I'm getting that feeling again, the warm and fuzzy one as I begin to anticipate going home to the Playa. I feel the desert sun, hear the beat of the Deep End... Then the innate planning side of my brain starts to send me little nudges to start stocking up on jello and booze and batteries, sort through the gear and feeling the familiar silt on my fingers. I start to wonder what I can contribute this year. Today I found one man's story. If you have not read this be sure to:



I arrived in Black Rock City many years ago dazed and confused. I started wandering around checking out the art and the life, but my enthusiasm waned because I was starting to feel overwhelmed and a bit ashamed. What if all these people knew that I couldn't even draw a stick figure or hammer a nail? They would throw me out, label me a spectator, and most importantly, cut me off from this vibrant community that I was growing to love. Surely this open-to-all community didn't mean to make me feel ill at ease? In the end, it sort of worked itself out over time. The community pushed and pulled at me over the years until finally I crawled out of my shell and did something I had never done before. I did something that I really enjoyed, and I did something that other people liked a lot.

More... at
www.burningman.com/particip..._man.html