Radical participation

I remember the first time I heard the name "Burning Man". I was on a boat in the Red Sea. We were diving three times a day. There was barely time for anything besides getting our dive kit on and off between dives, eating and sleeping. The occasional game of 30 Seconds. And several good conversations. I wasn't having a rough time. I wasn't premenstrual. I wasn't even homesick. I was certainly not susceptible to unbidden tears. But the words "Burning Man" sent a shiver down my spine. And when Richard described, in a few broad strokes, what the event was about, I almost cried at the thought of it.

Now, I've never been to Black Rock. I've never seen the Man burn; I've never partaken of that magic. I've only heard of it, and wondered what it might be like. The photographs tell me one thing only: that I can't tell til I'm there. I'm not sure I'm ready to go there. But, it seems, there is ready to come here.

(If you've never heard of Burning Man, I am not the person to tell you about it. Rather go read this:
http://www.burningman.com/whatisburningman/about_burningman/experience.html)

Last week, I discovered that a friend his helping to organise Afrika Burns, which bills itself as "an art festival heavily inspired by Burning Man". In other words, a little bit of Burning Man comes to Africa. Ambitious, I thought. Fucking awesome, I thought. Damnit, I'm going to be away in July, I thought. And then: Thank God for that. I mean, how the hell would I, within a month, come up with a creative offering that was equal to the task of radical participation that Richard had described that day in Egypt?

Out of curiosity, I checked out the website, and then checked out the Facebook group that the organisers have set up to keep participants in the loop. As I skimmed through the online information, I couldn't help getting the sense that the organisers haven't quite gotten their point across. I see a lot of people lining up to buy tickets to the rave of the decade. "I hope this isn't gonna be another crappy hippie trance party," says one. I cringe. Depends, I can't help thinking. Are you going to make it more than that? What are you bringing, besides those cool expectations?

See, Burning Man isn't about going and getting wasted in the hippest, most spectacular and most wildly creative setting you could imagine. It's not about going and being entertained. There's nothing passive about Burning Man. My descriptions should adhere to E Prime here, in fact: everything about this event screams ACTIVE. Do it, make it, bring it, and give it. Freely. Think of surviving in a harsh place. Then think of doing that while simultaneously sustaining others - not just with bread and water. With art. With flowers. With buildings. Think of generosity of spirit. Multiply it by 1 000. That's how I think of Burning Man. Think radical freedom of expression. Multiply that by a whole lot of powers of ten too. Getting there.

So. Burning Man comes to Afrika? Amen. You're thinking of going? Amen. Just grant me one wish: Go without expectation. Go with arms full of your gifts, and palms open, expecting nothing. And make it something beyond any of our wildest dreams. Everything you're hoping for, take it with you and give it away. That's the only way it can ever come back to you, and even it doesn't, you'll find it already has.