As I drove into the Playa a dust storm enveloped my vehicle, shrouding me from all surroundings, nothing but a white dust cocoon of smoke and energy manifest. The greeter, a man dressed in the respectable kung fu gui, accepted my gift of two cigarettes, we hugged, cheered, unfolded a map and swapped huge brotherly smiles… It had been a long time, but I was home again, this time in a new place far from the cracking surf which I call church.

Home is a state of mind I first found in the redwood forests of Humboldt County, a timelessness of being surrounded and welcomed by the ancients, the smiles of friendly strangers, an unconditional sense of belonging. I drove further into my mad max fantasy while as my sparkling eyes were met by others erecting fresh camps, and the greetings of ‘welcome home’ became a mantra in my mind and a large warmth expanded through my chest and my body became alive, finger to toe.

I arrived at the playa with a soul brother, one who knows and respects me like no other. We beamed and yelled and broke into song about every twenty minutes of every day. To be free is hard to describe. I would be pressed to say it is an awareness of the limitless potential which lies within, a knowledge of the deep-seated creativity which lies ready to burst forward round every bend and turn and the capacity to anticipate and harness opportunity when it reveals itself. I am lucky in many ways, though I have heard it said by a surf master “That there is no such thing as luck, only good preparation.” I still feel lucky and unprepared, I suppose that is the nature of embracing chaos. I am able to live and breathe cleanly only through optimism, motivation, creativity, flexibility, reverence, and respect. Honesty is a temperamental glue and fiction is steadfast yet slippery like a watermelon seed.

Home. A place where I am free to be me. A place where I can step across absurd societal norms, expectations and mandates with no fear of intervening self-appointed third person authorities. A place where I can be expression, not a pilot of expression, but to actually be expressive in any way possible – minus destructive tendencies which amazingly tend to vanish altogether from my psyche when freedom is reality.

I wish to give my deepest appreciation to each and every person who was both guest and host in our most interactive shared home of the Playa this year. I love you all for being who you were during that week. I have been flying ever since I left BRC with dust-filled tears, I constantly am reminded of the beauty and potential I witnessed as a member of a most amazing little temporary autonomous zone.

Magic never dies and love is only as far away as you push it. One big collective hug.

by Six Codig

About the author: Tales From the Playa

Tales From the Playa

Tales From the Playa are dreams and memories of events that took place at Burning Man, as told by participants. Submit your story here.