A Purposeful Romp In The Desert

0 CommentsWednesday • August 24, 2011 • by Imei

I dislike hate it when someone tells me what to do.

Someone once said, “The day someone pays my bills is the day he gets to tell me what to do.” [That's a pretty good rule of thumb, btw]. The world is full of people who seem to know how I should spend my time, my money, what person I should like, and what films I should enjoy. Marketers study human behavior to predict what people might purchase. Well-meaning friends and acquaintances share from their personal stories, unconsciously hoping you’ll validate their choices by making similar ones. To break free from the cacophony of voices telling me how to live my life, I decided it was time to for a purposeful romp in the desert: Burning Man.

In 2009, I had my first burn. I put my things in a few bags and hitched a (researched) ride from the Seattle area burner Ride Share site. Without talking to many about this desert festival (nor even knowing many who attend annually), I came with an open mind and heart to how a week of self-reliance paired with thoughtful collaboration might help me learn to live a more artful life. In many ways, Burning Man helped me underscore the purpose of my project, Hips For Hire, by showing me a way to bring what I have to the table — enthusiasm, dance, joy, and a heart to help others. Hips For Hire launched two months later.

In a few days, I head back to the Playa: Black Rock City. I am still a dancer. I am still an artist. My heart is still excited, still open, still thumping to the beat of a different drummer. I am drawn to take another romp in the desert because there are still many lessons to be learned, many people to be interacted with, many dances to be traced in the playa dust and under the fires of many structures. By getting away from the tech toys, the phone calls, the emails, and the pressure to produce, I end up being reduced to my emotions, my spare thoughts, my bare flesh and bones. My pedigree, my education and degrees, my friends and family, my ethnicity and political affinities make little difference there. But what I give of myself, what I create, what I sing and dance and hoop and holler — these are magnified, amplified, and worn proudly like couture clothing on the runway of life.

I’m off to my romp in the desert, and it’s not for sex, drugs, or rock and roll. It’s for the art that awaits me, and the art within me that awaits the Playa. There are few pictures. There will be no films, and no live stream. There is no trace, but there are a few remnants: an apron, a map, a pound of dust on the bottom of a pair of boots.

P.S. I’ll be off the radar until after Labor Day. You can leave comments, but they won’t likely be picked up until after the man burns.

Posted in: Art, dance

Tagged with: art, Burning Man, Seattle