Temple of Hope
by Mark Grieve and the Temple Crew
I am so overwhelmed
in this sacred place
full of loss and love.
Those we have lost
and whose who have left us.
If ever I felt the loss of suicide
it is now.
May I walk from this blessing
with a new freedom from life.
May we all leave
blessed and whole.
And when this temple burns
may the goddess embrace
all that we have written.
I never expected to have such a deep emotional experience in one of the temples at Burningman. I am going to try to write it here, but I know that I will never give it justice. The above poem was written by pure inspiration while I was in the temple.
There was so much love and loss that it was quite overwhelming for me. So many pictures of mothers, sons, friends, daughters, etc. who have been killed or who have killed themselves. The love was intense and pure. I cried, I couldn't stop....there we a lot of us there who were crying but none of us cared.
Everywhere there were words of loss and love. For those of you who don't know me or read my personal lj - I have suicidal tendencies when I am depressed - which happens more than I care to admit. On one of the wooden pieces someone had written a love letter to a boy or man that had killed himself. They talked of their anger and now of their love of that person choosing to leave them and his life. I took a photo of it close up and I hope that it develops enough to be able to read it.
I need to remember it and how I felt reading it. Depression is so hard to understand for so many, as is suicide. And the writer of the letter had finally realized that this man did NOT kill himself out of selfishness, but out of a need he had within himself. I thought of my husband John, who didn't join me to the desert this year, and for the first time in my life I thought how my killing myself would affect him. I could not bare the heartache of leaving him alone to write letters like this one. I was blessed by this temple and this one letter gave me the courage to fight off the future suicidal tendencies that I know I will have.
I read some of what the others have written and wrote a love note to John's mom, whom we lost to cancer 8 years ago now. I told her that we miss and love her. The death of her anniversary was this past Sunday, but I took comfort in knowing that I had left a piece of me with her at the temple. I thought of my friends who have lost someone they loved, and the others who have suicidal tendencies like me - I wished that I could have shared this emotional experience with them because I know that they could have had a part of them healed, just as I had standing there.
I left my pen there for others to be able to write their memories, letters, and whatnots. I hope it was used and not taken for selfish reasons. I didn't want to leave, I wanted to remain in that temple that was so full of love and loss. I was afraid that once I got back I would forget all that I have gained there, but I was lucky to have had my journal experiences to bring back to help me not forget.
I will never forget....
(Thank you to my fellow burners who loaned me their photos to include in this entry.)
It's meant for College Visits with a parent and child, but anybody can use it.
Code is H568 and must be entered at the time of purchase online. There are blackout dates, and you have to travel on at least one week day.
Anyone else trying to get to Decomp festivities can try it. Not sure if it's a national code or not, YMMV!
Now, on another note, anybody on here who will be in Chitown for the Decomp Block Party, post me a reply and lets at least meet up to say hello. I'm also in contact with some local people to volunteer, so I'll be around.
Any thoughts would be wonderful.
After an impromptu arrival and magical experience in Blackrock City, Nevada, I through the car door open of my ride share home in a disgusted fit. What the fuck was this Crazyfuck thinking let alone trying to do. What did he want… some repayment for his generosity over the course of the past 5 days I didn’t even spend with him? I was not going to kiss him under any circumstance. I peered over to the driver’s seat. He looked hurt and shot some patronizing comment my way as I stormed from the vehicle. “ I needed some fresh air I told him.”
So as we all inched toward the two lane highway that began our journeys home, I hopped between various vehicles to chat with other burners about their week and to put me in a better mood. All was fine and good, until I in this process…lost track of my ride home.
Oh shit I thought to my self carelessly, at least I got rid of Crazyfuck. But nonetheless, there I was… standing alone in between the endless lines of cars… in the middle of the desert with nothing but me, myself, and a skimpy dress that barely covered the bottom of my super comfy, green lace ladybug panties I’d slipped on this morning for my ride home.
So what does a 120 lb, 5’2” female do in this situation? Work her feminine charm and flaunt her sexuality of course, and what better place to create this magic than the gates to Blackrock City. So to make a long story short, it didn’t take me long to find a bus full of enthusiastic folks willing to take me my way… well so I thought.
So recap, I’ve escaped Crazyfuck, have none of my shit, no wallet, no money, no keys, no ID, and most important…NO CELL PHONE. I know, I know, I am a city girl at heart, and am attached at the spleen to my cell phone, and now I couldn’t even call Crazyfuck to let him know what’s up, where I was, not to worry, and where to drop all my shit.
Will continue later…
I wonder why?
Sept 8, 2006
I wonder why I cry when I get close, when I arrive. I wonder why I cry when I realize it is time to leave for Burning Man. ... These thoughts have run through my head for the last 6 times I have gone. There are times that I knew why, but never really analyzed it. I think because it was painful.
What would a world be if we had a community that shared each other? They hugged, invited strangers in to share food, drinks, laughter, and ideas? Do you ever wonder what it would be like if it were 100 years ago? 2oo years +? Many people lived miles apart, some close. But, when they needed help with cattle, tilling the soil, buggy rides into town, birthing, food, gardening, or whatever, did they not ask their neighbors? For the most part, yes. What would it be like if we had that sense of community now?
Do you long for the closeness, less crime, less drugs, less animosity, less abandonment? Don’t you wish that if you needed something your neighbors were there to help? Even if it was for just a drink of water or to rest, to eat something because your diabetes was acting up or your hunger got the best of you?
I realized most of my emotional roller coaster was due to the longing of such happenings. I ache because of my sadness that we, as a community, are not there to help. I ache because we do not know our neighbors, or because they sell drugs, beat their children, yell and fight, and just plain ignore each other when they pass us by. Do we reach out? Not really. Why? Are we afraid that we might get the cold shoulder, or get yelled at, or get a fake smile or hello? What are we afraid of nowadays? What is it that makes us so numb to what we truly are as a people, human?
Have you thought about this? I know I have. I cried yesterday because it hit me over the head like a brick. I finally organized it in my head, then opened up the folder in that little file box in my brain. WOW! THAT is what it was. This is why I cry from beginning to end.
I know when I left the playa this year, I started to cry before I left my campsite. I looked at my campmates and was sad that I was leaving those that I have befriended, depended upon, enjoyed thoroughly from the inside out. I met some wonderful people this year, family, like me. This is what I long for. Humans like them, like me. I felt welcome, needed, and appreciated, like we all desire whether we know it or not, or admit to it.
Every year I have gone, I have brought something back with me, something to change. I see things in a different light every time. I realize something new each time. I meet a new family each year. Each year, I have new family. Every year.
Do you wonder why we get emotional at the burn? It is a very powerful and / or emotional experience. My first year, the first thought that ran through my head was ‘that is sad, he burns and dies.’ But, that lasted for only a few minutes. ‘Why can’t I put my issues and negativities into the burn?’ I see it as a new beginning. A way to put forth our negative thoughts, emotions, and experiences into the fire and let it go. Start anew. Some Native Americans, some from other parts of the world believe that when you burn your loved one, or a symbol, it is a new beginning. They (their spirits) are released into the heavens, the skies to begin their new life. This is the beginning of a new life.
I heard a virgin behind me keep saying how sad it was. I wanted to turn to her and tell her to think of it differently. But, like myself, I did that on my own just by watching and feeling. A wonderful lady in our camp, Jupiter, cried. She apologized. I told her to don’t ever apologize. It is a powerful thing, emotional. More so that we could expect. I was blessed to be there to experience that with her. A young man just walked up to her and held her tightly. A stranger, a burner. They held on for quite awhile until she started to relax. They then split up, and she thanked him. THAT is what it is about. He felt her, and went right for her. How much more bonding can you get with a stranger? Now imagine what she went home with! She told me she has things to think about now. Oh how I know what she means.
When I get home from the burn, I get extremely tired, sad, sore, lonely, ill. This is my entrance into the "other" world we live in. My decompression is to just decompress. To let what ever it is in my body release and then go on and I will cry off and on for the year now. I will remember my family, friends and experiences that made MY burn, mine. I will remember.
Those of you I met, I do hope to see you there next year, to live in "our" world again, even if it is only for a short time.
Ms Kitty or Kitty
You have been invited to visit a photo album PS> the dark videos are of me, drunk. I don't drink much often, so I was looped.. http://s60.photobucket.com/albums/h6/kittykreations/B%20Man%202006/