It was amazing. It was wonderful. It was thought-provoking, it was art, it was life, it was death, it was love, it was self-exploration, it was an ultramarathon. It was all of these things and more. How could it not be? It was Burning Man.
It was an amazing week - I camped with one of my best friends ever, Rachelle; Rachelle and I had a playa wedding (How could we not? She hammered my rebar, built me a shower, and didn't mind the explosion of sparkles everywhere.); I saw some amazing art; I rode around on my kick-ass fuzzy hot pink fake fur beach cruiser; I directed my first race ever, The Burning Man Ultramarathon; I PR'd in the Burning Man 50k with a time of 5:34 (woohooo!); I once again danced to Madonna while drinking Pickle Juice Martinis; I ate lots of pickles; I dealt with sunburnt lips; I ran around in next-to-nothing but not nothing because next-to-nothing is much more interesting; I danced at DeMentha while drinking mojitos; I saw old friends; I made new ones; I fell in love.
Decompressing is always hard, but this year it was the worst. Monday afternoon, upon receiving phone reception, I learned that my beloved grandfather had died the Thursday before. As I was falling in love, dancing at Burning Man, he was dying/had already passed. I cried inconsolably on the car ride home. My mom told me the other day, "I think he would have been happy that you were dancing. He always loved to dance." Good friends told me, "Maybe your grandfather is the reason you fell in love...maybe he instilled his spirit into Burning Man to ensure you found love." Whatever it was, I am trying to hold onto his beautiful memories while going forward with the amazing ones that I will continue to create with my love.