Tag Archives: sf chronicle

If you’re packing for the playa, a couple quick reads

This one by Mark Morford of the San Fran Chronicle (I recommend subscribing to his weekly column…) is very good.  And then there’s this… for those staying at home, but a reminder to those going, too 🙂

From Aspen Madrone, goddess.  “As I feel you all prepare for the burn, embody the words of Mo Lohaus. may i burn the man at home this year”

may i burn the man at home this year may i finally become a full participant
may i kick the culture 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 contact 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
to 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 on 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
alien ambassadors, superheroes and translucent mermaids
may i call my campmates
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 are 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 giant bunny slippers and hondas 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 wide 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 quirky unique poised artful
equilibrium above the abyss of judgment and may i yell out my approval, and applaud
may i witness the gifting that happens
every moment
the trade 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 him to flame
may i take his habits, opinions, head noise timidity and ego-protective arrogance and 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
and be awestruck by its beauty every day as i smear it with prayers and tears,
and then at dusk
release it in holy smoke
may i smell it burn
and know that that was it: this one day was my whole life and it is over
and if i am blessed to wake once more…
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 is at home
mo lohaus www.lohaus.mobi