Lessons on Tragic Optimism from Burning Man
I got walloped three different ways in the desert, and couldn't be happier
Photo: A selfie in the Artery where I spent 3 weeks working with art teams
I went to Burning Man this year, for the 10th time. I first went in 2001 as a participant, and now I work the event with the amazing staff. In my work, I support artists both logistically and from a Coaching position to aid them in creating large-scale installations that require up to and often more than a year of project management and planning.
Maybe you read the news. We got hammered with rain. The desert became a lake. We sheltered in place. We ate only the food we brought. Since we couldn’t drive and couldn’t even leave our tents some days, we relied on friends and neighbors for the things we needed.
That’s not even the biggest hardship I faced out there. What the news didn’t report is that for those on staff who arrived a week or more before the event, that storm was our second storm. Hurricane Hilary walloped us about ten days prior. Same restrictions. Same confinement.
Oh, and just wait. There’s more.
During that second storm, I also developed a mysterious stomach/rib pain. It was the most painful feeling I’ve had in my life. I thought I was having a heart attack. I went to emergency services three times. EKG was normal. The ultrasound was all good. We tried various very strong versions of medications for various guesses. Some helped. Some.
Before you worry I did get checked out at home, got ulcer meds and am 100% back to normal.
And my honest reflection: I had an incredible time
In that time when I was confined I saw friends/coworkers step up for me in ways I had hoped to never need. They brought me food, drink, a massage gun, whatever I needed. Folks I knew on staff brought me their meds and yes a big bottle of pepto bismol. One of my artists even went back to his camp and returned with meds that did also help. I felt no judgment and was well taken care of.
I’m not unusual because I don’t love asking for help. I don’t want to be a burden. And beyond that, I’ll often wave off sincere offers of assistance.
But then I needed it. And had to accept it. And I got way more than food and drink and medicine. I got very clear on how powerful tragic optimism is as a tool for moving forward.
I’ve always considered myself a pessimistic optimist. Hope for the best, plan for the worst. It’s gotten me through or at least prepared me for some of my larger-scale disappointments.
But more and more I’m discovering the motivational and healing practice of tragic optimism.
Tragic optimism in practice is a more grounded and integrated approach, in contrast to toxic positivity. Where “positive thinking” encourages essentially to ignore negative realities and “just think positive,” I see this as an essentially privileged option. Because sometimes life circumstances don’t allow you to simply ignore the uncomfortable parts.
It’s those uncomfortable moments that allow us to grow and be even better on the other side IF we accept, allow, and sit with the discomfort.
Where tragic optimism comes in is while you’re sitting with whatever bad thing is happening, you ask “What choices are available to me now? What could I create with my current skills and environment?”
Maybe that choice is accepting help, doing a smaller version of a failed project, or learning a new skill. There is always a choice, even if those choices are limited.
And the most basic choice we have is our mindset. If you read Seneca, Aurelius, or any of the Stoics, this is at the core of their teachings.
In the desert in the rain and in pain, and a myriad of other things that I’ll refrain from delving into, I had a moment where this became clear.
This is just what’s happening now.
What are my options for what to do now, or next?
For me, that looked a lot like resting and watching downloaded Netflix shows. Which was fine! And accepting help. Which it turns out was also fine. All my worries about disappointing people evaporated when the generosity and kindness of my campmates showed up consistently and without judgment. You know who you are and you have my gratitude for much more than you thought you were giving.
This was a learning moment for me and has served me already in the days since. Just today I was recording a testimonial with a student from my Unleash Creativity club. At the end, I was sharing how I’d re-learn video editing to make the final video and then I realized I was talking to a graphic designer and video creator.
Then I did something I used to never do if I could do it myself, and probably wouldn’t if I hadn’t been forced to at Burning Man: I asked if he’d be willing to help.
He said yes.
I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, and excitement builds for what I’ll do in the hours I’m not spending on that video. No shame, no guilt. Just excitement and relief.
As a Coach, this is the place to which I get my clients. It’s a place where you realize that saying yes and getting support isn’t about your weakness, it’s about your strength. Strong relationships, a strong sense of self-worth, and a strong sense that, as one of my Coaches would say, you alone can do it but you can’t do it alone.
I’m confident that I will be able to serve my clients even more powerfully with these lessons and a new sense of ease. I’ve seen it already.
So thanks, Burning Man. I got way more than I bargained for and I am so grateful.
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I lived in Willamsburg in the 80's when it was heroin central - my it's changed...Thanks for the Bell Hooks recommendation , will get. and btw this is LadyBee - burning man's archivist. I saw your article in Slack and shared it with the BM News channel. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!
Beautifully written! Thank you for going out on a limb and writing this; humans are still suffering from outdated gender norms. As a woman, i always aks strangers for directions to places we can't find; my husband never does that. Why? because, at least when I grew up in 50' s and 60's, women were considered helpless so were expected to ask for help. Men were considered all knowing, and were taught not to ask for help lest they appear weak. DItto for crying - fine for women, a no no for men. What a crock! I"m so glad we're starting to confront toxic masculinity and send it packing. Everyone benefits!