I wasn’t a Burner my first day at Burning Man or my second.
I wasn’t a Burner until my third day.
Wasn’t a Burner until I decided that I wanted to be the performer dancing for the crowd.
Wasn’t a Burner until I went to the Temple and cried as I let go of my self-hate, my insecurities, my anxieties.
Wasn’t a Burner until after writing on the Temple wall and growing I decided to gift the marker that had been gifted to me to a tattooed, bad-ass looking-mother-fucker, sitting outside the Temple.
Wasn’t a Burner until when I handed him the marker he looked up at me and started crying. And I sat and I heard his story, his pain and struggle. And I took a little of that struggle off his back with an open ear and a firm hug.
Wasn’t a Burner until I realized that with the tiniest act, I could change the world.
I’m a Burner now. I know where True Home is but I try my best to make everywhere I am Home, one open ear and firm hug at a time.
by Cosmic Trooper