May I burn the man at home this year and 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 strut my feathers, leathers, 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 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 hold open house with everyone I meet, embellish us all with fur, goggles, nudity and dust, and allow myself full excitement about who we might be.
May I share shattering rock-bottom truths as casually as tea; as if we were all old lovers with nothing left to prove or improve on, safely settled in the silky oscillation between me and we.
May I see every public space as Center Camp and roll on the ground with strangers, tenderly and with worshipful presence, as we contact one-in-other.
May I love fully, fluidly, everyone who pulls me deeper into living, and release all embarrassment about how my love looks.
Remembering: We are in the desert! We are dusty, unkempt and beautiful! We are mad ones, 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 nakedness is my ticket to this event; past the gate and greeters, to unity and a friendly universe; always honored and gratefully received.
May I notice the installations of genius all around me, the dreams made real in my daily built world, and touch the pregnant possible with both my hands.
May I notice the angel animals who surround me, wearing their beauty and hope, their frailty and unfinishedness, and may I yell out my approval and applaud.
May I participate in the gifting that happens every day, and give smiles, words and hugs that are as comforting in the civilized desert 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 I am supposed to be and lovingly douse it with gas.
May I take my habits, opinions, head noise, timidity and ego-protective arrogance and gently release them to flame.
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 each day, smear it with prayers and tears, and release it in holy smoke.
May I smell it burn and know: That was it. This day was my 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. May I do it all again more generously. May I do it all more goofily. Holding nothing back.
May I do it all again…until my life measures up to the love I feel as I walk, bike or ride an octopus through the eternal, temporary city of dreams where my soul feels at home.