I woke up this morning feeling giddy and excited. Three days from now I will journey to a dried up lakebed in the middle of nowhere to spend the days rediscovering who I am. I wasn't going to make it this year due to a myriad of issues but at the last moment the playa called me, and I couldn't say no.

Going to Burningman means so many things to different people. It is so easy to get swept up in stories of orgy style parties and endless drugs. Some people talk about the hippies or the ravers, whatever their particular bent is. That is all true . . . as with any city, if you look close enough you will find just about anything.

But, on the playa, its magic. It is the only place in my life I have ever felt connected and fully accepted. Nowhere else do I feel that people understand me. I understand that my outlook and view on life is often significantly different. It is one of the reasons I tend to not make connections in this every day life. Its far simpler to have many polite aquaintences. However, on the playa . . . its understood. The people who actually treck to the playa with everything they need to survive the week . . . those people get it. They understand the need to experience everything this life has to offer. The good, the bad, the unusual. The experiences that you draw from in those down times to pull you through.

When I think of my burningman experiences, the ones that move me are the ones that taught me so much about myself. My very first burn with the Tribe (my group) we had planned and worked on our project for months (a move theatre in the desert). I had taken several trips to Sacramento and San Francisco. I was ready . . . I was fired up. We got to the desert and began to build our circus tent. The wind was thrashing and dust was flying. It was hot, the sand stung, it wasn't the best of times. I was very task oriented, wanting to get this "done". Soon, a group of men . . .adult men . . began whooping and hollering. They had lost their hula hoop and were chasing the hoop down the playa. I noticed and went back to the task of holding down the circus tent while the men attached the gromets. Next thing I knew . . . the adults in MY group were chasing this hula hoop. They left our job to go chase a childs toy.

That made me so angry! We had so much to do and these adults were chasing a three dollar item. I stopped to figure out how to keep working while this pack of now 15 or so people chased a hula hoop. I thought it was idiotic that these men ran after this rolling hoop in the wind . . . leaving responsibility behind . . .

And then, it hit me. Thats what we are here for. Jimmy grabbed my hand and pulled me along. Soon, I was one of them . . . I was chasing a hula hoop across the desert. That hoop would roll in the wind, fall down, pop back up and roll more. It would slam into cars or structures and pop in the air. Others joined our run . . . I lost my shirt somewhere . . . This went on for probably thirty minutes. Finally, the hoop was caught and everybody began to cheer and hug, clap and cry . . . it was amazing.

it wasn't the hoop. No. It was so many strangers gathering for sheer fun and joy. It was acceptance and a community event. We all were best friends after that. We had connections.

Maybe that is why I love the playa. Connections with others can be made in moments. A look, a touch, a gift, its there. It touches your soul. You come back with your heart so full of love and joy that it exudes for weeks. Here in the real world I can't hug a stranger or cry with a woman I just met. I can't put on a purple tutu, snakeskin boots and a cowboy hat and walk out my door to find somebody else with the same idea. Out there, I am truly me. Out there, I can express myself in any way I choose and be alright.

On the playa I am free. That is an amazing way to be.