I went to Love Burn, a pseudo-Burning Man regional event in Miami, this past weekend.
The event had never called to me before, and I was on the fence about it this year. But then the date (Jan 25-29) was right after a big milestone in managing my dad’s estate, and I thought, What the heck. I’ll go. It might be good to have some release and relief after a rather emotionally and logistically intense time in my life.
I had visions of warm weather, sunny beaches and dancing-dancing-dancing. Dancing in the day. Dancing in the evening. Dancing late at night. And dancing on the beach as the sun rose.
None of that was to be. I mean, I swayed and bopped to the ever-present music, though I never found a happening dance spot or any place with more than a dozen or so people dancing.
And the weather, oy! Did this cobbler ever have some problem with her shoes! I harp on people all the time about bringing layers (and especially warm layers of wool) any time they go camping. But, no, I was going to a beach in the tropics. Why would I need warm layers?
The wind, you might say. The wind.
Ah, the wind. Yeah, lots of that. As in non-stop wind. Gale force winds at times. And cloud cover was almost nonstop. I arrived in the afternoon on a cloudy, windy day and pretty much freaked myself out, knowing that I had pulled out of my suitcase (don’t want to overpack, right?) so many sweaters, layers, warm hats and such. I had no idea how I was going to make it through the weekend. (Note: my version of under-packing for camping on a Miami-area beach included a merino wool skirt, a cashmere top, merino wool leggings, a neck gaiter and furry vest, so I did have some layers for warmth.)
My camp was lovely. Sweet. Friendly. Capable.
And while I knew people there, I wasn’t tribe-connected in any big way, so I was mostly by myself, which, I understand, is more of a choice as I could have plugged in more. I was content to spend more time with myself and walk amidst the ocean breezes in the somewhat warm air.
I shocked myself by meditating three, four, five times a day. It was so windy that often times after adventuring out, I’d come back to camp, but I’d usually head back to my tent. Not much to do in my tent, so I meditated. Mostly I smoked a whole lot of cannabis, turned on the YouTube meditations of Steve Nobel (my internet savior) and meditated morning, noon and night … and then some.
I encountered an amazing sound healer who had an epic breakthrough for himself in the level of healing he was able to feel/do/experience with me, and he even started having visuals and images flood into him as he leveled up. Our whole experience together included many layers of leveling up.
I also volunteered to do “any” shift at The Sky Bar at Love Burn 2018! and was promptly put in the Sunday, 12 a.m. – 3 p.m. slot, the last shift for the bar. The projected rain that night didn’t come (yay!), and I thoroughly enjoyed pouring drinks and serving beers five stories up on a six-story structure. Much more so than I had expected to.(KJ Donoghue and crew: you all are amazing.)
Overall, I’m glad I went. There is something magical about the ocean, and for that alone, I was grateful. As ever and always, I love and cherish the burner community: land of the radical self-expressers, the participators, the do-ers… the adults who know how to make stuff happen and who know how to play.
Thanks to the Snowbird Invasion of Love Burn DC crew that helped ferry gear to and fro; to the many organizers of camps, art projects, art cars and more; the volunteers; the good people of IAMU goes to Love Burn! and more.
Once again in my life, what I thought was going to happen, didn’t happen. But what did happen was pretty darn cool.
