In 3 days I'm going to a burn. Those of you who have been to the "big burn" (#BurningMan) or a regional burn (my fave) know what this means. It's a bunch of stress to get ready, prepare my life to accommodate 4-5 days absent, and pack everything I need (radical self-reliance, folks!). It also means I will be in a place with no hierarchies, no bosses, no schedules, awesome music (until about 4 a.m.; I bring ear plugs these days), art everywhere, ridiculous whimsy, silly costumes, people trying to feed me, people open to conversation and meeting me, people making music, people dancing, people reciting poetry, people being weird and accommodating--even celebrating--the weirdness of others, and just... I think these are my people. I don't love all of them, but I love a hell of a lot of them, and loving them is my first instinct.
Where in the world are the joyful motherfuckers, though?
Fearless lovers though, rainbow shooters though?
Wild acceptors though, the hopeful sinners though?
Gentle teachers though, true forgivers?
Les courageuses, les amoureuses?
Les enfants braves? les grand-mères jeunes? les lumineuses?
I think a lot of them are going to be in a forest in Pennsylvania in a few days.
