This is (was?) pretty much the mantra of the village I usually camp in. And let me tell you, truer words have never been spoken. I’m not one of those people who gets the magical glittering of unyielding and unbridled pixie sprite love of continuous universal energy that unites us in peace, love, unity, and respect at Burning Man; but I am one of those people who just likes to be out on the playa, having fun by myself or with friends, and just enjoying the general feeling of “being.”
I equate “being” with that feeling you get when you don’t have a bill, deadline, cats to herd, or people to please. You know — that feeling.
Another mantra I’ve adopted for Burning Man is:
Like mother nature and her white-outs, people and their egos also have their agendas. The solution to both? Fucking wait it out. What the fuck else can you do? Try to talk and you just get a mouthful of sand.
Oh hai, I’ve updated this post. Read this: Burning Man Sucks, Don’t Go — Redux