7 “Spiritual” Lessons From My Week at Burning Man – Part I: Waking Up To Love

Adam Gilad
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7 “Spiritual” Lessons From
My Week at Burning Man

Adam Gilad

(This is Part 1 of a 3 Part Series on “Burning Man as Spiritual Teacher” by Adam Gilad. Adam is an Emmy-Nominated producer, author, and leader whose teaches how to awaken through freedom into love.)

PART I: Waking Up To Love

Every now and then, you’ve got to JOLT yourself from your patterns, habits and assumptions.

Or you end up running on inertia.

On habit.

A half-living, a half-sleep of half-consciousness.

Constricted. Self-justifying.

You’ll miss the ride.

And so, if we are serious (or playful!) about this thing we call being alive, we make the effort to shake things up. We travel. We take new classes. We test our edges. We reboot. We find wise and provocative teachers. We have sensual explorations. We discover new corners of our mind and soul with psychedelics. We embrace the silly. We suspend ourselves in the bosom of the sublime.

Well, once a year I do something that encompasses all of these things.

It’s called Burning Man – and in its aggregate, it is a profoundly spiritual kick in the pants.

You can’t adequately describe Burning Man.

You can only experience it.

It is raucous. It is reflective. It is carnivalesque. It is a grim, arid, physical desert challenge. It is an explosion of art and song. It is an earnest annual re-assessment of cultural and economic assumptions. It is a bare-breasted, bare-assed, hallucinogenic-amped dance fest.

And it is a riot of detail…

… a replica of an 18th Century frigate constructed around an inner bus, hosting a dance floor two stories above ground and speakers booming EDM with supersonic thumps…

… giant metallic octopuses spouting whomps of flame upward into the night…

… burly men wearing tutus and women wearing… nothing but desert dust.

It is earnest packed-out Tedx domes and a full daytime schedule of classes on eco-farming, tango, the looming National Security State and how to resist, meditation, authentic dating, tantric sex, juggling, reconciliation with your parents.

Name it. You’ll find it.

It is a party. A petri dish for revelations. It is creativity unleashed. Spontaneity. Serendipity. It is roving tsunamis of music and sudden dance parties. All night miso soup and happy, unexpected trays of chilled champagne, prosciutto and canapés.

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