Tuesday, August 19, 2014

So says the desert dust

(A geometric suggestion)

The last time I went to Burning Man I was in my thirties. I wasn't wearing glasses at the time, for sight, didn't need them. 

2008, 2006, and now 2014, which forms an imaginary mathematical echo, for those that care for that sort of thing, a regular ripple in the numbers.

I am closer to 50 now than 40, with giggling ripples as I go.

I'll be wandering the playa like the great white whale, searching Ahab; floating ships and wobbly boats and harpoons made of foam aimed at the skies, trained on the moon.

Oh, there were lots of other attributes of my life that were different then as well. It was two years before I started writing for this site, which soon hits the five year mark. It has been an odd five years to document, in some ways unexpected to me. Inevitable to many that have been reading along here, perhaps. Who knows how well others can see your life, or how much they might care. For some it may be amusing, others perhaps strange. 

Who knows which lines they might be reading between. At my age the lines have grown to become chasms all arranged parallel. An ocean of warm age.

Well, I am sitting here at work thinking of all the things I will need. Goggles, of course. A keffiyeh, or two, daytime and evening wear.

Scarves, I love scarves. I wonder if I even look good in a dress any more.

Why is it always too late to lose weight. Why?

I put in my request for time off yesterday. I must prepare to be spontaneous, that is my best guess at life. My immediate manager is Israeli, served in the Israeli military, etc. I sent him a picture of Israel and told him that it was a great kibbutz in the mountains, and I a wandering kibbutznik. He approved the time off request within an hour, and I was in a sudden mad dashing search for a ticket, and a ride.

Since yesterday I have found a ticket and a car pass.

I let a friend who arrived in SF borrow my car last night, so that he could run errands today. To buy a bike, shop for wigs, etc. Already my life is arranging itself around the exclusive order of impulse, falling into smaller, more preferable pieces. 

Last night another friend pulled down some see-through plastic bags from storage. They had been left from yet another old mutual friend. The bag was just filled with colorful absurdities: tiaras, boas, oversized clown shoes. Packed with nonsense.

The sticker on the top said, "Burning Man, Casual Wear"

It was the thing that made me chuckle silently from my abdomen, and smile.

From there, I felt differently. The night unfolded around a simple joy. I walked through the Haight with my friends and felt the unexpected lightness of being.

Oh dear precious mystical shenanigans, here I come.