Whenever I talk to someone about my experience at Burning Man a few years ago, I inevitably end up telling the story of how I was a bit of a Burning Man nerd.  Despite a number of opportunities to participate in various hallucinogenic activities, I always made Nancy Reagan proud and just said no.  I couldn’t imagine adding to the sensory overload I was already enjoying, and I also knew that because of my complete lack of experience with said hallucinogenic activities there was a not so slim chance I just might freak out.  So I was the oddball in numerous instances where everyone around me was on some kind of something, and I remained blissfully sober the entire time.

I never thought much of this, but when I shared this story with my friend Nancy, her immediate response was something along the lines of how my upbringing must have had some kind of indelible positive impact that enabled me to laugh off the temptations of one of the world’s biggest exercises in the art of freeing one’s mind.  Since then I have felt so thankful for her observation, because I don’t think I would have made that connection on my own, and she is absolutely right.  Through all of the challenges and frustrations I presented my mom with as a kid, she managed to teach me to be my own person and forge my own path.  I never felt like I was making any kind of statement or taking some superior high road at Burning Man, I simply had no desire to miss out on any instance of what I was experiencing there.  It wasn’t about anything more than doing what I knew was best for myself.  And I have my mom to thank for giving me that strength.

My mom wanted to learn to play the banjo and she did it.  She wanted to write songs and organized a songwriter’s organization for the southeastern United States.  When I was born and she wanted a cloth diaper service, they told her they needed more customers in our neighborhood to make it worth their while, so she went knocking door to door and made it happen.  My mom has had heartbreaks and tragedies, yet still has the same glowing smile that helped her win a Doris Day look alike contest when she was in her 20s.  She took me to the emergency room I don’t know how many times because of my tomboyish mishaps, carted me to gymnastics, remained very calm every time she busted me for having parties at the house and helped me hang my very first art show in Santa Monica. 

She also wrote and published a book, and is featured in the Alexandria Times this week because of it.

I will risk presenting myself as a complete wanker here, but I admit that in the beginning when my mom first started talking about publishing her book, all kinds of overly-rational thoughts filled my brain.  How will the book be marketed?  Does it make financial sense?  What about distribution? 

Being supportive on the outside and slightly skeptical in my tiny muddled brain.

Since then, it is as if I have watched the sun rise for the first time, and I have been given a terribly precious reminder that dreams aren’t about marketing, distribution and the bottom line.   They are about running wildly toward a cliff and leaping off, only to discover there was no cliff, but a jumping off point that leads somewhere higher and shows the way for other dream-seekers around the world.  Through her book, my mom is inspiring everyone who knows her – and many who don’t – and most importantly, she is having a great time.

I cannot imagine writing a novel; anytime the thought occurs to me that perhaps I have some kind of story brewing inside me (don’t we all think this?) I get immediately overwhelmed and throw the idea out as quickly as possible.  To sit down day after day and assemble a million puzzle pieces to form a beautiful picture and then go through all the steps to make it available for the rest of the world to enjoy is no easy feat.  To say I am proud of my mom is an understatement; I am proud of what she has done, I am proud of the lessons she has taught me, and I am humbled by the fact that as much of a smarty pants as I sometimes think I am, there are always many wonderful spaces to explore where I can learn valuable lessons, even lessons I continue to learn over and over again throughout my life.  To experience one of those spaces that was created by my very own mom is like that first bite of a warm apple pie with the ice cream melting down the sides, so exquisitely delicious and filled with thoughts of home and family.

I still have so much to learn, and I thank my mom for continuing to teach me, for continuing to remind me of what is most important in this world.

Now go buy her book.