Camping is not my favorite activity. I hate the bugs. And the dirt. And the inconvenient restroom facilities. Believe me, if I was a woman of sufficient means, I would be vacationing in a penthouse somewhere, or maybe an Italian villa. But I digress...
This weekend was a kind of trial run for me: I got out my tent and checked to make sure all the pieces parts were still in place for Burning Man next week (yay!). I have discovered that I will endure any amount of discomfort and inconvenience for Art. As the sages say, Art is Life; what else is there to live for?
And camping does have its moments. Moments like when the full moon comes out from behind the trees late at night and turns a meadow to silver. Moments like that.
And at moments like that, something deep inside, something small and dark and tangled, untwists itself, and suddenly you find you can let go of that breath you didn't even know you were holding and just...
Breathe.
14 Days til the Burn!
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