consideration, Christopher went back and forth many times.

“Babe? I don’t think I should go to Burning Man, after all. I’m not sure if I’m strong enough in my sobriety to be surrounded by that kind of temptation.”

I’ll get into the nitty gritty of Burning Man later, but for those who don’t know, there’s basically someone at every corner trying to seduce you into their campsite for free drinks.

Christopher’s hesitancy quickly turned into elation as he declared, “Kourtney,” in his charming northern English accent, “I truly believe that Burning Man will be an inspiring and healing experience for me this year. I met a DJ out dancing last night who was inspired by my sobriety. I also learned there are AA camps at Burning Man. I think I can be a beacon for others who are questioning their lifestyle, and have my own support system there if I should need it.”

I was supportive and encouraging of Christopher’s process, as well as whatever choice he was inclined to, until the festival date loomed closer and it became clear that his mind was still wavering just as much. I wondered: If this was his relationship with his temperance weeks before the event, how would he cope in the real life, week-long testing ground?

When he finally settled on going, I simultaneously settled on the stance that it wasn’t a good idea. Not to mention: I WAS GONNA FREAKIN MISS HIM. I began expressing my new position without restraint.

One night we lay in bed talking about it. I playfully suggested that I should go with him, you know, to help him stay strong in his convictions around sobriety.

“Would you really like to go?“ He asked, “Hypothetically speaking, resell tickets are down to 1/4 of the price. You could get your overlapping work trip covered and tag along!”

In hindsight, I now know that last-minute tickets usually go up in price, not down. Burning Man was now less than 1 week away and knowing that might have occurred to me as a foreshadowing sign of what was to come.

“I’m not sure, lover,” I responded in genuine consideration, “I’m not sure if we should spend money on something like this for me. I have work, my business and a new school semester starts mid-September.”

Though my words were hesitant, my energy was thoroughly intrigued.

“Can I sleep on it and let you know?”

Needless to say, the answer was yes. I’m not one to turn down an unconventional adventure over a mundane work week and that’s just something I’ve grown to accept about myself.

We packed up the RV with food from Trader Joe’s and Costco and hit the road through the breathtaking terrain of Oregon, Northern California, and then to the Black Rock Desert near Gerlach, Nevada where Burning Man is held. The Black Rock Desert is essentially a huge valley with dirt that resembles alkaline dust rather than any kind of dirt. We waited about an hour and a half in the line of camp-ready vehicles. At the entrance, we were greeted by a group of lively folks dressed in racy cyber-punk costumes. They checked our tickets, parking pass, and vehicle - probably as a formality and partially to make sure we weren’t smuggling in any un-ticketed human beings. Once everything was validated they invited us to step out of the car to make “dust angels” and ring their greeting gong.

We jumped joyfully and dustily back into the RV and entered what truly felt like another planet. We drove along makeshift roads marked with signposts, past creatively dressed - sometimes not dressed much at all - folks on LED-adorned bikes, to our campsite called “Get Toasted”. Mountains stood proud in every direction as far as the eye could see and the moon buzzed with an orange hew, nearly full, and looked close enough that we could walk up and embrace it in our arms. This added to the extraterrestrial feel of the unspoken popular dress code and the distinctive, space-like, dusty dirt.

As we passed an array of camps, some expensive, some makeshift, some works of art, some ridiculous jokes, all curated with their unique themes, promoting their offerings, I started to get the hint of what Burning Man was all about. It’s like a big adult playground where everyone gets to express and share themselves through their clothes, camps, creations, and offerings. Another thing to note: once you get inside, everything is COMPLETELY FREE. The buying, selling, or even trading of goods and services is strictly prohibited. Everyone is REQUIRED and, in my experience, INSPIRED to give and receive freely from our hearts. One can camp independently, or join a group with a shared cause, vision, music taste, art taste, sense of humor, WHATEVER. I also began to realize that I had no cell service - like, at all.

This was one of many things that slipped through the cracks when Christopher was describing Burning Man to me. I also didn’t bother learning about what I was getting myself into, and in this moment, while writing, I notice that to be a life theme. (A friendly reminder to keep up with your self-reflective journal practices, y’all) With the moon shining so brightly, I was also reminded of mercury retrograde and the upcoming full moon. “Recipe for disaster,” I muttered unintelligibly under my breath as I mindlessly and repeatedly tried to refresh my Instagram to no avail. I decided at that moment to keep my expectations low and just go with the flow, practicing acceptance of whatever life had in store. It was going to be a bumpy and spiritually awakening ride.

When we arrived at our campsite, we were greeted by Christopher’s old “Burner” friend, Erick. Unlike the trendy “anarchists” at the entrance, Erick was dressed in a white crop top and floral print booty shorts with a vape hanging on a lanyard around his neck, as a joke to mimic his wife’s favorite casual outdoor summer party-going outfit. He showed us around camp and explained the camp theme and offerings which we were to help with - giving out cinnamon toast and cinnamon whiskey every night from 9 pm to midnight.

It was already sun down so Chris and I put on some cozy costumes and went out to explore some nearby “sound camps”. Sound camps are makeshift outdoor dance parties, but don’t be deceived, some are very intricate and take plenty of preparation and resources to build. We danced the night away and walked through a dust storm just to do so. By the time we got in that night my hair and eyelashes were white with dust. I peeled off my garments and dropped them at the RV entrance with a dusty cloud. We dealt with some minor mechanical issues before bed, which didn’t surprise me at all, (Mercury RX, duh) took a quick and cold RV shower, and went to bed.

The next morning over coffee Chris and I thumbed through the Burning Man 2023 book of offerings to try and choose what to do. The quarter-inch-thick booklet with magazine-textured pages featured only a fraction of the activities that were being hosted from 7 a.m. to midnight. These events and activities ranged from food offerings, both alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, yoga, meditation, discussions and education on blockchain, sex, renewable energy, stem cell research, AI interaction, advanced solar telescopes, YOU NAME IT.

To my surprise, even as Christopher’s sober companion, there was a world of activities available to me. Far too many to choose from. We finally settled on a kind of group discussion and education for unconventional couples as Chris and I have a large age and cultural difference between us. It was rather enlightening and refreshing to swap ideas with like-minded couples from around the country and the world. We were able to build upon some of the respective personal work we had done on ourselves as individuals and stretch our minds to consider applying that relationally to hold compassionate space for one another’s unique perspectives and experiences. Furthermore, it was a relief to just feel like a normal couple in this space and not feel self-conscious about how we might be judged for being an unusual pair. There was a man dressed as a strawberry, not to mention many pairs of exposed breasts which made my sober and relatively conservatively dressed partnership seem boring in comparison.

After our first daytime activity, we went back to “Get Toasted” to find a group of people heading to a nearby sound camp that specialized in serving endless freshly cut organic fruits and veggies from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. This produce was from local Northern California farmers and was quite honestly some of the most flavorful and decadent I’ve tasted. This camp was like an oasis, completely walled off from the dust with vibrant tapestries. There were people, who may or may not have been affiliated with the host camp, walking around spritzing attendees’ faces with rose water, and the music was just as rich as the peaches and peppers. This was probably my favorite day camp by a landslide.

When we had our fill of fruits and veg, we took an afternoon siesta and then decided to find an evening yoga class to warm up for a night of dancing ;) We decided on one of maybe a dozen postings going on at that time, biked over, and plopped down on star-shaped meditation pillows to wait for the mystery instructor to show. After a few moments of awkwardly looking around at the other people poised for the session, a coordinator of that host camp came out and announced that the class schedule was somehow miscommunicated in the booklet and they weren’t expecting us (again Mercury RX). She invited us to stay and enjoy the space for our personal practices.

As everyone continued to look around awkwardly in the proceeding seconds, trying to calculate their next move, I volunteered to facilitate a yoga/meditation session. Everyone was so grateful, especially myself. I hadn’t properly facilitated a group session in nearly a year and it’s honestly one of the most rewarding experiences each and every time - even after 7 years. After the stretching and flow, entering the meditation stage of the class, I fully surrendered to the Burning Man spirit of giving freely and shedding one’s attachments. I realized that I had the pleasure of sharing this class with no benefit or pressure other than to both humbly and graciously give of myself through that medium. I was growing more and more accustomed to the Burning Man way of life with each breath. Free to dress, act, contribute, and do whatever feels good, and conversely inhibited from concerning myself with work or emails or social media, or consumerism, if only for a week.

Life continued on this way, exploring and sharing in the day while dancing to impressive concert displays at night. On the last night before the literal storm, we had an official full moon. Christopher and I did a ceremony that consisted of meditation, journaling, and the ceremonial release-by-fire of that which no longer serves us. After the ceremony, we realized that there was a Burning Man festivity that I hadn’t experienced, yet: art cars.

Art cars are cleverly crafted, still functional, art vehicles all done up with bells and whistles, DJ booths, and sometimes flamethrowers. They’re something of a Burning Man bus system as you just hop on and get transported to another part of the pop-up town. The only difference is you never actually know where it’s going to take you.

It seemed as though no art cars were coming so we went to a nearby camp where I sat for an impromptu moment of meditation while Chris went to dance.

“The perfect art car will come to us,” I told him.

When I opened my eyes and walked over to meet him, he asked “Should we go search for an art car now?”

I pointed over his shoulder as a loud and brilliant vehicle zoomed around the corner.

“That’s the one,” I smirked.

We hopped on to this massive vehicle depiction of a small, alien-like, endangered animal called an axolotl. The creators of this art car were passionate advocates and protectors of this animal as well as its miraculous regenerative stem cells. They had attendants carrying around a binder to educate people on the axolotl and guide us on how we can help protect them. This vehicle was equipped with flames and 2 stories of dance floors, while some art cars were audibly just struggling to drive.

As we started riding, sporadic raindrops began to trickle here and there, but that didn’t stop us from dancing the night away. The art car traveled out to the center of the entire Burning Man camp where there were diverse modern art displays in the form of structures and sculptures. This was where I saw for the first time just how big this thing really was. Here in the center, there were brilliant camps in every direction as far as the eye could see. This experience alone triggered a type of sensory overload that resembled a psychedelic experience.

The next morning we woke up to a huge dust storm. I managed to make it to a “self-compassion” workshop, but while I was there the temperature dropped and it was evident that a rainstorm was brewing. Just as I arrived back at the RV, the small, isolated droplets turned to larger more consistent beads. I was not yet aware of what that meant for the whole of the gathering of 73,000 temporary residents of “Burning Man City”.

The thing about that alkaline dust that fills the valley - just add water and you have yourself a clay or even cement-like paste. Getting around out there is not a matter of “the show must go on”. The nature of this mud is such that cars, bikes, and even feet accrue a thick layer of sludge each time they make contact with the earth, and this sludge compiles into platform shoes if you walk far and long enough.

We had a clear view of a set of porta potties from our RV window and I saw the sludge platforms being formed before my eyes many times over for the next 3 days as people trekked to the restroom. Some tried to put plastic bags over their feet to help protect their shoes whilst others surrendered to the elements entirely and opted to go barefoot to the toilets, all the while getting a proper shower from the heavens - probably the first one in days.

Though walking through these conditions was more or less a matter of choice, driving was strictly out of the question. Rumor has it the porta potties began to overflow, but I didn’t meet anyone with that particular grievance. Chris and I spent much of our time inside reading as luckily his RV cupboards ironically doubled as storage for his book collection. All the while we couldn’t get enough service to check the weather and the only dependable form of communication with the outside world was the Burning Man radio station which didn’t share much other than instructions not to drive.

Even with this inconvenience, there were plenty of people who found it in them to lace up their trash bag boots and find a wet, muddy dance party each day and night. But all of the real Burning Man gems, aka educational sessions and live forums, were canceled.

Many of the friends at “Get Toasted” non-ironically remained very toasted throughout the ordeal. That coupled with the rain inspired Christopher and me to keep inside even more. We ate good food, read good books independently, and then read good books out loud to one another. I hosted many private yoga classes for him, and the thing is, though we refrained from running the generator or using the running water out of conservation, we didn’t get bored or upset at the situation once. I guess the full moon ceremony did its thing. I also must admit that having our own toilet sure as hell did help.

Sunday night is traditionally the night that they burn that infamous man implicit in its title. He is built of… something flammable, I guess, adorned in colorful lights like everything else there, and sat atop a monumental tower filled with fireworks, just so they can set him on fire. I learned that this festival and tradition all began with one man from San Francisco who hosted a ceremonial burn - much like our full moon ceremony - for himself and a few close friends, each year. It grew and grew until it was too big for San Francisco and became what it is today. It was a time to shed the ego identity and experience spiritual liberation from our materialistic society.

As well as the burning of the “man” there is a temple of commemoration. People from all walks of life bring photos and items to build shrines for their passed-on loved ones, or adornments to make whatever they want to make of the space. The temple is burnt at the end of the festival as a symbolic cleansing and release in honor of all who share the temple space.

When Sunday rolled around and the rain showed no signs of letting up, the Burning Man officials announced that the burn would be postponed until further notice. This was the first time in established Burning Man history that the burn had to be postponed due to inclement weather. What’s more, I still hadn’t even visited the Burning Man site or the Temple at this point.

On Monday the sun finally reared its head and the mud slowly began to turn into a solid dirt road. You could hear the sound of engines revving with stuck wheels in the mud as some pre-judged it to be safe to leave. This was originally supposed to be our time of exodus, but given the unpredictable state of the mud, potential flood sites, and the postponements, we decided to stay another day or two.

Though we weren’t brave enough to drive, we were excited to treat our cabin fever with a walk across camp to visit the temple. No one had explained to me what “the temple” actually was at this point. I expected a beautiful, artistic display such as many of the other modern art structures and sculptures on site. What I found was much more impactful; a community memorial site full of Burning Man citizens praying, meditating, and performing various forms of spiritual/energy healing, such as sound healing and reiki.

I lent my healing abilities to the collective as my sixth sense immediately interpreted the healing vortex all around me. After about 30 minutes of sharing in the spiritual work of transmuting the energy of the space to unconditional love and deliverance, I opened my eyes to try and express the beauty I was experiencing from this diverse spiritual setting with my partner. Without warning, as soon as I tried to speak, tears overflowed from my eyes and streamed down my cheeks.

“Some would say that everyone here is so different,” I uttered, my voice thick with the emotional awareness of my humanity, “but we all come here with heavy hearts, missing those who have passed on. We have different ideas about where they’ve gone and how to properly handle it, but in reality, none of us know. We just know that we miss them and that one day the same thing will happen to us and everyone we love. At the end of the day, we’re all simply human. It’s so humbling and so beautiful.”

This was the pinnacle of my Burning Man experience. Better than any two-story, flamethrowing club on wheels of a magical, endangered animal. Better than all the boobies or Decentralized Autonomous Organization discussions in the world. No matter how outrageous we dressed, how creative our offerings were, how well we actualize our sociopolitical ideologies, deep down, we’re all made of the same, fragile stuff.

From this point, we made preparations to view the burns that night and leave the following morning. We trekked to the site of the Burning Man with the other “Get Toasted” camp mates, about an hour in advance, and found front-row seats! The burn of the man was the best firework display I’ve seen in my 21 ;)) years on God’s green earth. Though many campers had left throughout the day, the turnout was incredible. All of the remaining art cars created a perimeter around the burn site, while firefighters and trained volunteers made several more inner circles to contain the fire and ensure no one jumped in - which someone apparently attempts to do each year.

We booked it out of town as soon as possible the next day. The line to get out of “Burning Man City” was rumored to be as long as 12 hours as they could only let a few cars out at a time, and everyone was overdue to leave. Luckily, our exodus only took about 3 hours. To me, the burn night and exodus felt as quick and uneventful as I’m writing them to be. I thoroughly enjoyed the spiritual retreat, but I was ready to enter back into mainstream society and catch up on my favorite Podcasts and YouTube videos.

In essence, I did in fact survive, and I want to say everyone did. Funny how the conditions at Burning Man 2023 are probably that of the daily life of some in other countries, yet warranted national news coverage. I gave lots of work away and postponed some personal project work, caught up on some reading, and discovered so much cutting-edge knowledge that I hadn’t even known I was ignorant of. Most importantly, I quantum leaped to a new state of being through a portal of gratitude and humility in my sober burn of 2023.

Would I come back? I ABSOLUTELY INTEND TO. Only, next time, I’ll bring an umbrella and some rain boots.