Naked hippies and dust storms. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.

Every year since 2008, digital reminders influence my social streams with glimpses of Burning Man, a Mars-like utopia.

Snapshots of dusty whiteouts, ear to ear smiles, glowing LED hug parades, pasty covered Zombies, Mad Max wannabes, and 2015's buggy stunt — the invasion of pestilence. For 7 years, I figured Burners had lost the plot.

Some might call it a desert freak show. It’s an Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test held in Black Rock City. 70,000 dusty insomniacs galavanting with merry pranksters atop colorful magic school buses appropriately named “Galactic Cruzader.”

It wasn’t for me. At least, I didn’t think so…

Like most naysayers, I sat back. I watched. I judged. Ignorantly, with eyes wide shut.

Each year, I justified my absence to the tune of running toilets, warm showers, craft cocktails, and air conditioned bedrooms with king-sized pillow top bedding. I was a skeptic. True and through.

But maybe I just wasn’t ready?

Because after attending my first Burn, I have no idea why I waited so long.

Whether the time is right for you— and quite honestly it may never be and that’s alright because it’s not for everyone — Burning Man will cast a spell on the most ardent naysayers.