Burning Man: The Temple at Sunset

Dancing Wolf was full of light, and joy, and secret pain. The wolf skin headdress he wore was antique, but I could tell that he had taken immensely good care of it. Wolf, he said, was an animal he held a deep connection with.

We talked about totem animals, the powers which draw people together, and the passages we experience as spiritual being from one stage of existence to the next.

These are things I do not normally talk about. Having once lived in a religiously-oppressive country, going to a Christian school which taught me that John Lennon and Frank Sinatra were advocates of Satan, and attending a church lead by a minister who stole money from the congregation, I naturally find it hard to speak openly about my spiritual beliefs.

Yet the fact that Dancing Wolf was wearing a wolf skin headdress and I was wearing a cougar skin headdress probably had something to do with the sense of ease I felt around him. We talked of Shamanism, and the power of music and dreams.

He walked back to camp with me, and along the way, we curiously asked a few passersby what their totem animals were. We were oddly pleased to find that most people openly shared theirs with us, and that the rest were simply curious to know what a totem animal was to begin with. There was no ridicule, no resistance, and no awkwardness about it. Naturally, the couple with animal skins on their heads would be the ones to ask such questions.

A few days later, I ran into Dancing Wolf again, this time accompanied by a pretty little lady called Singing Bird. I joined them as they walked to the Temple with a couple of drums, a watermelon, and the knife clipped to my wolverine tail keychain.

At the Temple, I cut up the watermelon into small pieces. We ate about half of it between the three of us, and then handed out the rest to the people meditating and praying within the main tower, beneath the gongs and bells which rang and chimed with the help of automated mallets and drumsticks. Once all the watermelon had been handed out, the three of us sat down in the center of the open-aired room and Dancing Wolf began to play his drum as Singing Bird and I set up a small alter of crystals and feathers and white sage.

Then, we began to sing.

And pretty soon, a few others within the temple joined in. It was haunting and harmonious, and Dancing Wolf's drumbeat was loud and perfectly clear in the still Playa air. The song changed and evolved as we continued, until we were howling and chanting and clapping out hands in time to the music, and many others from the Temple had joined us. One man was even playing violin.

I have no idea how to explain it. The sounds which came from my mouth during the chants and humming were wavering and powerful unlike any other time I've sang. Not even being on stage has drawn such sounds from me and it was beautiful. I felt beautiful. And when our song ended, many people came up to the three of us and touched our shoulders and thanked us.

I had been a part of something which had drawn tears to others' eyes. I had been a part of the magic that had drawn me to Burning Man in the first place. But the magic didn't end there.

Later on, as Dancing Wolf, Singing Bird, and I were walking across the Playa in search of food, Dancing Wolf mentioned that he was craving sushi. "Try to focus on finding sushi. Maybe the Playa will manifest some for us!" he joked.

But as we neared the esplanade, he spotted something on the ground in a little green package, still sealed and undamaged....

It was a box of dried and salted seaweed used for wrapping sushi rolls.

We all smiled and shared it amongst ourselves before parting ways. I didn't see Dancing Wolf or Singing Bird again, but they certainly left a mark on me that I hope will not soon fade.