Reentry
My head is shaved. My week-long stubble (beard?) is clean shaven. My skin is moisturized. My nails are clean and trimmed short. My nose is not bleeding nor is it caked with dust. My eyes are not sand blasted by the sun and the dust. Oh, yeah, and I’m wearing a polo shirt and pants now. My watch too, I just noticed… I had forgotten what all this felt like… What is going on?
I come back to my senses, I refocus, the room around me takes shape again and the computer screen reappears where it always has been. My hands are still typing on the keyboard automatically doing what they are meant to do. The background noise of the AC becomes audible again. The neon light glares at me in all its bright ugliness. The bare concrete wall in my back reminds me where I am. I’m at my desk, in the office, back to work, back to the default world, the real world, whatever you want to call it, I’m back.
Back to the reality of the modern society I live in. Back to bills, spam, email, meetings, commute, and traffic. Words like merger, stock, release, deadline, general availability and third quarter are everywhere I look. Outside of my bubble there’s homelessness, refugees, war, crime, disease and death. Trump and Hillary madness which borders on the ridiculous. A sprinkle of job cuts at my company in the business news and the picture is complete.
Well, not really… I’m also back to my kids, my mom, and the “good parts” of the life I left behind for almost two weeks. This handful of human beings who cannot follow me everywhere I go, but are part of my being no matter where I am. That’s about all I truly missed.
Not the flush toilets and the running water. Not the AC. Not the nice house and the comfy life I’ve made for myself. Not the thrill of my work and kicking butt and delivering something cool to customers. I didn’t miss any of this. I want to be in the desert again, in the dust, the unregulated heat and cold, the scorching sun and everything else which comes with it. I came back a week ago yesterday, my reentry has been surprisingly smooth, at least on the surface, but below the surface, just below, no need to go deep down, I have a huge void growing inside, and nothing here can fill it.
Playa dust, fairy dust, how I miss you.
Number 4
A week ago (as I write this) I came back from the desert, from Burning Man. My fourth time attending this incredible art and music festival. I’ll just use this label for simplicity’s sake, as I know it’s impossible to categorize it in a single category or even a collection of categories. I even wrote about it in the past but this piece is not about that…
My fourth burn was also my best burn. Each and every burn is different, good or bad, for better or for worse, and leaves its indelible imprint on one’s life forever, like a mind tattoo no amount of laser treatment can erase, and there’s no shortage of lasers at Burning Man! This one was the best for a number of reasons. It cannot beat the previous ones in all subjective categories I can think of, but it’s the best overall.
My first Burning Man experience was an eye opening, mind blowing, sensory overload which allowed me to let go of my old self. A true life event if ever there was one. If I had to sum everything up, I went in with an open mind and came out with my mind open.
Read more at Of Burning Mice and Men Part I and Part II.
My second Burning Man experience was also high up there in the “life events” category and allowed me to take the Kreme Burners camp to a whole new level, the promise of love was in the backdrop, and I lived through this Burning Man week with as much wonder as the first time. While it was another year of self-discovery, it was also a year of reflection, lessons learned, emotional heartache, and the foundation for an even more life altering event to come. I just didn’t know it yet.
Read more at Another Life Event.
My third Burning Man experience was marked by the worst weather of all. That seems to be the first thing I remember about last year. Winds blowing between 50-70 mph from Saturday morning until Thursday. I remember thinking “I’m done!”, and the weather directly impacted my two Burning Man “pivots”, camp life and roaming the playa, both negatively. The promise of love from two years ago was not meant to be, but love appeared in my life once more before I got to reach the playa for a third time, and it wasn’t just a promise. I took love to Burning Man with me and it survived that epic week in the Nevada desert. If anything, that early gauntlet made us both stronger. And dustier!
“Number 4” could not give me what my first burn did, because there’s only one “first” of anything, but it gave me more than any other burn in every other respect.
There was no “old self” to shed and let go of. No baggage, no dead weight, no dark cloud in my wake. I was who I was and that was that. More importantly I was at peace with who I was then.
I took love to the playa with me, stronger and deeper than last year. It didn’t only survive that week in the desert, it embraced it, thrived on it! My dusty desert angel shone bright every step of the way during the long months before we ever got to the playa, during the intensely focused convergence of the last few weeks, the grueling early arrival prep and camp build, the burn itself, and since we came back.
The weather was perfect. This is a very relative matter, but for me it was spot on! Not too hot during the day, not too cold at night, some white outs and sand storms to remind everyone where we were, but none of last year’s crazy wind which prevented the camp from being built and tore down to pieces the little we could assemble. For some people it was their dustiest burn (they didn’t go in 2015) but for me it was just perfect.
The camp ran smoothly, better than ever before, and confirmed my choice to put a cap on the roster at 50-ish campers, as well as implement a number of logistical adjustments which I’ll talk about in more details later.
True, there were a couple blips on the radar… The promise of thunderstorms and the associated gate closure which loomed over us on Sunday morning and set us in a put-everything-above-playa-level frenzy. The longest Exodus I had to go through to-date. But just blips, nothing more.
So yeah, “Number 4” is number one!
Playa dust, fairy dust, how I long for you.
47
There are fiscal years, calendar years, and Burning Man years. My 4th burn also means I’m wrapping up on my 47th year on this earth. That’s by no means a record, but it’s the longest I’ve been around!! I’ve done and seen a few things, I do have a few -very few- regrets, as well as things I have yet to accomplish, which is not the same thing. At macro-scale, I’m not sure how much of an imprint I’ll be leaving behind, if any, but in my little ecosystem I believe I have positively impacted a few lives and done a few good deeds.
I’m at peace with myself, with the people near and dear to my heart, and those who have started to leave me behind. This year provided me with a few challenges on that front, and I carried my grief and loss to the playa alongside my love, joy and happiness. Can one truly know joy without sadness? Can one truly experience love without loss? Can one truly appreciate life without death? I don’t have definite answers to those questions, but I have the beginning of answers… Knowing where I stand in life, what kind of man I want to be vs. what kind of person I am -having actually written down what it means, whether I can look at my kids straight in the eyes and hold their gaze proudly, speak of love to my girlfriend, of loyalty to my mother, and have no regrets about where life was interrupted between my father and I, yes, all those things bring me peace.
Celebrating my birthday on the playa has always been a treat, and this year was no exception. A Day of the Dead themed party organized by my desert angel, tacos made in Black Rock City, music beats and fun to go with it, and friends all around me, old ones and new ones alike. No bittersweet taste in my mouth or in my mind for this birthday. I joke about being an old man, too often for some people’s liking, but truth is I felt great that Monday! I don’t think it was circumstantial. The place, the time, the people, what went on inside my head, it was all good. It felt right. I wish the same to anyone I know.
Playa dust, fairy dust, you blessed me.
Dad
First it was cancer. Came out of nowhere. Was it age, biology, time, fate, or all of the above? I don’t really know. Not sure it matters either… I know it was a shock! I know it floored me to see you, this indomitable force of a man, this giant who had shouldered everything and more, under attack by this disease. Barely retired, after a couple of years of well deserved enjoyment in a life full of work -both physical and intellectual- and hard earned accomplishments, this happened.
You fought it head on!
With the help of medical science, of course!! Being a scientist yourself, a lifelong explorer of the world of physics, teacher, educator, mentor, role model, friend and father. There was no other way but rely on modern medicine. And no question about it either.
With the help of friends and family too, Nouna by your side every step of the way. Oh how the two of you came together! You stayed active, became even healthier than you already were, and took on physical and spiritual challenges stronger and younger men would have considered twice. You made me so proud, again and again, in the face of all odds, and you showed a lot of people how it should be done.
With the help of religion, lastly, which may have been a part of your life but was never really present on the forefront until those last few years. I respect that and I would like to think it brought you peace if not health.
You beat it. Yay! Or so we thought…
Then it was leukemia. Cancer, leukemia, same difference… The machine was broken and it got harder and harder to kick start it again. Or even to keep it running. This time modern medicine was clear on the fact there was no cure, only palliative treatment. It was a matter of time, but the outcome was clear from the get-go.
You took the beating like a champ, you fought with your head high and your chin up. You lived your life to the fullest and you made sure the people you loved knew about it, again and again. So much love radiated from you some times it hurt. You prepared for the unavoidable end very seriously while joking about it every step along the way. You dispensed advice like you always did, and we pretended we’d follow it like we always did. You continued to make an impression of being invincible on everyone until the day you left. Just like that, you died. Just like that, you were gone. But you are still present in everything you touched or built, in every thought, in every moment, and your imprint lives on through every action I take, and no doubt through the actions of the hundreds of pupils and students you taught and later mentored over your life.
Why go down this memory lane? Because this was part of each and every Burning Man experience since I first went to Black Rock City in 2013. My very personal and internal backdrop which only few people knew about. By design. It was my problem, it didn’t have to become theirs. I internalize most of my emotions. I deal with them inside and if needed I write as an outlet, but little can be seen outside. My kids were seriously wondering if I was biologically wired to cry. They had never seen me cry until then. I would tell them I only cried at the end of the Terminator movie (I think it’s from the Oatmeal). But then, I did cry. Shit, I was sobbing like I didn’t think I could. Then after a while it stopped, only to happen again at the oddest time, with the faintest memory or event, without any predisposition or warning.
Visiting the Temple in Black Rock City was always an awe inspiring experience to me. There was joy, there was sorrow, there was amazement, curiosity, inspiration, and even spirituality, however fleeting it may be. But there was also sadness, always! This was a place of remembrance and where I would scribble a note, angry or hopeful depending on the year and my mood at the time. This year I wrote a note simply stating a fact. “Pat, I miss you every day.” Pat, Patapon, Patapère, Patoune, Patrice, … so many names for you, dad. People still don’t understand why I didn’t call you “dad”, maybe because it was too small a word for you. You were my father and so much more!
I have no idea where it came from, but as I stepped in the Temple this year I burst into tears, sobbing and shaking without even realizing it, burying my face in my arm oblivious of all those people around me, who were deep in thought, prayer, sorrow or joyful memories of their own. My cheeks covered in playa dust streaked with tears, I couldn’t stop. Then I was drained. Dry. Heavy. Sad. Moved. Weak. Vulnerable. All those feelings I usually reel from and muzzle as best I can, even more so in front of others no matter how close they are to me. But this time it didn’t matter. I was also full of memories of you, of the life you had created, of all the lives you had changed for the better, and so what if I cried, if anything was worth it, that was it. You were it.
Playa dust, fairy dust, you carry my dad with you now.
Dust Angel
Approximately a year and a half ago I met someone for a few drinks, which turned into dinner and a great conversation. A good night kiss made in France made it hard to go home, so we met again a couple of weeks later, then again, and again… Long story short this woman shook me up, hit me on the head and jarred me awake, out of the sleep walking state I had been in for a while. She cracked my shell open and accepted what was inside. I also accepted that fact too. Others had attempted to do it before, to no avail. I was simply not ready, eager and unwilling at the same time. Unconsciously I tried to sabotage our early attempts at changing our lives, but she saw through it, called bullshit on it and stuck with me.
She thought I was worth it and deep down I knew she was worth it. I just had to accept it, understand what it meant, and allow it to manifest itself on a fully conscious level. I also had to acknowledge my weakness, my vulnerability (here we go again!!), and my flaws. There was no way we could move forward without my going through this process, without my acceptance, and my self-accountability. I needed her forgiveness too. We both needed time. We gave each other what we both needed. I often say she bamboozled me. Oh yeah, she did. With kindness and love. And truth.
Self-awareness is a bitch! Easy come easy go, but oh so insightful. She and I like making lists. Turns out it helps us on many levels. Besides being a practical way of keeping track of more things than I can remember, it also helps organizing those things. It induces a thought process which in turn helps in dealing with whatever you are trying to achieve by creating the list at the first place. And the scope is mind blowing. I assume you’re familiar enough with the inner workings of a shopping list. Seriously, it seems trivial, but you’ll agree it’s helpful. Now try to list all the attributes of the man (or woman) you would like to be. As you do this, try to make every negative a positive! Make every vague item on this list as specific as possible. Break down each multi-topic list entry into a single-topic item. Group them according to common themes. Then sleep on it and do it again. Rinse and repeat a couple of times. You might end up with a brutally honest picture of whom you aspire to be, which may or may not be exactly where you are in life today. This picture could become a guide you may use every day of your life. Try it, you’ll be surprised.
Now try doing this about the ideal life partner you seek. It may be a wide ranging set of attributes and anyone who has ever filled in a dating site questionnaire knows what I’m referring to. Hundreds, possibly thousands, of attributes can be considered, each with more or less importance in your mental model. You know what? It works. The compatibility, friendship or enmity ratings do not stem from a crystal ball, but from a vast pool of data, and boy do I love data! So why not use it in my own personal life? As I said above for your own list, try it for your partner, you’ll be surprised.
It gave me purpose. It gave me clarity of thought. It helped me in removing doubt about who I wanted to be and who I was looking for. It alleviated some of my fears. It also provides a constant reference which is my own, which I cannot lie about unless I lie to myself and deny it. However paradoxical it is surprisingly easy if you are not vigilant. It opened me up to her, and it allowed me, empowered me!, to accept myself as I was. It wasn’t a sure shot and it wasn’t a one-shot either. This is not exact science, but a reusable framework anyone can benefit from. I did. I still do.
Our second burn together was so different from the first one in so many ways it would take another long hand post to describe it. Suffice it to say it was much better. Remember, “Number 4 is number one!” This is not by happenstance. Here I will just say how grateful I am to have met you, my dust angel. I love you.
Watch and listen to Brené Brown’s Ted Talk on “The power of vulnerability” at https://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability.
Playa dust, fairy dust, you are in us.
Like I did in my previous Burning Man posts, I wanted to end the write-up with a song. It turned out much harder than I thought. I was immediately set on the artist, Hubert-Félix Thiéfaine, whose songs have followed me since I was 14 years of age. But which song should I pick ? I relived many emotions while writing this… I settled on a joyful live interpretation of the song Pulque, Mezcal y Tequila for a number of reasons.
Enjoy it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YbvVTE2FNEs
Lyrics are available here: http://www.greatsong.net/PAROLES-HUBERT-FELIX-THIEFAINE,PULQUE-MEZCAL-Y-TEQUILA,171906.html
Closing note: I wrote this in stages, with a first shot a couple of days after reentry, still warm from the burn. Then I went back to it a couple more times, I am only getting to publish it now, a month to the day since I came back.
Playa dust, fairy dust, see you soon.
Frogs in Space 