Despite the hedonistic nature of the gathering, I found it to be a pleasant antidote to a prior three months of self-indulgent travel through Europe. I became aware of not only people vocalising their needs but when their body language indicated they were lost, hungry, looking for something or worried and took every opportunity to help them. If someone did need to vocalise their manifestation to a group, every single member of the party would respond to their needs. “Does anyone have a head torch I need to go to the porta-potties?” “Here take mine,” “I’ve got some extra batteries you can have,” “I found this torch today so you can have it,” “I have some (bio 1 ply) toilet paper,” “take this hand sanitiser too” and “do you want me to come with you?”
For the closing ceremony of sorts, the temple burn, the moon rises full, round and orange on the horizon and a Mexican Wave of howling rolls through the crowd. Silence soon ensues broken only by the occasional larrikin, audible sob, or gasp as the crowd admires the falling structure as it burns to nothingness. In it are pinned effigies, photos, letters, promises, resolutions and stories of pain and suffering people want to free themselves from. One man has cut off his goatee of eight years after realising he was hiding behind it and it too goes up in smoke. My thoughts draw to my own penning’s: promises to myself and others, seeking peace from recent hurt and solace for grieving friends and family. They seem more powerful than any new year’s resolution and more likely to manifest as there is a community of burners to account to and an environment rich with promise.
Riding home with a doctor and a nurse we joke that a trip to Burning Man could cure depression, although establishing a research study, blinding subjects and randomising them to control and experimental groups would be humorously impossible. We settle for Burning Man being able to resolve all worldly conflicts instead. First up, Putin vs Pussy Riot in the Thunderdome. The people’s decision is final and binding.
Blissfully unaware of what was happening in the default world, we route to Reno in a dream exodus and Black Rock City radio announces “it doesn’t get any better than this.” We stop in Gerlach and pay real world money for sandwiches and the shopkeeper informs us that 85% of her annual cash flow comes from burners. Despite the obvious economic benefits, the environmental impacts are real. Bags of trash and empty plastic water bottles litter the highway upon exodus and sadly not all of it looks accidental. The carbon footprint of the burn comes mostly from bringing everything in, including people, to such a remote location. Despite mitigating attempts from organisers, theme camps and individuals, such as utilising solar panels, one estimate places the carbon footprint of the event at 27,000 tonnes of greenhouse gas emissions, the equivalent output of 7,100 average Victorian cars annually.
The future of Burning Man is controversial with ticket fiasco's, claims of cultural shifts and expanding populations threatening its survival and many veterans opted out of this year’s burn in protest. But for me the experience was magical. I leave Burning Man believing that people are fundamentally compassionate, generous, welcoming and non-discriminatory. Is it that Burning Man attracts such people or are all human beings capable of these traits? Perhaps it’s a combination of the two. Either way it’s an example of what people can achieve with collective consciousness and common goals. Oh…“and then a giant octopus car drove past and did a dance with its arms. And, and, and it had eyes on every side of its head and they popped out and it spat fire at me.” I know ya’ll saw that one.