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“We are organizing a community around a shared vision of art and whimsy that we can give to the community.”
- Caveat Magister
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A burner's prayer
May I burn the man at home this year
May I finally become a full participant
May I kick the consumption habit cold turkey
And get on with resonating funky genius
And vulnerable enthusiasm
On my own channel, 24/7
May I see every public space as center camp
And roll around on the ground with strangers
Lovingly and with worshipful presence
As we connect one-in-other
May I strut my feathers and leathers
And muppet cape
And naked benevolent childish soul
Everywhere I go
Feeling fully in character
May I trick out my apartment like a theme camp
And invite people in off the street and lavish them with exorbitant gifts
Of presence and affection lovingly prepared
Because I can
Because I am rich and overflowing
And giving is why I am here
May I share shattering rock-bottom truths
With everyone, as casually as tea
Like old lovers with nothing left to prove or improve upon
In the utter safety of the silky oscillation
Between me and we
May I strip the locks off my heart
And hold open house
With everyone I meet on the bus
In line for groceries or at the gas station
Granting them the hallucinated embellishment
Of fur, goggles, nudity and dust
And allowing myself full excitement
And wonder at who they might be
May I look past the surface
And see into everyone
Recognizing pirates and alien ambassadors
Superheroes and translucent mermaids
May I cal my camp-mates
Or show up at their houses
As easily and shamelessly
As I might wander up to their tents
And never need a reason
For pressing my nose on their cheek
Or for flopping on the couch and snuggling
May I love fully, fluidly
Everyone who pulls me deeper into living
And put away any residual shame
About how my love looks
Remembering: we’re in the desert!
Remembering: we’re dusty and unkempt and beautiful
Remembering: we’re mad ones and saints and divas all
And there is no expectation of tidiness
Remembering: there will be grit and friction
There always is
But in the cathartic blessing
Of our meeting and self-discovery
No one notices
Remembering most of all
That my emotional nudity is my ticket to the event
Past the gate and greeters
To unity and a friendly universe
And is always honored and gratefully received
May I hallucinate freely
Seeing Volvos as mobile cupcakes
May I notice the installations
Of genius and wild vision
All about me
May I see the dreams made real
In my daily built world
May I touch the round belly
Of the pregnant possible
With both my hands
May I witness those around me
Strutting their beauty and hope
Their frailty and unfinishedness
And may I yell out my approval, and applaud
May I witness the gifting that happens
Every moment
In the grade of glances, smiles and kind words
That are as quenching and comforting
In this daily wasteland of formality and alienation
As popsicles and mist baths ever were
May I burn the man every day
May I take his idealized ass down
May I take the icon of who I am supposed to be
And gently release her to flame
May I take their her habits, opinions, head noise
Timidity, and ego-protective arrogance
Lovingly douse them with gas
This is my religion
Humbly, devotedly and persistently performed
THAT MAN will BURN.
May I build the Temple every morning
And honor and celebrate
Those who have sung the song of my life
Who have held my life
Like their own dear infant in their arms
May I build the Temple every morning
Be awestruck by its beauty every day
As I smear it with prayers & tears
And then at dusk
Release it in holy smoke
May I smell it burn
And know that was it
This day was my whole life
And it is over
And if I am blessed to wake once more…
May I do it all again
May I do it all again more fiercely, more passionately
More graciously goofily and generously
Until my life measures up
To the love I feel
As I walk, bike, or ride an octopus
Through the eternal city of dreams
In which my soul feels at home.
(Source: https://zadenalove.wordpress.com/2016/10/04/a-burners-prayer-ground-score-poem)
May I burn the man at home this year
May I finally become a full participant
May I kick the consumption habit cold turkey
And get on with resonating funky genius
And vulnerable enthusiasm
On my own channel, 24/7
May I see every public space as center camp
And roll around on the ground with strangers
Lovingly and with worshipful presence
As we connect one-in-other
May I strut my feathers and leathers
And muppet cape
And naked benevolent childish soul
Everywhere I go
Feeling fully in character
May I trick out my apartment like a theme camp
And invite people in off the street and lavish them with exorbitant gifts
Of presence and affection lovingly prepared
Because I can
Because I am rich and overflowing
And giving is why I am here
May I share shattering rock-bottom truths
With everyone, as casually as tea
Like old lovers with nothing left to prove or improve upon
In the utter safety of the silky oscillation
Between me and we
May I strip the locks off my heart
And hold open house
With everyone I meet on the bus
In line for groceries or at the gas station
Granting them the hallucinated embellishment
Of fur, goggles, nudity and dust
And allowing myself full excitement
And wonder at who they might be
May I look past the surface
And see into everyone
Recognizing pirates and alien ambassadors
Superheroes and translucent mermaids
May I cal my camp-mates
Or show up at their houses
As easily and shamelessly
As I might wander up to their tents
And never need a reason
For pressing my nose on their cheek
Or for flopping on the couch and snuggling
May I love fully, fluidly
Everyone who pulls me deeper into living
And put away any residual shame
About how my love looks
Remembering: we’re in the desert!
Remembering: we’re dusty and unkempt and beautiful
Remembering: we’re mad ones and saints and divas all
And there is no expectation of tidiness
Remembering: there will be grit and friction
There always is
But in the cathartic blessing
Of our meeting and self-discovery
No one notices
Remembering most of all
That my emotional nudity is my ticket to the event
Past the gate and greeters
To unity and a friendly universe
And is always honored and gratefully received
May I hallucinate freely
Seeing Volvos as mobile cupcakes
May I notice the installations
Of genius and wild vision
All about me
May I see the dreams made real
In my daily built world
May I touch the round belly
Of the pregnant possible
With both my hands
May I witness those around me
Strutting their beauty and hope
Their frailty and unfinishedness
And may I yell out my approval, and applaud
May I witness the gifting that happens
Every moment
In the grade of glances, smiles and kind words
That are as quenching and comforting
In this daily wasteland of formality and alienation
As popsicles and mist baths ever were
May I burn the man every day
May I take his idealized ass down
May I take the icon of who I am supposed to be
And gently release her to flame
May I take their her habits, opinions, head noise
Timidity, and ego-protective arrogance
Lovingly douse them with gas
This is my religion
Humbly, devotedly and persistently performed
THAT MAN will BURN.
May I build the Temple every morning
And honor and celebrate
Those who have sung the song of my life
Who have held my life
Like their own dear infant in their arms
May I build the Temple every morning
Be awestruck by its beauty every day
As I smear it with prayers & tears
And then at dusk
Release it in holy smoke
May I smell it burn
And know that was it
This day was my whole life
And it is over
And if I am blessed to wake once more…
May I do it all again
May I do it all again more fiercely, more passionately
More graciously goofily and generously
Until my life measures up
To the love I feel
As I walk, bike, or ride an octopus
Through the eternal city of dreams
In which my soul feels at home.
(Source: https://zadenalove.wordpress.com/2016/10/04/a-burners-prayer-ground-score-poem)
