Ok, it's official: I'm going to Burning Man. I've got the doctor's stamp of approval, and some pills in case things go wrong. I've also got a mattress, which needs to be picked up in the morning before we leave. Part of me is still unsure if going is the right thing to do. I've taken every precaution; I'm not even bringing a bike; not even drugs. Despite these things though, I'm still apprehensive. Perhaps this is the lesson to be learned from a broken spine.
Fittingly named too, L1. Lesson 1 - be cautious. It is the very thing I go to Burning Man to avoid, caution.
I'm also concerned about how I'll feel, emotionally. Have you ever gone out to a bar with friends and not drank? It becomes tiresome, real fast. There comes that point when people begin slurring and speaking nonsense at your face way too fast (and loud), with all the self-absorbed narcissistic charm of a truculent child. You soon realize your consciousnesses are incompatible and a strong desire to depart wells up inside of you. Well, imagine that bar is inescapable, and vast, and dusty, and you can't leave for seven days. Where would you take refuge? Where would you find repose?
These are my fears folks. I see them on the horizon and march toward them dutifully. Indeed they shall be vanquished, but what a bloody battle it will be.
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