Lessons from My First Burning Man

A week in the desert changed the way I live and lead. These are the lessons I brought home — about connection, presence, and the courage to let go.

What is Burning Man?

Burning Man is a weeklong gathering in Nevada’s Black Rock Desert where tens of thousands of people come together to build a temporary city devoted to creativity, self-expression, and community. There are no vendors and no spectators. Everyone contributes — through art, music, performance, or pure presence. It’s part festival, part experiment, part spiritual playground.

This year was my first. My Virgin Burn.
And wow — what an experience.

Imagine an adult Disneyland, but better. A place where your senses are on overload and your nervous system hums with nonstop stimulation. Music. Laughter. Dust. Lights. Connection. The heavy bass of electronic dance music echoes through the night. Even at 4:30 a.m., the air vibrates with sound. Between 5 and 6 a.m., there’s a brief stillness, but even then, the hum lingers — a low pulse that feels like it’s inside you rather than around you.

Connection

That’s why I went — to find connection.
To find a version of society built on authenticity, acceptance, and love.

And I did.

I’ve been feeling like the world’s been burning for too long — political division, fear, disconnection. I wanted to see what it might feel like if we chose something different. If we built a community on generosity and shared humanity.

On Tuesday — tutu Tuesday — I biked to a camp that gave away clothing. Everything was free, because everything is free at Burning Man. The only thing you can buy is ice, and that money goes back to support the event itself.

The gifting culture is simple but radical: give without expecting anything in return. Art, food, classes, cocktails, hugs — all gifts. No exchange. No transaction. Just abundance.

The boutique had just closed when I arrived, but two people were sitting outside doing tarot readings. They invited me to join them. We talked, laughed, and took goofy photos — all because we happened to be wearing orange tutus.

In the default world, I probably would have walked past them. Too busy. Too cautious. Too...normal. But at Burning Man, we talked deeply, freely, as if we’d known each other for years.

That moment changed me. I’m trying to carry that forward — to pause, connect, and be fully present.

Yesterday, I spent 45 minutes chatting with a shop owner I’d just met. We connected over our worries about the state of the world. I was honest about my privilege, my sadness, and my hope. That honesty created trust. And it reminded me that connection doesn’t require an event — just intention.

Being Present

Presence is not my strength.
ADHD makes my brain a constant pinball machine — 18 tabs open, bouncing from idea to idea.

At Burning Man, I felt free from responsibility. No one needed me. No deadlines. No noise from the outside world. I hopped on my bike and rode with or without friends, with or without a plan.

We drifted from camp to camp, eating, resting, and talking with strangers. Sometimes we napped on cushions. Sometimes we danced. Sometimes we sat in silence, watching dust swirl in the wind.

I wasn’t thinking about what was next. I wasn’t multitasking my life. I was simply there.

It. Was. Incredible.

Since coming home, I’ve been practicing closing the tabs in my mind. Putting my phone down. Breathing. It’s not easy, but when I manage it, I feel the same deep peace I found in the desert. That shift alone was worth every hardship.

Acceptance

The weather during my Virgin Burn was brutal — dust storms, rain, and concrete-like mud. The media loved it.

Veteran burners said it was the worst weather they’d seen. But I didn’t know any better. To me, it was exhilarating. The 80 mph winds felt like nature’s baptism.

The breakdown they warned me about came on day four — but not because of the dust. It came from kindness.

I’d stopped at a bar where a woman was braiding hair. It was “camp members only,” but she smiled and offered to braid mine anyway. The women around her — younger than me, open and warm — shared conditioner, stories, laughter. One told me she was a widow. We connected in our grief, our womanhood, our humanness.

They accepted me without hesitation. That’s rare for me. I’ve spent much of my life feeling like I don’t quite belong with other women. But in that moment, I did.

They made me feel good enough. And for the first time, I believed it.

Even more surprising — I let myself stay. Normally, I would have rushed back to help my camp, but I didn’t. I said, “Fuck it. I matter. I choose me.”

And the world didn’t end.
When I returned, my campmates celebrated my story. They saw the transformation. So did I.

Letting Go

I’m type A. A planner. A worrier.
But Burning Man has no room for control.

I arrived with a color-coded event schedule. I attended exactly two things on it. Because at Burning Man, you don’t plan — you follow the pull of the moment.

There’s no cell service. No news cycle. No inbox. The world carries on without you.

I couldn’t control the weather, the noise, the dust, the mud, or my broken phone. My tent was a disaster. My hair was filthy. I didn’t care.

I didn’t check email. I didn’t scroll the news. I didn’t plan the next day.
I just lived.

Ate. Slept. Talked. Rode. Napped.
Glorious.

When I came home, life was still waiting — messy, beautiful, imperfect. But its grip on me had loosened.

Now, when stress creeps in, I close my eyes and picture that morning on the perimeter road — the quiet one few burners ever find. I can feel the cool desert air, the solitude, the peace.

Burning Man was life-changing.
Not in the way I expected, but in the way I most needed.

Summary

You may have heard many myths about what happens at Burning Man or the idea of camping in the heat of the desert for a week might be unappealing.

But if you are looking for a deep dive into:

connecting with others, being present
feeling a sense of acceptance and belonging
letting go of stress
complete freedom
a break from responsibility and technology

Then it might be just the experience you need.

Follow me @drheatherengland on social media for more insights on creating your best midlife