Archive for September 10, 2008

Burning Man 2008: SEX & THE CITY (SOME ENCHANTED EVENING…)

September 10, 2008 by PT Rothschild.

A JEDI’S METTLE vs. THE 3 TEMPTATIONS OF POONANNY – PART 3

Black Rock City, Nevada – The actual burning of the Man will be covered more in depth in another story, but the night of the burn brought me my last Temptation of the Poonanny which rolled in as light as a feather, completely opposite from the encounter at Spike’s (see preceding story).

After the burn and the walk-around by thousands of ‘burners’, I looked back from the still burning Man and his structure. Every art car from every camp was parked around the perimeter of the burn. In every direction were the lighted visages of art cars. The Man as a landmark was now gone and any Esplanade landmark lights had disappeared behind the facade of art cars. Staring around and being in the midst of thousands of people, all wearing something lit or flashing, moving about in all directions willy-nilly, turned my sense of direction topsy-turvy. I could feel agoraphobia trying to worm its way into my over-stimulated sensory awareness. I might as well have been on acid for the way the world was turning and the lights spinning. It was surreal to say the least, but I had been out in the desert for five days now and through several dust storm white-outs. My stomach had adjusted. My taste buds had adjusted. My bile had adjusted. I was not going to lose it now. I was ‘at home’ here and I felt accepted (even Mongoose had marveled at my adaptability). I would find my way home like an Obi-Won.

I mentally chilled and walked over to a fire spinning exhibition and watched as young people threw fire around like dancers at a luau. The crowd of onlookers grew thick and after I had seen my fill, I surrendered my front row spot and wandered toward the outer ring of art cars. After walking past several of them, each with a party going on to booming music, I looked and saw an art car from my neighborhood, the bug mutant vehicle. I walked over and breathed a sigh of relief. Even though the ‘bug’ looked to be at full capacity, judging from the size of the party dancing to the 80’s music at its side, at worst I figured I could follow it back to 8 and ‘D’. I danced a few numbers but I didn’t seem to melt into the crowd as with other BM gatherings. I felt restless for some reason. I couldn’t believe how alone I felt too, even as all the world around me was rocking out to the climax of the Man burning.

A guy walked over to me and I told him about the ‘bug’ being from my ‘hood, and a landmark for the way home. He said that he wasn’t sure about having room for me aboard the ‘bug’ or that they would be heading back to my side of the city when they left the art car circle around the Man. But a central tenet the city revolves on is ‘the kindness of strangers’, so he pointed out into the Playa darkness and said, “That way is eight o’clock.” I sighted off the ‘bug’s’ front grill and started off into the darkness, lit only by my own LED illumination (as this is flat desert, there is nothing to trip over, no crevices, rocks, stumps, or dips).

As I walked the roughly two miles back to my city zone, I stopped every now and then to listen to the sounds of partying that wouldn’t slow down until the sun started across the horizon. Me, well I was partied out. The whole week had a profound effect on my mind- can I get a little fear and loathing here, Amen! - as it tried to process the sum of all the parts of Black Rock City. My sleeping pattern had changed to being awake nocturnally with maximum resting occurring during the heat of the day. I wasn’t necessarily tired; I was more numb, wrapped snuggly in a blanket of Playa dust.

After a timeless walk, I began to see the outline of lit landmarks that I recognized. As I walked toward a familiar giant red neon heart, a shimmering blue-green LED tree similar to the ‘jelly fish’ art car appeared off to my left. Somewhere a voice was saying ‘stay focused and continue forward’, but my curiosity was stronger and I was drawn like a moth to a flame. I got closer to the ethereal LED lit man-made tree sitting alone out in the darkness. A distant, long forgotten memory started to surface in my mind.

I stepped onto the white metal base platform of the tree. The entire art structure appeared to be made of metal, painted white all around and the leaves that hung were cut leaf-shaped fabric. Each leaf had words written on it which seemed almost impossible to read in the available light. Under the leaves and completely encircling the tree was a metal bench to sit on, but each bench section seat corresponded to a pie slice leaf area. As I looked at a leaf and tried to read the words on it in the eerily comfortable blue-green light, I saw a young man sitting in the bench section next to mine, waiting it would seem, though from the way he was sitting he might as well have been in an adjacent dressing room, as he seemed not to even notice me.

As my eyes tried to make out some of the leaf writing, the long past memory streamed into my conscious. I was standing in and under ‘the Tree of Life’. In the last report I had read about Burning Man so many years before, the report that led me to having God decide on my attendance at this event (see ‘I traveled to Black Rock City by KAR), I was standing at the place where you could come and sit when looking for a companion to be with. It was called ‘the tree of Life’ because it brought two people together to validate life and living, sexually. Almost at the same time that I realized where I was in the city, a young woman appeared as if by magic to sit on the bench in my section of the ‘Tree’.

She said ‘Hello’ in a British accent without looking up, and my heart skipped a beat. Though she kept her head bowed, her skin had that creamy British Isle complexion in the ‘Tree’s’ strange glow and her short-bobbed straight black hair only added to her allure. I wavered, thinking of spending my last night with a complete stranger and of the total release of self available either with a loved one you trust, or with an absolute stranger you may never see again.

Then, like Neo, I remembered that I had been down that street before. I knew where it led. I also knew that if I gazed into her eyes and we spoke, the spell would be cast and my fate could take on an entirely different direction from its present projected course that was revealed to me in a vision long ago. Still, the notion of loving someone with complete abandon had its enticing aspect but I told myself that this year I was here for the story, not the sex. I did a quick glance again at a leaf, stole a second look at the Brit girl I was passing on, then I stepped out into the Playa darkness, homeward bound.

Later that night or in the pre-dawn morning before I drifted off to sleep accompanied by the sounds of the party eternal, the shadows on the tent ceiling formed to reveal a smiling but sinister caricature. Communication was felt more than spoken. The shadow expressed that all he was looking for was a little sympathy. I said/thought, “That’s OK. I’m a Rolling Stones fan and aware of the song they did expressing that theme.”

I then rolled over and went to sleep.

Daylight was just starting to brighten the sky over the mountains. In the space of the Devil’s visit, I had gleamed some knowledge. This place was indeed sacred and the Devil couldn’t roam it the way he did in the Default World because there was no love of money here. The absence of a cash-based society was anathema for him. Still the Devil was the Devil and therefore could be a hostile witness against you at your Judgment, and in the worst way, against your heart. Since my heart bears a romantic notion, the Devil had sent 3 Temptations to me, all a ‘sure thing’. The first was the Temptation of Convenience (the Adulteress). The second was the Temptation of Lust via a ‘honky tonk’ woman. And the third, the most seductive of all, was the Enchantress and the Temptation of Chance. But I had persevered. My Jedi Knighthood was intact. Besides, there was always next year!

To be continued…

Next: Home on the Range, Where seldom is heard a discouraging word.

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