Did you see us? Did you see someone walk by in a hoop half again their height? Did you try it out yourself? We hope so. We're eMotion camp, friendly Rocky Mountain mammals who believe having fun and once in a while being really outrageously yourself just might save the world. "Where better than Burning Man?" we asked ourselves, and set out for the playa. Driving a thousand miles from Boulder, Colorado to the Hualapai with a packed truck and a ton of PVC strapped to the roof was an adventure in itself, but didn't diminish the thrill of cresting the mountain's shoulder fifteen miles north of Gerlach and seeing a nascent Black Rock City spread out on the playa below us. On Thursday there was still enough open space to make the festival's delineation fuzzy, but with Heady's capable direction we mapped out our space, unpacked, and erected our camp. We live at roughly the same altitude, so were surprised to find how exhausting this work was. Sitting still in that desert, in the shade, with or without clothes it can be completely comfortable -- but driving rebar, wrestling shadecloth, even just the business of unloading and organizing stuff, can wear you down. Once you're all set up, though, grab a beer and a camp chair, sit out front watching the crowd flow by as the sun touches the purple mountains, and you're just this side of heaven. eCycles The main focus of our camp was to build "eCycles", large flat hoops big enough to walk in. (Our creations were universally referred to as "hamster wheels"; that is, when we ripped on commercialism by brandizing ourselves, the BMan culture laughed in our faces. We laughed with it.) We're big on play -- why do people think you should stop when you grow up? -- and wanted to make toys big enough to engage people at a human scale. Building these hoops out of snow fencing and PVC pipe made them light enough not to be dangerous, and we brought enough supplies to make a few. With daily repairs they just about lasted the weekend. Many people came by our camp for a walk or jog out across the playa; many more used them when they were out of our sight, passed from person to person, dropped and picked up, part of the festival independent of their creators. It was heartwarming to come across one far from our camp, pass by a group of people playing with it, watch what creative ways they related to it. Early Sunday morning we walked the entire festival, looking for the ones that hadn't found their way back the night before, feeling like parents in search of wayward children. The Fly Hot Springs I never really understood the resonance the word "oasis" can have until I came over the hill out of the blistering, dry desert and saw the Fly Hot Springs pools nestled in the long grasses. Can you imagine how nice it feels to slip your dried, sunbeaten, tired, naked body into cool, dark, thick water? Reaching down you can scoop up soft mud the color and texture of melted bitter chocolate, smear it on your skin, coat yourself with it. Inside that protective layer your skin softens, relaxes -- joy! When I recovered from that initial reverie I explored the pools, sampling the range of temperatures (in spite of the heat even the hottest ones felt wonderful), playing and talking with the hundreds of other quiet, relaxed people. There's something so deeply, satisfyingly real about being naked with so many people -- without fashion to stratify and separate us we can just be human, in our bodies, in the world, together. Community All of the media referring to BMan as an "anarchic" event either weren't there or somehow missed both the carefully planned infrastructure already in place when the festival started and the spontaneous community feelings and structures that sprang up everywhere. It was a wonderful opportunity to experience firsthand how quickly humans create community when we're not being told to keep our real selves hidden. From the moment we stepped out of our truck, we began meeting the people around us, finding everyone friendly and welcoming. When other camps pulled in to fill the empty spaces around us, we met them with the same feeling. Over the course of the weekend we got to know those people well enough that it really felt like a little village, surrounded by a thousand others like it in one huge desertwide community. Yeah! Rob and Jean were just two of the great people in the large camp next to us. Rob never failed to draw a crowd with the distinctive thud of his potato gun. Media All in all, the media presence was not heavy or invasive enough to interfere with the feelings of safety, freedom, and "otherness" that was created out there. HOWEVER, I believe that a key part of the 'BMan feeling' is the sense of being really far away from everything in the world but Gerlach, Nevada. Having live broadcasts via satellite on the TV and the Web yanks us back into the world of camera-eyes everywhere, constant news, and increasing sameness, which we have begun to feel isn't very healthy. I'm worried that next year some wise-ass will throw up a cell-phone tower close enough that you'll see every fifth bozo talking to their hands instead of being there: "hi, honey, do I have any messages?" Hats (and everything else) off to the women from MSNBC, who overcame the double strikes against them of being both media AND Microsoft-related by naming themselves Media Scum Camp and doing their work wearing little else than body paint. Participation We had originally planned merely to go; eMotion camp came to be largely on the urging of Lizard Man. We're grateful for his friendly push, as being on the esplanade greatly enhanced our sense of participation. Make no mistake: however hard you work to contribute to the creative environment at Burning Man, it will be repaid you with delight in and a sense of responsibility for your experience! Here's a picture of yours truly, all duded up for an afternoon on the playa. We brought lots of raw materials for costumes, but learned quickly how much energy it takes to create things once you're there. Our first year out, we created a theme camp, built big toys for everyone to play with, made costumes, and built community; participation is the lifeblood of this event, and we were completely drawn into it. Next year, we'll be more prepared, and do even better (isn't that what they all say, every year?). We'll see you then.