A M L
4pm: Kenza and I make our way back
to our small tent. We are tired and
hungry from the long day in the sand
storm and hot sun. I grab some trail
mix while Kenza lights white sage and
sweet Palo Santo wood in the tent. A
few of our other campmates arrive. We
tell stories of our day, the art we saw,
and the instant friends we met. For the
next 10 days we have no cell phones,
no television, no way to tell time. I
feel like I joined a Native American
tribe. Huddled around with my
campmates, telling stories to the smell
of burning sweet sage.
6pm: The sun is now setting and the
air is cooling down. I ride my bike out
to the Sacred Temple, soaring 50 feet
in the air made only of wood by
burners the week before. I’m
inexplicably moved the moment I
enter. There are photos of lost loved
ones and images covering every inch
of the temple. It is completely silent
and men and women are sitting down
meditating, writing in journals,
hugging friends. I think about the
beautiful moments I spent with my
grandmother from Israel who passed
away 6 years ago. It’s hard to believe
that I will watch this temple and the
photos, poems, and items from loved
ones burn in a big ceremony in just a
few days.
!
9pm: My campmates and I are headed
out into the dancing, music, swirling
lights, and continuous joy that is
Burning Man at night. My inner hippie
is in full force ready to embrace, and
be swept away, by each new encounter.
I don’t recognize myself, and for this
moment in the high Nevada desert, I’m
exactly where I want to be.
14 THE
CONE - ISSUE #3 - AUTUMN 2014