No Burning Man?

The possibility has been there, at the back of my mind, for some time now... with our financial situation so bleak, the thought of going to Burning Man has become less likely and more of a dream, one that we just can't afford to realize right now. But to consider resigning myself to the loss is somehow akin to accepting the mourning process, admitting that you are grieving, and allowing yourself the freedom to experience all the shades of devastation and anger and sadness that accompany the absence of this important, wondrous thing...

Yes, I know, I'm talking about Burning Man, not a person. But it feels like so much more than that. It represents my ability to be the true me that is hiding somewhere beneath the layers of motherhood and responsibility and practicality that sometimes threaten to bury me; it's my chance to reconnect with the playfulness and curiosity and adventure that are part of me and still long to burst free; it's my opportunity to belong to a larger community that accepts me no matter what I look or act like or how much I make (or don't make)... and it is probably my last chance to do so for a long time, if ever.

I feel an aching emptiness to think of not being able to go, which frightens me a bit because it seems like such a small thing-- only one week, after all-- but it means so much more than that. It is imbued with so much meaning that it has grown out of all proportion and come to symbolize the place where I can reconnect with my self, re-focus on my purpose in life, re-energize my sense of hope, and revitalize my relationship with my husband. I know I'm reading too much into it at this point, but I can't seem to help myself. It's going to be very difficult to sit this one out-- but I guess this is simply yet another case of setting aside wants in order to meet needs.

It's just that, in my heart, I think that I need this almost as much as I want it...