I participated in the Soulmate Trading Outlet at Costco within the Nectar Village at Burning Man ("Bringing top quality soulmates at warehouse prices to the playa since 1998.") It was a really clever way for people to come together and interact in a meaningful way. Whether a true soulmate was the end result was sort of not the point; the “applications” you filled out, the “waiting room” conversations, and the interviews by the members of the camp all figured to be an amazing project in itself and so much fun. One question on my application asked me to tell one of my secrets. I had to think about this. Well, of course I’m not going to give away something too personal and plus, without some prompting I can’t think of anything that would be juicy to a stranger—a secret seems better when you actually know the person and its context. I mean, almost everyone’s cheated or violated a sacred contract, everyone’s lied, stolen, intentionally hurt someone, probably done things they don’t mention but assume everyone else has done, right? (woohoo, how’s that for revealing some of my secrets?!)
But for some reason, a line popped in my mind that didn’t really answer the question, but seemed to qualify as a secret because I think it may be a fact people don’t know about me. Or maybe I just thought it sounded poetic, who knows? But the line that popped in was, “I love the darkness almost as much as the light. ALMOST.” Looking back now, I think it is actually a mantra I could live by. Or have already perhaps.
The key word, of course, is almost. In that word, years of exploration, years of trial and error, years of stubborn naiveté, years of tears and growth and love and a dawning understanding of the texture of my own shadow—in that word, years of learning by crawling around in the dark have been possible. And I wouldn’t trade it. I wouldn’t caution against learning the boundaries of your person, the limitations and edges which you fear to cross. Those places where you feel yourself unnecessarily suspended and outstretched, overextended. It’s important to know your absolute limits, so that you know you’re safe to navigate all the way up to that point without hesitation. There’s confidence and real strength in that.
BUT BUT BUT. But “almost” means that you go close, but you have to love the light more. Have to. “Almost” means that it is imperative to respect that limit. And that’s because the other side is slippery. It is seductive. On the other side of that line, the rules change and a new reason takes over, one that is noticeably incorrect, uncomfortable, but completely unchangeable. You find yourself agreeing to things you hated before and wondering when the promised payoff will appear. You have to keep walking deeper just to get the clarity to walk out…or so you think. 
So you go deeper, and it doesn’t get clearer, it gets darker and more confusing and more twisted. It pulls you with a dense and sticky gravity. In this room, people all seem to be very accommodating, they seem to be holding out exactly what you were looking for when you came in. But then you realize they are holding out their hand to take what they think you can offer them. Suddenly, when you can’t hand them what they need, they don’t trust you at all and turn quickly away, searching for a quicker, more open hand. Hungry ghosts with pinhole mouths and distended stomachs with holes in the bottoms look at you with vacant eyes. It’s dangerous here because trust and loyalty are cheap commodities, traded concepts, a mask people wear to see your hand. Have you seen a cornered animal? Scared, untrusting creatures are dangerous creatures. Eyes dart desperately, including your own…
My friend loves vampires. I personally love choke holds and the beauty of a half-dead visage…have
always loved heroin chic, dark circles, pale skin. I couldn’t tell you why, at least not with any rationality. Something darkly beautiful has always colored my image of death. Well, my friend says she’d like to meet vampires, and I argued against calling them into her life because I’ve met a few and they are not so great to have around, sucking the life from you and all. She wants to meet the ones in Ann Rice’s books she says, because they are so beautiful and interesting. (Yep, that sounds exactly like the ones I’ve met…!)
But the scariest vampire I’ve met is the one inside. It is the Ego. It is driven by a desire for immortality, seducing us away from the nourishing light of the sun; beautiful, interesting, vapid and empty, casting not even a reflection, neither alive nor dead, exactly where your ego would like you…scared and hungry…all the better for pushing you around and feeding it. It whispers that it will take care of you forever; that unlike the rest of the world, you can live forever with no consequence, with no pain, with no hurt or sadness…but the thing to know about Ego is that its only form of communication is deception. It convinces you that your weakness will kill you and calls you into what feels like strength, but is only more darkness.
I believe it’s important to catch a glimpse. We should meet our shadows and welcome them, should recognize those fatal flaws that are actually the beautiful parts about us, provided they don’t exist in excess, wastefully littered about, pushing out the other parts of us. I hope we dabble in darkness, and then get the hell out.
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After my vacation to Burning Man and my visit back to SoCal, I returned to Mt. Madonna and looked around (and it really was “around”, because I live in a dome now!) Standing in my new living space, I had the sensation that I had truly come home. I’m not sure if I've been so content or so clear about my intention to be in a place as I feel right now. I’m generally peering into the distance of time or space, planning my next move, rushing through, or lamenting the loss of a past version of my life. I really miss and love my friends in San Diego—I know we have something special and unique, our own community of music, dance, art; emotional support and intelligent conversation; spontaneity, silliness, and fun. That life is irreplaceable and I’m not comparing because it’s not possible! (And anyway, it still exists.) But sometimes I have loved it too much and have slipped too far inside and I know that too. I have a deep-seated hatred of waste, so I cringe when I see my life and my environment turn to excess and I know I can only hold myself responsible. So, if life at Mt. Madonna had a cheerleading squad, I’d be on it right now. And to clarify for those who’ve asked as well as for myself, here’s why I’d praise it:
uno…a precious quality that allows for growth and facing anything that comes up head-on and with confidence. My dad pointed out that up here, I don’t have much stress. I argued that really it gets quite frenetic and stressful here at times (it really does!), but then he clarified himself and said, no, I mean, you don’t have many worries there. And it’s true. There’s always food, shelter, beauty, and truly supportive people around. It’s abundantly safe. And feeling safe is required for growth.
have interactions with animals in their natural habitat every day and probably a really unique experience once a week or so. A few: I watched a small skunk overpower a big raccoon once, running so fast into the raccoon that the skunk’s tiny back feet came off the ground! And once, while driving just outside the Center gates, a deer literally flew over the hood of my car! He didn’t dent it at all, but left a visible mark in the wet dust across my hood showing his trajectory. Or just the family of wild turkeys—parents and miniature babies in tow—that 
traipsed past my house almost daily in the summer. I like that they remind me that I am sharing my home with other creatures which live totally different lives. I am not watching them in the space we have given them, but instead I am allowed to live in peace in my own life next to theirs…it’s humbling and sweet. It’s community life on the grand scale.
silly, which also happens pretty frequently, usually out of the unprecedented social situations in which we find ourselves here. I mean, you sort of have to make up the rules as you go because you don’t usually have prior experience with people that communicate primarily with a 2x3” chalkboard, or prior work experience with crews that have no idea what they are doing (including yourself) because burying dead foxes just hadn’t entered the work resume until now. It requires that you jump in and do things you aren’t particularly good at (as far as you know), which is really important for me as I get older and more prone to shying away from unfamiliar things and thus becoming rigid.
not the silhouettes of the giant redwoods, it’s the soupy fog lifting, or the curving coastline and the town of Monterey 25 miles away, or the blinding brilliant sunset streaking the sky coral and purple and magenta. Seriously. I feel blessed just walking around.
