CHAOS and CATHARSIS

I stand below a scorching sun in 100-plus degree heat, buffeted by warm winds and swirling alkali dust. The Nevada skies are a dramatic blue, wisped with lazy clouds above the blinding whiteness of the Black Rock Desert.

Encamped for miles around me are tens of thousands of people who have come willingly into this harsh environment for a week of radical self-expression. The pulsing beats of music and revelry reverberate constantly below my feet.

What is this strange place of sights and experiences both fantastic and unsettling? This is Burning Man.

It all started on San Francisco’s Baker Beach in 1986, when Larry Harvey and friend Jerry James spontaneously held what would become the first Burning Man event with a dozen friends. Curious beach-goers were drawn to their group as they burned an 8-foot tall man built from scrap lumber. Two years later, the statue was officially named “Burning Man” and burned for a crowd of 200.

By 1990, the event had outgrown Baker Beach and moved to the Black Rock Desert outside Reno, Nevada, where it has taken place since. Harvey and James had no idea that within 30 years, their random gathering with friends would explode into an international festival drawing nearly 70,000 attendees.

Participants can camp solo, in villages, or as part of a theme camp. The latter all offer some kind of free service, many of which are adult-themed. These services range from music, food and drink, to hair washings, spiritual exercises and gladiator ‘fights’.

While burning the Man is definitely one of the event’s main attractions, the heart of Burning Man culture beats for freedom of self-expression, art, and living in community. In 2004, Harvey wrote 10 principles to formalize what he saw as the corporation’s values: radical inclusion, gifting, decommodification, radical self-reliance, radical self-expression, communal effort, civic responsibility, leaving no trace, participation and immediacy.

There is a darker side to this seemingly well-intentioned event, however. As it has grown, there has been an increase in deaths, whether by vehicles, suicide or accidents. Just this year, Burning Man gained negative coverage when a 41-year-old participant committed suicide by breaking through two lines of security to throw himself into the flames as the Man burned.

The original vision of radical self-expression and acceptance has also made way for behaviors inconsistent with the founders’ goals as the festival has exploded in popularity. Many ignore the core values and perceive their week on the playa as an opportunity to let loose, paying no heed to anyone or anything. In this negligent spirit, there has been a drastic increase in injury, garbage and human waste left behind, and disrespect. Doors have also been opened for darkness on a spiritual level.

However, there are still many who go to Burning Man hungry. Hungry for its sense of community, acceptance, and culture. Hungry for spiritual enlightenment and catharsis from the ravages of life. It is this kind of hunger that has drawn me to the playa these past three years.

I am part of an international team that for more than a decade has gone to provide free coffee and spiritual encounters. Our heart is to create a clean, light space for Burners to rest from the chaos of the playa. Every year, hundreds of people come to relax in our coffee dome or visit our encounter tent to receive healing, cleansing, direction, dream interpretations, and/or a touch from their Creator. All our services are intended to bless people and help them connect on a deeper level with who they were made to be.

Each year I’ve gone, I have been blown away by the generosity, openness and spiritual connectedness I’ve witnessed within this culture despite the dangers and chaos. I’ve fallen in love with how people interact out there, and how Creator works through me to bring clarity and healing to those seeking it. My weeks spent in the Black Rock Desert have been some of the most intense times of self-growth, pushing my limits, and challenging myself to think differently and more expansively.

I cannot say that Burning Man is by any means a safe environment, nor that it is for everyone. What I can say is that I have fallen in love with the honest searching I’ve encountered there for truth, meaning, and a higher form of life, and in recognizing these in other Burners, I’ve come to better appreciate them in myself.

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Abby Owens is a Kootenai County resident.