Then back, but better. Totally rebooted my system. Defragmented everything.
Entered the greeter's station and was told "Welcome Home." That phrase, her voice, is camping out inside me now.
Made new friends by NOT knowing how to set up a sun canopy. Indeed, the gods -- some bearing dreads, strong hands and cowries, others bearing stakes, strong advice and margueritas -- are everywhere.
Walked lightly on the land, brought all my garbage home to my own dumpster in my own alley. Decided it's time to start teaching my son the REAL reasons I hate littering. And it's NOT just about him making more for me to clean up.
Watched J. climb a tree with other kids. 5 times without a scratch or poison ivy or a tick (no offense, Tick Townies.) Started to feel okay about other parents watching him a few minutes at a time. Can’t stop thinking about Amy traveling sooo much with her son. Surely there is a lot I can learn from her about balancing the single-parent thing AND being a whole woman. Wanted to cry when I woke up Sunday and saw they were gone.
Was freed of my Friday night depression by a mom (Kat, I thank you!) convincing J. Saturday afternoon to go explore the Big Ship across camp with me. If it hadn't been for her, I fear J. would have never let me get off our "block" of 6 families around Traffic Light Camp.
Realized his control over my life isn't his "fault" or due to my own bad childhood -- it just wound up this way. And I can change it if I really pay attention more to my own needs, not just his.
And so I have just booked my flights for a nice long trip to the playa without him, with plenty of time to prepare him and not sure exactly how he and my ex-husband will do without me! But they will be okay. A lot of good surprises can happen -- if I'm honest to the right people about what I need.
Learned that the somewhat-Madonna-styled poet in a silk white corset (and little else) seemed a lot like me on the inside. Learned that a very plainly dressed woman was an incredibly skilled fire dancer, a true artist. Decided to stop worrying about whether I dress wild or plain when I perform. Together, those 2 performers were inspiring and comforting to me beyond belief.
Silently said thank you to DD and the pizza loft, even though I couldn’t take advantage of it, while carrying my J. home at midnight after the Burn.
On the way out, I got hugged by a naked lady. It didn’t feel weird. And recognized by a fellow poet who heard me perform Saturday pre-Burn and appreciated my work.
Seen, heard, accepted, appreciated. How long have I been looking for these things? How long have MOST of us?
When we got home, J. decided to spend the rest of the day naked -- with a glowstick necklace. And not only did I spend the rest of the day wearing a scarf for a dress, I managed to hoop for 4 minutes straight. First time since I was his age.
Watched my video of the Burn. Un freaking believable.
Showed J. my video of him with Stella. Just beginning to realize how much Bill's poet/child family meant to me. Hoping this was just the beginning.
Told my ex how relieved and happy it felt to discover J. and I were NOT the only Black folks there! Giving thanks, feeling renewed, feeling whole, giving thanks.
Decompressed already? You’re kidding, right?? In May my studio hard drive crashed and I lost all the music I’ve EVER recorded (except what was mixed and online somewhere already.) So I’ve been rethinking my whole path as an artist. And following (*gasp*) a folk singer named Joe Pug around as inspiration towards a simpler, powerful way to express, perform, be.
Then I attend my first (*anxious…*) Burning Man event. The consolidation, the learning, the re-creation of my spirit has just, JUST gotten started.
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