Heavy construction on the playa is the ultimate yang. Battling the forces of nature requires strength, stamina, and skill. Seemingly small errors can be life-threatening.

When the heavy construction is done, I am transformed overnight. I become welcoming, nurturing, and accommodating. I am a pure conduit for the love of the mother goddess. I focus my energies on transforming Totem residents, entraining them in the growing collective Totem consciousness.

Then, when everyone at Totem is feeling comfortable and inspired, we all turn outward to welcome and nurture our visitors.

My experience of the festival is a whirlwind. Memorable moments stand out in freeze-frame clarity. The bizarre becomes commonplace. People everywhere are stripped naked and become luminous. Lifelong ruts fill with desert dust and can't be found. New behavior patterns form and are etched into our souls. Personal boundaries fade as we melt together and join the cosmic dance of destruction and rebirth.

Then, suddenly, all our visitors have gone. The temples have all been burned. The festival is over.

We have a day or two to focus on each other, and bask in the afterglow of a bountiful harvest. But this too must end. My joyous friends depart, always too soon.

If I could, I'd bask eternally in the beautiful collective Totem spirit we created. But the cold winds begin to blow. They scatter that spirit beyond my reach. The playa begins to feel empty.

How can one feel so much joy, and not mourn its sudden demise? How can one count the tears of joy, or keep them in a separate cup?

I cork up another cask-full of powerful emotions, and roll it down into the cellars of my imagination to age. There will be time aplenty in years to come to tap those memories, and to sip their well-aged nectar in the company of dear old friends.

There's still a big mess to clean up. Our small but spunky teardown crew throw themselves into the work at hand and slog through it.

Finally, teardown is complete. We're off the playa and headed home.

Now, I'm faced with the emotional equivalent of winter. I feel quiet, peaceful, and satisfied. In the coming months, I'll hunker down, rebuild my strength, and begin making plans for a bright new Spring.