I need to hug whoever created the temple of tears. And tell them thank you.
Not because it was beautiful, which it was. I was actually only inside for a few minutes. I even missed the temple burn because we went out on the playa without goggles or masks and ended turning back in the maelstrom that hit. We were too burnt to get our goggles and make a second attempt in the storm.
I was definitely impressed and awed by the work while inside, but at the time I was there I was not overwhelmed.
That’s why it is so hard to fathom my current state with the thing.
I can’t explain it but I cry whenever I remember the temple. The mere thought! I can’t talk about it with out crying to this day. I don’t cry very often.
I am not sure why or how I have been touched so deeply but I have. That is the power of true art I guess. The capacity for it to move a person powerfully through a hidden place. Perhaps the energy at Burning Man had a hand in it. I don’t really know.
I do know that it’s a good thing the way that I feel, and cry at the memory. I still can’t quite intellectualize it or understand what has happened, but it is definitely a good thing. I am healing somehow inside from something far away and deep in my past.
So to whoever made this thing, thank you and I love you for it.
babakazoo
by Sanford Ponder