(sometimes ya gotta admit, ozzie said it best ~ before the tv show, that is.)
yes.
last year, upon returning to the playa for my second round, knowing (kindof, although every year is gloriously unique) what to expect, and knowing that i loved it and that it was my home ~ my home planet, i dove in head first without looking back until i was submerged in BRC love and it permeated every cell of my core, as surely and completely as powdery playa particles permeated every inch of my surface. i was a child in a world of trust, appreciation, acceptance, self-love, expression, and freedom. intentional, mindful, and passionately in love with
every.
single.
moment.
i was who i wanted to be, and a citizen of a population who *got*me, and loved me.
i is-ed in a nowness of
delicious
lip-smacking
booty shaking
eye opening
mind popping
pure.
possibility.
upon returning, and seeing a world that seemed to me so far removed from that darn-near-close-to-utopia that i experienced on the playa, my heart immediately plummeted into a muddy murk of longing
and waiting. to return.
don't get me wrong: this has been an INCREDIBLE YEAR!
of realities coming to pass that were not so long ago filaments of the highest imagination and dreamscape.
amen and hallelujah!
i showed up for that, i promise.
but you didn't hear about it much, did you? cuz:
where's the spark? what happened to the light? my creativity: zilch. motivation: what?
the inner journey has been an uphill crawl. and i didn't always show up for that. (and i sure didn't feel like blogging about it.)
i feel older. and tired.
and i guess i been doing more dwelling and less manifesting, huh?
Y:
it's time! to return! the fire has not yet lit under my be-hind that i'm Almost Home once again, but i can hear the flick of the bic. yes, please.
playafy my hiney, wouldya? wrap me in powder, sunburn me dehydrate me nighttime desert hallucinate me and send me to bed at dawn with no sleep and do it all again the next day. rainbow kaleidoscope musical dream me to my inner is-ness till i can't tell the gorgeous difference between the you and the me and the we and the rockingness of the here and only NOW.
and when i leave that particular playa plot of dusty enlightening (in-lightning),
it is my intention, i set it right here and now ~ .
: i will bring the playa back with me.
in the Survival Guide for this year ~ the Green Man, the front page article by Larry Harvey is entitled "The Default World". this is the name that folks who share my utopian vision of BRC have labeled the REST of the year, the rest of the world, where we put on our uniforms and try to look normal. where Katrina hit and polar bears are stranded, that one guy is still in office, and "our" country is still at war. Harvey writes that, upon exiting BRC last year, there was a series of signs that read, "welcome . . to the default world: . . whose fault. . is that?"
these words spoke to me; i am guilty.
and i ask myself ~ is it only the wonderland of BRC that i missed all year this year, or was it largely that self-loving dream-living childself i left behind, powdery smiling dancing glowing now only in photos?
well, she's not allowed to selfishly stay. she's too much fun and i love her too much. i'm bringing her with me.
we have a big year coming up, i can feel it. changes coming down the pike that are gonna rock our galaxy!
so i'm setting the intention now. in front of you and who all else and the universe and everybody: i'm gonna show up like the superhero i is. i'm stepping in to the cape and wonderpowers for playatime and i'm not taking em off: there's LIFE to be lived! watch out!
"If we learn anything from Burning Man, it's that Black Rock City is ours to make in whatever image we want, and so is the rest of the world. In a very real way, the Green Man isn't the end ~ it's only the beginning."
here i come.
photos ~ choose the caption that best describes the photo:
kiddos play at night
gemini flies by break of day
shadows on the vastness
dancin as if now is now
playafoot: a symptom of a larger experience whereby the viewer realizes everything. is. art.
