I’ll admit that when I first read about environmental activists tossing paint on precious Van Goghs, I didn’t get it. Were they commenting on the artistry? Or was it more technical than that. An attack on some obstinate museum curators’ refusal to use picture frames with protective glass? I failed to see their angle. Then again, some didn’t understand Jackson Pollock when he splattered onto the scene. I still don’t get it. However, after seeing the traffic these rebels caused out to Burning Man a couple weeks ago, I think I know what they’re after.
There is lot to disagree with Burning Man. For one thing, why isn’t it Burning Person? For one person, why isn’t it Burning Thing? The endless serpentine line of cars headed out to the desert gave me a fuller sense of the point. You see, traffic is a multi-sensory experience, far more intense than your average psychedelic. I’ve seen God more than a few times while stuck on the BQE. Much like the stylings of Jerry Garcia, it’s called a traffic “jam” for a reason. The standstill should give everyone ample time to learn the best licks for a 10-hour version of Brown-eyed women. For those one their way out of town, the traffic has only gotten worse. Or, if you’re paying attention, gotten better.
Space cowboys should realize that you don’t need to take something special to achieve insight, meaning, or clarity. Sometimes, all you need is to take a wrong turn.
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