Ronny Diehl Media: Becoming rooted on Burning Man

 

BECOMING ROOTED

Blessed by the darkness of a  ‘magic’ night, me and my two friends take off. Riding with our bikes along the marked roads on the alkyl sand of the flat desert, formed by the lake which dried out 10000 years ago, we decided to turn left once we touched the playa heading towards 10 o’clock. We floated on our bikes in a restless gaze towards the unforeseen distant future, still in great awe with what lay bare in front of us. Nothing but the infinite darkness of the flat desert which was suddenly enlightened by human significance.  Not suddenly but annually – this is Burning Man.  Then a wishful sound from the distance.  The greatest of all human structures in this lunar landscape inflamed the night with its thunderous sound system and within a blink of an eye I shouted to my comrades that the ‘Root Society’ has opened and hailed and cheered into the night (This is my third time on the festival, its the first for them). Off we went, pedalled through the piles of sand, locked our bikes and streamed like rivers into mother ocean, who embraced us with thunder and lightning.

It was early in the evening, around 8:30, yet the giant dome was packed with an illustrious mix of burners, all heavily emboldened by the crowd they formed, the amazing sound system, so loud that its base blew a wind into my nostrils and this gigantic structure - circular in breadth and half circular in height – other burners were crazy enough to think of building and bringing this thing out into this utmost inhumane place. At least a 100 feet wide, another 50 feet high, a huge stage on which sexy half naked women and men were dancing passionately, the DJ was uplifted on a half circular stage, making it easy for the crowd to connect with him. Up above him was a welded steel structure, its top had an open cage shaped like a crown on which dancers performed and hypnotized the crowd. At the moment we were walking into the dome, a woman was crouching down in that crown, with one arm holding herself onto it, with the other holding a buzz saw onto the chastity belt she was wearing producing a beautifully twinkling flow of sparks 10 feet above the dance floor. 

Everything in this place was about energy - and nothing more powerful than sexual energy.  The base was overwhelming, so was the music – powerful as music can be, shaking your body and soul to its core. Everyone was dancing with all their heart and soul, a crowd of people not yet seen on planet earth, partying at the most remotest of places to imagine. Colorful, delightful, everything illuminated in 'Day Glo' , a term once used by Psychedelics to describe fluorescent lights and indeed Ken Kesey and his Merry Prankster would have loved this. In fact, this madness of a festival or should I say 'city' is a direct offspring of Ken and Co.  I see cowboy hats, wild costumes, naked flesh all over, people holding themselves onto smaller circular stage cages peaking out of  the dancefloor, racing the other arm high up and constantly doing the hammer move to the rhythm, just like everyone else on the floor, on the main stage.  There is a confidence paired with joy in people’s faces I have never seen before.

Everyone is cheering and screaming when the beat stops, a lingering melodic sound prevails  – the lights turn on.  Everyone’s attention turns to the DJ who makes a thankful gesture to the crowd which the crowd responds with yet a louder cheer. He then raises his arms as if he wants to embrace everyone. By now, my whole being resonates with the symbolic gesture of the DJ.  As the beat proceeds and the lights turn out my thoughts wonder about how we are all moving to the tribal drums of man’s lost sense of togetherness. This time we are all individualized westerners – the complete opposite of any tribal people – the acoustic sound therefore banging on our ears and noses, reminding our unconsciousness what it once was to be a member of a community where everyone would feel grounded, but, at the same time like Marshall McLuhan said, were there was no escape from. 

I feel overwhelmed by the sheer power of this massive club, a giant in human energy and sound. I look high up and see the night sky – smart as these people must have been when they did the planning for the ‘Root Society’, they did not completely cover the dome with tarp or whatever that material is called but left the whole upper ceiling open, laying bare the triangle structure of the dome’s grid.  By now, I have moved closer to the main stage, more to the middle of the dance floor – I can see my party comrades about 30 feet away – one is still holding onto one of the cages on the floor, the other peaking out of the crowd just by his sheer size of more than 6 feet.  I feel like sharing my amazement and joy with them but cannot leave my spot – close to the DJ, close to the woman with three hula hoops dancing passionately on a stage next to me and close to a girl dancing on another stage with whom I’m starting to share looks.  I just need to stay here in the middle of this overwhelming crowd, all engulfed in ‘psychedelic magic’. The music fades into a baseless sound once more, the lights turn on again and the crowd cheers to the man behind the turn tables – the communal energy is mesmerizing – we all are in this together and we all feel blessed by being part of it – I have never felt it and I was never so sure of it on any other dance club party in my entire life. The DJ’s smile on his face tells it all – words can never express it.  He says Good Bye to everyone by waving – there is a little bit of sadness in his simple gesture too and the crowd responds with a change in its cheer tone as if to demanding him to stay longer.  But he waves it off and basks himself in the following clapping and ovations – his whole persona electrified, his face radiant by the moment.

 Another DJ takes on the stage, the plastic ski goggles and the pelt like jacket give him an outer space look.  He raises his arm to say Hello and turns on the sound. Off we go – let’s get rooted, let’s be part of the ‘Root Society’… Once in while, I will look for my party comrades raising my fisted arm high up and they will do the same. Throughout that night, I will be laughing and smiling and laughing and crying out of the sheer joy of being right here in this club of all clubs. The people will sometimes look at me with amazement and I cannot give them anything else but smile and they will smile back at me of course.  I will feel the energy of this place, of the people, of the desert, of the sky, of mother earth flowing through me and I will take it in and then send it off, being conscious of that energy with the core of my body and soul. And I will have a cosmic revelation that there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of, that there is nothing BUT energy and that I’m part of it, whether I’m aware of it or not. 

After three hours of constant dancing, I realize that I have not paid attention to one of the essential elements of nature, once you are out there in the desert – I made connection to all but one. Of course, there were fire flames in and outside of the dome - this is Burning Man, hello..?! - the bare sand on which we were dancing providing us with the simplest connection of the macro with the micro of this earthly desert and the fresh air flowing down through the huge opening of the dome. But we/I didn’t think of bringing water… and this is Black Rock City… a city of counter cultural dwellers who seek refuge from civilization and commercialism to build their own ideal society out in the desert. And the first thing you learn here is one of America’s most important cultural heritages: Self Reliance.  Nothing more important out in this environment than to be prepared – which of course means that you bring your own water.  You may find a bar which serves alcohol, mainly hard liquor, but you won’t find one which serves water. Providing with the club is more you can ask for. If you want drinks ride to a bar in the playa.

 It is a hot night and I feel the thirst almost making me sick.  It is unbearable when I finally leave the dome. Walking feels like floating on that oceanic desert.  Feels odd to be out there in the great wide open again. I say “Thank you for your work” to a Black Rock Ranger who is standing outside the club – these guys are the city’s own police force. “Not a problem” is his response.  I see a girl with a huge jug of water and ask her if I could take a sip.  She timidly says “Yes”.  Drinking this water is a moment of renewal, now, that I have completed my ancient list of elements.  It is one of the longest sips of my life, thanks to the water girl.  My emotional ‘Thank you so much’ to her is received as timidly as my asking for it.  I turn around and go refreshed into the dome – and I will dance deep into the night of all nights. 

Ron D Y, 2009