Every year when Burning Man rolls around, the internet lights up. Instagram floods with dust-covered selfies. TikTok explodes with neon costumes, desert storms, and wild art cars. News outlets seize on the most sensational headlines, the Orgy Dome, the drug use, the occasional tragedy. And this year more than ever, I noticed another wave: people calling it satanic, evil, or a hedonistic playground for the lost.
I get it. From the outside, Burning Man is easy to caricature. Drop 70,000 people into a Nevada desert, throw in giant fire-breathing dragons, naked bicycle rides, and yes… an actual Orgy Dome, and it’s not hard to see how people project their fears or fantasies onto it.
But after going 7 times in the last 11 years, here’s what I know: Burning Man is not evil. It’s not holy either. It’s a mirror. And like any mirror, what you see staring back at you depends on what you’re looking for.
How Burning Man Changed Me
When I first went to Burning Man, I was at a turning point in my life. I was chasing achievement, chasing identity, chasing some sense of worthiness outside myself. On the playa, that all cracked open.
There’s something about being in a place where everything you thought was “normal” gets stripped away. Your phone doesn’t work. Your job title doesn’t matter. Nobody cares what car you drove in on or what your bank account looks like. For one week, you’re just another human navigating the dust, the heat, and the endless possibilities.
That rawness did something to me. It opened my heart. It reminded me of how much I was craving connection. Real, authentic, heart-centered connection. It showed me that creativity isn’t something reserved for “artists,” it’s a birthright. Every time I came back from Burning Man, I was buzzing with new ideas, new visions, and new possibilities for what my life could be.
And here’s how I used to describe it: “Every time I come home from the playa I have a little more dust on me.” Not just the physical dust that gets into everything (and trust me, it does). But the dust of the lessons I learned, the shifts in perspective, the lifestyle changes that stuck with me long after I unpacked my bags. That dust became part of me.
In that sense, Burning Man was critical to my development. It was exactly what I needed at that chapter of my life.
The Good, the Bad, and the Dusty
Is there darkness at Burning Man? Of course. Just like in New York, Miami, or your own hometown.
At Burning Man, the darkness is just more visible. The drug overdoses. The status games. The over-the-top “look at me” behavior. The orgies (yes, they happen, but not everyone participates, in fact, most don’t). Put 70,000 people together in any city for a week and someone will die. That doesn’t make the city evil; it makes it human.
But here’s the other side of the mirror: the love. I’ve seen strangers give away food, clothing, shelter, and even deep emotional support at Burning Man. I’ve seen artists pour their souls into creations they’ll burn to the ground at the end of the week, just to remind us of impermanence. I’ve seen hugs that last longer than conversations. I’ve seen magic that can’t be explained.
Both are real. Both exist side by side. And that’s the point.
Burning Man as a Microcosm of Life
Here’s the bigger lesson: Burning Man isn’t unique. It just makes the human condition harder to ignore. In your daily life, the darkness and the light are there too. You just might not notice them as vividly because they’re tucked behind office buildings, suburban streets, or Instagram filters.
The headlines focus on the extreme because that’s what grabs attention. Evil sells. Scandal sells. And so that’s what people think Burning Man “is.” But life isn’t about the headlines. It’s about where you choose to put your attention.
At Burning Man, if you want to see the darkness, you’ll find it. If you want to experience love, generosity, and creativity, you’ll find that too.
And life works the same way. Your focus shapes your reality.
Why I Might Be Done With It
Here’s the honest truth: after 7 trips, I might be done with Burning Man.
Not because I think it’s bad. Not because I’m against it. But because I’ve simply outgrown what it offers me.
At one point, the overstimulation was exactly what I needed. The wild costumes, the endless parties, the sense that “anything is possible” cracked me open. But now? It feels like Disneyland for adults. Fun, flashy, but a little hollow. Too many status games. Too many people trying to be “cool.” Too much of the same stimulation I once found liberating.
Like football, I haven’t cared about a game in 20 years. Burning Man just doesn’t light me up the way it used to. And that’s okay. Experiences run their course.
The Real Work is Everywhere
What I know now is this: you don’t need Burning Man to live fully.
You don’t need a desert, an art car, or a costume. You don’t need a headline-making storm or a spiritual awakening in front of a 70-foot wooden man set ablaze. Those things can be catalysts, sure. But they’re not the source.
The source is you. The source is how you show up in daily life. The real work, the real magic, isn’t in the desert. It’s in how you treat the person next to you at the coffee shop. It’s in the attention you give your family. It’s in how you lead your business, your relationships, and your community.
And here’s the kicker: just like on the playa, life will give you both the darkness and the light. What you feed, what you focus on, is what grows.
Attention Is Creation
If there’s one big takeaway from my years at Burning Man, it’s this: attention is everything.
The world is full of noise. Full of headlines screaming for your fear. Full of distractions trying to steal your time, your energy, your life. If you’re not careful, you’ll spend your whole life reacting to someone else’s narrative instead of creating your own.
Burning Man taught me that my focus is my power. That if I choose to look for beauty, love, and possibility, I’ll find it. And if I choose to obsess over fear and chaos, I’ll find that too. Either way, my life reflects what I put my attention on.
That’s not just a Burning Man lesson. That’s a life lesson.
What’s Next
So where does this leave me?
Probably not back on the playa. Maybe I’ll go again someday, maybe not. But I don’t need Burning Man anymore to remind me of who I am or what’s possible.
Instead, I want to bring those lessons into everyday life. To help more people realize they don’t need a desert or a festival to live fully. They just need to choose where to put their attention.
That’s why I’m launching a new podcast and community in the coming weeks. It’s about living the fullest life possible… right where you are. It’s about cutting through the headlines and distractions and getting back to what really matters: your purpose, your presence, your creation.
So, will you tune in?
Final Thoughts
Burning Man isn’t good or bad. It’s not evil or holy. It’s just a mirror. For me, it was a powerful one at a time I needed it. Now, I’m ready to take the mirror with me and live fully without it.
And maybe that’s the biggest lesson of all: the life you want isn’t out there in the desert. It’s right here. In your choices. In your focus. In how you show up every single day.
With love,
Mike