_date: sep 7 2025_ --- I just got back from my first burning man. I was expecting to attend cool parties and to be living in rough~ish conditions, essentially an outdoor music festival on hard mode (because it’s a week rather than the typical 2-3 days, and because the desert is a fairly hostile environment relative to your standard festival grounds). Those expectations were met; we had rain and mud for ~2.5 days, intermittent 50mph wind gusts on the first days, took us 24hrs of queuing to get in because of the weather, access to showers was limited etc. And the parties were indeed cool: the setting is insane (in the middle of a desert, open air, thousands of people on bikes), the music stages are beautiful, and the people let loose way more than in “normal life”. What I didn’t expect is everything else that Burning Man ended up being for me. For starters, the playa grounds. Imagine a vast desert expanse that takes ~3-4hrs to go around by bike. By day, there is art everywhere that you can stop at, climb on or sit by for hours, an open-air exhibition of sort. By night, everything comes alive. The cold desert is pitch black but the art, the music stages, the art cars, the people and their bikes are all lit up. This creates a pretty surreal experience where one (usually dressed in a thick fake fur coat 🧥) is biking in the desert at night, bombarded by myriads of sounds and lights coming from all directions. Then, the people! While the grounds were beautiful, the thing that took my breath away is the human experience of Burning Man. Everyone attending tries their best to live by the [Ten Principles of Burning Man](https://burningman.org/about/10-principles/ ) -- a self-enforced social contract centered around self-expression, gifting and inclusion among other values. Strangers would smile at each other, stop for a conversation, offer their help and check on others spontaneously, share their life stories, hand out gifts whether it be food, music, necklaces or a song. This resulted in a beautiful contrast: the harsh desert environment against the thousands of colourful, lovely people roaming around. It created a safe, welcoming and accepting environment, and fostered human connection and serendipitous meetings throughout the week -- some that lasted for a few minutes before we went our separate ways and some for days. Many of these meetings are still lingering on my mind a week later. One particularly memorable experience for me is the 'Temple', a large wooden structure that is burnt the day after the 'Man'. Around its center room, hundreds of pictures of loved ones who passed away in the last year are nailed to the walls by passersby alongside heartfelt messages saying goodbye. On the last day, as the Temple burns, their pictures and messages burn with it as a way to bid them goodbye and let go of grief. As I walked around the Temple and took in each of these messages, I started crying. At first a few tears and soon, the more messages I'd read, the more tears flowed. I didn't know any of these people but the energy surrounding the temple, and the grief felt by others was so strong that it was hard not to connect to it. Inside the temple, people are sat down in a full-circle amphitheater, some with their eyes closed, some open, all in silence and mostly all crying. Hundreds of people grieving together. The experience was powerful and deeply moved me. I never expected Burning Man to be so beautiful, to have so many memorable encounters and to have such depth. The week blew my mind. I cried multiple times, both of happiness and sadness, laughed with friends and strangers, danced until my legs couldn’t, stared at art for hours, admired nature watching sunrises and sunsets over the desert mountains, listened to strangers’ life stories, witnessed artists pouring their feelings out on their instrument, grieved with strangers, got lost many times over biking around, attended a philharmonic orchestra concert in the middle of the desert, the list goes on. Looking back on the week, I'm left with several thoughts - give people a playground with a minimal set of rules and see what emerges — this is what burning man felt like. the playground is the desert, and the minimal set of rules are the [10 principles](https://burningman.org/about/10-principles/ ). everything else flows from it and likely changes every year. - it was interesting to notice how quickly my personal overton window shifted — at the beginning of the week I arrived much more uncomfortable at the sight of someone naked for example, and much less willing to let loose. by the end i’d dance whenever I want, sing whenever I felt like it, and had lost all surprise at how people were dressed (or lack thereof). people's radical expression and my radical acceptance of their expression both had an effect on my perception of them and my level of comfort in expressing myself. something to think more about! - this was such a beautiful experience that left me wanting more -- some of what happens over there is suited as a once-a-year experience, but a lot of it is energy i'd like to bring into the rest of my year. i'll be thinking about how best to do so and am curious for your thoughts! I realize now Burning Man is not merely a music festival, it is a yearly reunion of a movement to perpetuate and celebrate its culture. A special place in the Nevada desert where a community of open, kind, self-reliant people come together once a year. I’m so thankful for this experience, thankful to my friends for letting me tag along (shoutout to you all!), thankful to our neighbors and extended family for sharing this special week with us, and to everyone else who welcomed me warmly over there — shared some of their food, their stories or just a smile ツ Everyone has their own meaning for the Man burning. To me, it represents the burning of our ego and individuality, as the man burns we realize [[(ツ)/blog/on emptiness|emptiness]] and experience how deeply linked we are to each other. See you next year! *ps — happy to help any of you reading this considering attending burning man! just reach out :)*