Wandering Yeti (agaperos77) wrote in burning_man,
Wandering Yeti

Basking in the Luminescent Love Light of the World

Alas, it's back to the city where cars move faster than bikes, buses have no bars or sound systems or dancing platforms, where the women all cover their beautiful breasts and where most gifts are percieved to have a monetary value. Still I know there's cracks in the city's armor where I can bring back a ray of light from the luminous galaxy of beautiful creatures that was the sand mandala of Black Rock City 2006.
I have too many stories to tell in a mere live journal post, and anyway if I tell you everything here I don't get to see the look on your face when the stories are transmitted or give you a hug when my heart overflows with joy.
I landed in Black Rock City with a camp of delightful folk who have a Cleu and enough love and light to share, feeding more than once a virgin Yeti who misplaced a whole bag of his food somewhere along the way. I found a few new friends among whom is Captain LeCleu, the fearless leader of Cleu Camp, a snickering old wizard who can speak like an oracle sharp as a dagger and smooth as a toke.

I tripped on Friday night, taking the sacrament into myself as the Pleiades rose over the eastern mountains, the phantasmagoria of the city nearly tearing me to shreds but for the sacred dome of Entheon Village wherein the paintings of Alex Grey put me in touch with the Buddha of my body and from there to Gaia's body, and the body of Nuit. On the open Playa "Every man and every woman is a star" was a real experience as I saw the Christ and the Serpent in the stars, and after Artemis left for the other side of Babalon I saw Heaven and Black Rock City woven from the same fabric, a galaxy of dancing stars above, within, and around, the Spaceship of the Earth Mother below and everything throbbing in time with eEernity. As the Trip wound down I descended the Chakras using the map provided on the floor of the gate of Entheon Village. As I approached the Solar Plexus, an old Crone came up. As I turned on the Chakra to let her pass my resentments against the Crones in my childhood was released. On the Sacral Chakra I encountered a ravishing little sprite who hugged me, connecting all of our chakras and pulled my qi all the way down to my root before being released to the Earth where I encountered a lovely Princess to whom I gave greetings from heaven and a hug.

My fear of intimacy burned with the man, and as I danced my way around the pyre I encountered 3 Shaktis with whom I shared dance, a kiss, song, and just the right words as my tongue was the instrument of Gaia's heart. My central altar icon of 3 years, painted during my Saturn return in 2003 on the closet shelf in my room at the Belle Mansion, focus of my devotions throughout my trip with the Divided, that role's demise, the death of the Priest, my father's funeral, and the death of the Rockstar was placed in the Temple of Hope before it burned along with the lance given to me by Doubt Goat with which I perfomed the Gnostic Mass from 2001 to 2004, a fan which I inherited from an old lover in the SCA, and some drawings representing my resentment...another aspect of the armor around my heart went up in flames.
In the largest structure on the Playa, called the Belgian Waffle, built by a group of Belgians who made the model of their project with matchsticks while stoned out of their minds; looks like a pile of matchsticks in the distance and becomes amazing spiral dance womb of the Mother as you approach. When I tripped on the Day of Venus, walking across the open Playa I walked toward the structure which looked like a gigantic green bud, or a forested mountainside, lit up all green, her heart full of dancing devotees, shadow dancers projecting their gyrations on the wall for all to witness, looks like gigantic bird eclispising the sun while it dances; as I approach the gyrating lights within make the structure throb and melt and twist and I realize Kali, the release of Death everpresent with the undulations of Life upon the Throne of the Earth Mother, Babalon, and so I placed my digeridoo among the wooden web's skeleton and watched it burn just after the Temple of Hope, and the silouhettes of the devotees I saw superimposed over the base of the bigglest fireball I've ever seen up close gobbled up my reluctance to accept the shining glory of my heart, the hiding of my art is at an end.

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