For some reason, life tends to direct me towards places that bring together mystics, genies and maniacs—and, frankly, sometimes it is hard to tell the difference. This summer I ended up atEuropean Burn in the Danish forest. The extraordinary thing about these gatherings is that there is no unfiied schedule. Instead, everyone is invited to create what they would like to experience.
On the seventh day, a handful of the 100 co-creators designed the context for the goodbye ceremony. It was an unusually cold summer night and although my body was sleepy and drained from the exertions that come with a camping trip, I carried myself to the circle.
At the gate made of torches, a beautiful brunette lady with a 20s-style veil covering her face greeted each of us with a smudging ritual and a mystical spell of words. Once everybody had entered, silence settled into the collective space. For a good while, absolutely nothing happened. In the background, crickets accompanied the awkwardness that sometimes comes with spontaneous co-creation.
Does anybody know what’s happening next? And what would I like to happen next?
After a few moments of silence, a woman started hitting her Shamanic drum, accompanied by a group of people chanting mantras. I hummed along, mesmerized by the powerful play of the fire, feeling its heat creeping up my body. Suddenly, a woman located at the other side of the circle let out a growl and ripped off her dress. The volume of our collective voices intensified. And the awkwardness of before settled into the air again.
Who wrote the draft of this night? Ah, we are writing it together — right now…
More and more people started ripping off their clothes, moaning, grunting, howling. The drum got louder and the tribe danced around the fire, spinning, clomping, jumping. The co-creative field was buzzing.
Then I felt taken by a blunt wave of soul-corroding euphoria. I closed my eyes, and let my body be shaken by the rhythmic pulse of the collective… In this night, gathering one last time around the fire, every single one of us felt emboldened to unshackle the familiar weight of our cultural cage and feel the liberation of uncensored self-expression.
I let my senses absorb the scene that unfolded in front of me: naked bodies glittering in orange light, a curiously harmonious sound orchestra of voices and hot ash falling from the sky like confetti. And then, suddenly, an uncontrollable bout of laughter captured me. I laughed and laughed and laughed… about the bizarre, seemingly unreal movie that played in front of my eyes, the ridiculous play-pretend of the world I grew up in and my own, naive pudency.
Then the drum hit one final clag, our voices dimmed and the sound of heavy breathing took over the scene.
Listening to the silence… we heard everything we didn’t need to articulate with words anymore.
Sane or insane?
Trying to answer this question rationally lost its appeal.
The invisible cage evaporated.
Or, had it ever been there in the first place?
© Belinda Neuhauser 2021-02-12