Radical Self-reliance

All that your ticket purchase guarantees you is entrance to the event, access to port-a-potties, and limited medical care. Everything else is on you or your camp. That means all food, water, supplies, and anything else you might need in a literal desert must be brought by you. Conditions are extreme in every way: temperatures can range from 100+ degrees in the day to low 40s at night. Humidity is zero (so bring lots of chapstick). Winds of 50+mph create dust storms known as white outs where visibility can be as low as 5 feet. These strike without warning and can last hours.

About an hour before the burning of the man, our camp was about to leave for the center. Just then, a white out hit that forced us all under cover. Our tent was completely filled with dust as belongings outside began to fly away. I was thinking that surely the winds would let up for the burning of the man, then I realized that none of this is under anyone’s control, and there is no contingency plan. We ventured out anyway using Marco Polo to keep track of each other’s locations. Missing the burning of the man because of bad weather never crossed any of our minds.

When I was flying with one of the pilots from the airport camp, another plane flew into our flight path. I was a little bit concerned, but remained confident that my pilot knew what he was doing. A few seconds after I spotted the other plane, my pilot said, “woah, where’d that guy come from?!” and quickly changed course. It wasn’t that my pilot was incompetent or absent-minded; we were flying a 50 year old plane on visuals alone.

A few hours after the Man burned on Saturday, I returned to the site to see a group of about 20 people throwing huge pieces of wood onto the once-dying fire. As the flames grew high again, I realized there were no firefighters or any other authority figures present. I talked to one of the Burners. He and his camp were burning their art car, which had once been three stories of bleachers built on the back of a truck. The car carried a mobile audience and commentators whose subjects were passing Burners. All that remained was the cabin of the truck and some very warm observers.

As I was dancing on the roof of an art car to Diplo, the floor started to crack, forcing us to climb down the ladder (which was really an unattached rope swing) to the safety of the Playa below.

In all of these situations, I had to break away from my internalized trust in systems. Normally, this kind of trust is necessary to participate in everyday life. Constantly questioning the safety of your commercial flight or subway car is a waste of time: these activities are heavily regulated and your skepticism is not going to affect the likelihood of a catastrophic failure.

At Burning Man however, almost nothing is regulated. Wariness is healthy and necessary at times. You and only you are responsible for your safety and well-being. Coming from one of the most coddled and litigious places on earth (America) to Burning Man is like arriving on another planet that has really loose liability laws.

“The ticket purchaser or holder (‘you’) voluntarily assumes all risk of property loss or damage, personal or bodily injury, serious injury or death that may occur by attending Burning Man 2016 (the ‘event’). You hereby forever release, discharge, and shall hold harmless Black Rock City LLC and its officers, directors, employees, contractors, agents, volunteers, and representatives (collectively ‘BRC’) from any claims arising from such risk, even if caused by the negligent act, error, or omission of BRC.” — (the friendly welcome on the back of your ticket, emphasis added)

The Temple

Past the man is the Temple, perhaps the most powerful part of Burning Man. Along with the Man, the Temple is the only art piece that makes an annual appearance on the Playa. Burners enter the nondenominational structure to create small memorials and shrines, typically for loved ones who have passed.

In a place where joyous revelry is the norm, the silent and somber atmosphere stands in stark contrast.