Musings of a Butterfly

And so it is, with great sadness that I realized some time ago that I will not make it to Black Rock Desert this year for Burning Man . Needless to say, I am extremely depressed, and have been for about a month, when the friend that was saving me a ticket, broke up with his girlfriend of eight years and informed me that the extra ticket apparently got lost in the break up. I have had a particularly hard summer financially and was already contemplating the very real possibility that I wouldn't make it this year, followed shortly thereafter by the announcement that, for the first time in Burning Man's 25 year history, tickets had sold out, and that the amount of people allowed had reached capacity.

I have often wondered what exactly a " Rite of Passage " is. It's not something you think about every moment of every day, right? But it seems my whole life has been somewhat of  a rite of passage. From getting thrown into a "Children's Home" at sixteen back in the outskirts of London, to being thrown into single-mum-hood to two boys at the age of thirty-five in San Francisco. Was I prepared for either "rite"? I don't think so. But it wasn't a choice.