burned before. more or less
Aug. 23rd, 2003 06:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
burnunit"Under the desert sun, in that dogmatic clarity, the fables of theology and the myths of classical philosophy dissolve like mist. The air is clean, the rock cuts cruel into flesh; shatter the rock and the odor of flint rises to your nostrils, bitter and sharp. Whirlwinds dance across the salt flats, a pillar of dust by day; the thornbush breaks into flame at night. What does it mean? It means nothing. It is as it is and has no need for meaning. The desert lies beneath and soars beyond any possible human qualification. Therefore, sublime." - Abbey
Ten years since spending a summer reading Desert Solitaire over and over. Learning later that others had already answered the call of the dry places, others had already been on the trackless paths and had built there a glittering home drenched in fire... well it seared my mind. O your beauties your smoke and fire!
Then again, enough stories trickle through, filter through like so much dust between cracks in stone and wood: what have we done? What are they doing coming together all in one place, risking too much and squatting in the desert which does not belong to them?
This year I certainly grew tired of one thing: hearing reasons that I should go to Black Rock City. urk. I first heard of the thing in something like 1997 but in the mind, I had a home in the desert four years before. And a lifetime before that knew there was a fire out there somewhere that burned just for me.
The day will come, though, there isn't any doubt. And there's certainly no blame. What a life I've been living in the years since I met Edward Abbey through his book, since I first dreamed of the desert under the darkest night sky you've ever seen, reading hunched over a kerosene lantern, coyotes erupting fifty yards away, cigarette dangling from my gaping mouth as The Maze, The Canyon, The Arch, The Mountains, The Playa all took shape in my mind. This life has not been wasted.
Poking through the survival guides I find these passages and my heart grows warm:
"Daytime temperatures routinely exceed 100° and the humidity is extremely low, which rapidly and continually wicks the moisture out of your body. Because the atmosphere is so dry, you may not feel particularly warm, but you'll be steadily drying up. Sunscreen, lip balm and skin lotion are your best friends on the playa.
"At nearly 4,000 feet above sea level, the atmosphere provides much less filtering of the sunlight that causes sunburn. The result is you will burn much faster and more severely than at lower elevations. Put on sunscreen every morning and repeat as needed during the day. It takes nearly everyone a day or so to acclimate to the desert climate. Don't be surprised if you spend your first day feeling a bit queasy and cranky. Begin drinking more water as you approach the desert. To stay healthy and enjoy the week, drink water all the time whether you think you need it or not."
Astounding. O this is someplace I belong! Listen, compiled from dozens of speeches to young campers:
'We're above 5000 feet here. You can burn in minutes up here. No one leaves this camp without sunscreen. It's very dry here, so you won't realize how hot you are sometimes. You HAVE to drink a lot of water. Especially while you're not thirsty. If you're thirsty, it may be too late. Tonight, after the sun sets, it's going to get very cold.'
And I remember the hike when we started out at 70-80 degrees and hiked back in the falling snow (that was just dumb). And the time the temperature dropped from ninety to 50 in under four minutes-- we were up on the mountain, of course--and there was never any rain despite the sudden advance of clouds.
My fond memories leave me at least one impression: I belong out there. O the chance to survive for real, to hunker in the true high desert. And this world, this midwestern-world I've seen these many desertless years... there are stars above the prairie that might as well not exist anywhere else. there's a place where the clouds shape themselves into worship-objects of a hidden goddess. there's a town where the buildings are as beautiful as any of the ancient world, and they're all abandoned-- maybe it's because they are that they live so fully. The Missouri may be our closest thing to the River Lethe and I swam in it freely, forgot my desperation every time I touched its waters.
But as if that wasn't enoughs, they build these gypsy temples out there, these mad-god monuments that ache with meaning or that are as they are and have no need for meaning. There aren't such things here, that I do know. There should be.
No, you know who belongs at Burning Man as much or more than I do? Helen. My mom would be like unto a living saint of the playa, a wizened buddha-lady among the madmen and the wanderwomen. THAT'S the campaign my dear dear friends should be focussing on. It's not I who need reasons to go to the desert (though I did appreciate hearing that more than one fellow-traveler goes because he believes, like I so do, that God is in the desert) It's HELEN who needs to be convinced to go to the desert. She's so much closer to old age and death than I am, we need to form a movement to get her onto the playa and SOON, where under the shade of the day she will unlock her wisdom for us and hold back the wind.
Lo the day is coming, burning bright like a furnace, when i will finally come down off these mountains and with my blessed beloved wonderful little family, reunite with the good people we love. And then, then we'll prepare for the desert. We're coming, I promise! Wait up wait up!
Ten years since spending a summer reading Desert Solitaire over and over. Learning later that others had already answered the call of the dry places, others had already been on the trackless paths and had built there a glittering home drenched in fire... well it seared my mind. O your beauties your smoke and fire!
Then again, enough stories trickle through, filter through like so much dust between cracks in stone and wood: what have we done? What are they doing coming together all in one place, risking too much and squatting in the desert which does not belong to them?
This year I certainly grew tired of one thing: hearing reasons that I should go to Black Rock City. urk. I first heard of the thing in something like 1997 but in the mind, I had a home in the desert four years before. And a lifetime before that knew there was a fire out there somewhere that burned just for me.
The day will come, though, there isn't any doubt. And there's certainly no blame. What a life I've been living in the years since I met Edward Abbey through his book, since I first dreamed of the desert under the darkest night sky you've ever seen, reading hunched over a kerosene lantern, coyotes erupting fifty yards away, cigarette dangling from my gaping mouth as The Maze, The Canyon, The Arch, The Mountains, The Playa all took shape in my mind. This life has not been wasted.
Poking through the survival guides I find these passages and my heart grows warm:
"Daytime temperatures routinely exceed 100° and the humidity is extremely low, which rapidly and continually wicks the moisture out of your body. Because the atmosphere is so dry, you may not feel particularly warm, but you'll be steadily drying up. Sunscreen, lip balm and skin lotion are your best friends on the playa.
"At nearly 4,000 feet above sea level, the atmosphere provides much less filtering of the sunlight that causes sunburn. The result is you will burn much faster and more severely than at lower elevations. Put on sunscreen every morning and repeat as needed during the day. It takes nearly everyone a day or so to acclimate to the desert climate. Don't be surprised if you spend your first day feeling a bit queasy and cranky. Begin drinking more water as you approach the desert. To stay healthy and enjoy the week, drink water all the time whether you think you need it or not."
Astounding. O this is someplace I belong! Listen, compiled from dozens of speeches to young campers:
'We're above 5000 feet here. You can burn in minutes up here. No one leaves this camp without sunscreen. It's very dry here, so you won't realize how hot you are sometimes. You HAVE to drink a lot of water. Especially while you're not thirsty. If you're thirsty, it may be too late. Tonight, after the sun sets, it's going to get very cold.'
And I remember the hike when we started out at 70-80 degrees and hiked back in the falling snow (that was just dumb). And the time the temperature dropped from ninety to 50 in under four minutes-- we were up on the mountain, of course--and there was never any rain despite the sudden advance of clouds.
My fond memories leave me at least one impression: I belong out there. O the chance to survive for real, to hunker in the true high desert. And this world, this midwestern-world I've seen these many desertless years... there are stars above the prairie that might as well not exist anywhere else. there's a place where the clouds shape themselves into worship-objects of a hidden goddess. there's a town where the buildings are as beautiful as any of the ancient world, and they're all abandoned-- maybe it's because they are that they live so fully. The Missouri may be our closest thing to the River Lethe and I swam in it freely, forgot my desperation every time I touched its waters.
But as if that wasn't enoughs, they build these gypsy temples out there, these mad-god monuments that ache with meaning or that are as they are and have no need for meaning. There aren't such things here, that I do know. There should be.
No, you know who belongs at Burning Man as much or more than I do? Helen. My mom would be like unto a living saint of the playa, a wizened buddha-lady among the madmen and the wanderwomen. THAT'S the campaign my dear dear friends should be focussing on. It's not I who need reasons to go to the desert (though I did appreciate hearing that more than one fellow-traveler goes because he believes, like I so do, that God is in the desert) It's HELEN who needs to be convinced to go to the desert. She's so much closer to old age and death than I am, we need to form a movement to get her onto the playa and SOON, where under the shade of the day she will unlock her wisdom for us and hold back the wind.
Lo the day is coming, burning bright like a furnace, when i will finally come down off these mountains and with my blessed beloved wonderful little family, reunite with the good people we love. And then, then we'll prepare for the desert. We're coming, I promise! Wait up wait up!