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| The Temple - Burning Man 2013 |
Nobody warned me about the Temple at Burning Man. My friend led me there on Saturday as he had a duty
to fulfill. The mother of a friend had passed away the week before and he promised to leave a message for her there.
He told me this in advance, but it didn’t prepare me for the
power of the temple.
We rode up in the heat of the afternoon passing through the
now normal dust storms along the way. I
had my arms draped with yoga bracelets from Silver and Sage (one of my
friend's friends made them) with the plan of handing some out along the way – but that didn’t
happen.
This is because this area is sacred…and a place unique to the rest
of Black Rock City.
When passing through the camps lining the streets of the playa, you
always hear some sort of music, conversation, laughter or a call-out for free
drinks, free pasta, free massages or whatever people happen to feel like doing
at the moment.
When you walk through the boarded fence marking the perimeter of the Temple, that all ends. The vibe changes. It's somber. It's sad. It's different.
When you walk through the boarded fence marking the perimeter of the Temple, that all ends. The vibe changes. It's somber. It's sad. It's different.
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| The wooden fence outlining the Temple's perimeter |
The first thing I noticed was the silence…and then the
tears.
The dub-step beats you hear in the background in other parts of Burning Man didn’t reach the Temple. Here you heard the wind and sometimes that wind would trigger the gongs within the Temple to echo within its structure. But that was all you heard.
No one spoke. No one made eye contact.
It was a place to be alone with your own sorrow, hurt and demons in the midst of hundreds of other souls wandering around and doing the same thing. You're lost and invisible in your pain amongst the crowd.
The dub-step beats you hear in the background in other parts of Burning Man didn’t reach the Temple. Here you heard the wind and sometimes that wind would trigger the gongs within the Temple to echo within its structure. But that was all you heard.
No one spoke. No one made eye contact.
It was a place to be alone with your own sorrow, hurt and demons in the midst of hundreds of other souls wandering around and doing the same thing. You're lost and invisible in your pain amongst the crowd.
The Temple itself was a plain wooden pyramid that they would
burn on Sunday night. But while it looked like nothing special, it was the most powerful
structure on the property because it was filled with a combination of human suffering and peace.
As you walked around and weaved your way through the sections, messages written in marker on the wooden beams lined your path. The messages were simple - but their honesty was raw.
As you walked around and weaved your way through the sections, messages written in marker on the wooden beams lined your path. The messages were simple - but their honesty was raw.
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| Messages left on the Temple |
While walking I read things like:
- "Sarah, please forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
- "1979 -2012 – He was taken from us too soon.”
- "I am beautiful…and one day I may actually believe it.”
- "Tara, I love you. I wish I would have told you.”
- "Please…give me another chance. Derek.”
- "It's been a year, and I still miss you."
There were also photos of friends undergoing cancer treatment, those who had recently passed and shrines to friends and families.
The temple was truly an unexpected spiritual place in this vast place of dust, crazy outfits and happy go-lucky cyclists. And I could see how when it burned on Sunday
night how the experience could help release the emotions trapped inside the
people there.
It was amazing.
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