Burning Man leaves a permanent imprint on everybody who goes about a way of life that is based on a giving society. The movie was the proverbial golden ticket of temptation to see and experience something that most people can only imagine.
I love getting into strange people's cars almost as much as I love having strange people get into my car. It sounds crazy, and maybe I'm too trusting, but what I do know is that I have done rideshare approximately one billion times, and have never had a bad experience.
Instead of pressuring myself to see the world, run a marathon or win a Grammy (as a mom to a toddler, I consider it a victory when I leave the house with clean hair), I thought I'd let myself off the hook on some of my least favorite activities.
There is an expression one uses after an exceptionally good day or night on the playa... "I won Burning Man." It means you did it right, you slipped into the flow of the universe and something magical happened.
Whenever you hear about Burning Man, you hear about the art, the peace, the spiritual enlightenment, and, most importantly, the freedom. When you hear of Burning Man, you never hear of crime, and you certainly don't hear about a rape.
Burning Man didn't suck. It didn't seem that different from past years. It had all the magic, community, sacredness, emotional center and impossible-to-describe otherworldliness that we Burners struggle to convey to outsiders.
While I have experienced -- and want to affirm -- the absolute centrality of letting go, I would like to complicate it somewhat also. Because it matters what you're letting go into -- and that, I think, is actually the harder part of the work.