Episode 81:So Long, Larry

We step away from the normal format of the show in order to hold space for the passing of Larry Harvey. Burner Podcast team members Navjeet Sarna and Tori Massie join Arash to read messages and stories written to and about The Man in the Hat. 

 

Listen on iTunes, Stitcher, TuneIn Radio, iHeart Radio, Mixcloud or SoundCloud. 

 

 

 

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Lynn Marie Morski...

I attended my first burn amid much strife in my capoeira life. I had wanted to play in the orchestra that leads the capoeira games, but my low status in the group prevented me from doing so. In capoeira,` your cord (belt) color is a rank like other martial arts, and only the higher cords were allowed to play instruments.

But not on the playa. I went to a capoeira class my first day and there were no cords, no hierarchy. When it came time to play, I asked who was going to lead the orchestra. They said whomever could lead...

So *I* led. For the first time ever. And I've never looked back.
Thanks, Larry, for creating a hierarchy-less paradise for me to find my strength and my home in the orchestra.

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Arthur Mamou-Mani...

Larry Harvey - you are in our thoughts. The Temple 2018 will be here for you and for the community that you have so deeply inspired and changed for the better.

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Amy Vogler….

The result of your little beach bonfire party has changed the course of my life in so many aspects, and exposed me to more love, compassion, & creativity than I thought possible; within the community, and within myself. Thanks for your participation!

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Kat Ripley….

R.I.P. Larry Harvey Thank you so much for all you have done for humanity. I think it would be impossible to overstate the positive impact you made across the globe. I don’t know if I can make one one hundredth of an impact on this world as you have, but I promise I will try.

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Absinthia Vermut….

I first remember Larry when I was still at Burning Man, two days after the Man burned in 1995. I celebrated my 25th birthday on playa, fell madly in love with Burning Man, and I stayed to clean up. I just couldn't leave! A year earlier, I had moved to San Francisco, a dream I had since I first visited as a young girl. I never dreamed I would find something like Burning Man in an incredible location like Black Rock Desert, but there I was. Home.

Two years later, I remember Larry pulling my then boyfriend, Paul Addis, and me into a meeting late one night on Hualapai Playa. We were there with maybe two dozen others as he explained that the sheriff had relieved the gate of its cash, and he needed us to walk around and collect cash donations from participants. Of course, we did. He offered me a lifetime ticket to Burning Man for $500. I was a starving artist and couldn’t afford it, but more importantly, I thought it was a terrible idea and a huge waste of money. There was no way this thing would continue! Turns out Larry was as much of a pitbull with Burning Man as I have been with my absinthe.

That was right around the time I started bootlegging absinthe, and Larry was a huge fan, perhaps my biggest. Since his passing, a friend told me that there was a night when Larry, Flash, and Peter were craving absinthe and set out into Black Rock City to find some. To find me. As they wandered through camps asking if Absinthia was camped there, they left a trail of participants asking, “Was that….Larry Harvey?”

I have memories of him at the Anon Salons, holding court with a neon green glass in his hand. One memory in particular stands out, where he had five glasses and was quite belligerent. Marian was there and while she was annoyed by his behavior, we also found it hilarious and endearing. A performer named Magenta was there that night and met him on that fifth glass of absinthe, and then wowed us all by spinning in circles with a knife on her scarved head.

I once witnessed Larry managing his fame. I was in first camp and saw him on the poop deck. I walked up to say hello, and he said a very formal “Yes, hello” without looking up. A moment later, he did and caught my eye, “OH! Hello dear, how are you?” It was clear that he heard “Hello Larry” often from people he didn’t know. It was interesting to be treated like a stranger and then recognized by a man whom everyone knew. Ah, playa celebrity. But of course, he was more than that. So much more. The moment made me stop and think what it must be like to walk through Black Rock City as Larry Harvey. Have you ever thought about that?

The last time I saw Larry was burn night 2017. I was walking back from the burn to Marian’s absinthe bar to serve my absinthe, my burn night tradition. I had just witnessed a man dive into the fire, and I was completely shell shocked. I remember telling Larry this, and he, too, seemed shell shocked. We didn’t have that nice warm welcome that we usually have. It was too intense of an evening for us all.

My favorite story of Larry occured burn night in 2015. I arrived at Marian’s pop up absinthe bar, and no one was around. I found a black baseball cap that said, MEOW, in the bar, and put that on without a second thought. I wandered over to first camp to drum up some interest. I walked in, and Larry caught my eye and gave me a huge smile. Now, Larry had never ever flirted with me before, he was always like an uncle to me, my crazy Uncle Larry, but on this night, I was dressed as Marian, with an all black outfit, a long blonde wig, and the last minute addition of the MEOW hat. Perhaps the only night I have ever not worn green on playa, I was Absinthia dressed as Marian serving Absinthia’s absinthe in Marian’s pop up bar. Larry didn’t leave my side all night. He escorted me back to the bar and I served him and many others absinthe that evening. A lot of absinthe. I said, “MEOW” a lot; what else does one say when they are mimicking Maid Marian? Larry told the story of how he had almost been arrested earlier that night during the burn. The Man was taking forever to burn, and Larry was getting worried. He also wasn’t wearing his Hat - I had witnessed him toss it into the crowd at the GLC a few years prior. He just wasn’t as recognizable without it, and beneath the slowly burning Man, a young LEO, as Larry described him, stopped him and asked him what he was doing so close to the Man, with people lying on the ground nearby watching it burn. “I am worried about it falling,” Larry said.
“Well, that is not your concern. Get out of this area.”
“Listen, son…” Larry started to say.
“Son? Don’t you condescend to me! Now leave this area before I have you arrested and taken away!”
Larry loved this story and told it several times that evening.

We continued drinking absinthe, talking about such things as what to do about the Plug and Play camps, Larry sharing his ideas about building small Temples in the keyholes, and more. When the evening wore down and we all had more than enough absinthe, Larry offered to drive me, still dressed as Marian, home. I was all the way out in Illumination Village at 3 o’clock and A that year, and welcomed the ride.

Larry spent about ten minutes debating with himself whether or not to drive his golf cart or his Jeep, and in the end, the Jeep won. He tried to unlock the door with his key, and I had to hold his arm to help him get the key in the lock. I went around and got in the passenger side to see him put a half full glass of absinthe in the cup holder!

“Larry! You are driving me home with a glass of absinthe in the cup holder?”

“Of course I am, dear, now let’s get going.”

He drove out onto the playa and headed to my camp.

“OMG LARRY that is a piece of art!” I hollered when a big something jumped out in front of the car. He slowed down and narrowly missed it. When found my camp, he seemed determined to drive me all the way to my door. Now, IllVille is home to a lot of fire art, which means there are propane tanks, gas lines, and art everywhere. A bad place for anyone to drive, but like I said, he really wanted to drive me to my door. We got to a spot where he had to stop, and I jumped out before he could drive any further into dangerous fire art, grabbed my case of absinthe, and gave him a big hug. I told him I loved him. He seemed embarrassed, and turned his Jeep around and drove home.

Thank you, Larry. You created a world I never dreamt I would find. Thanks to you, I found my Island of Misfit Toys and a place where I belong. I came to the playa a shy photographer, hiding behind my camera, and there I found my dreams, my crazy absinthe induced green fairy dreams, and I made them a reality. I am a different person now. We all are.

Like all of us, you are flawed, you are human, you are loved. You and your friends gave us the landscape to make magic happen. You left one hell of a trace, my friend.
Cheers,

Absinthia Vermut

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Rebekah Waites...

I only met him a few times so don’t really have any stories. I just know that he loved Church Trap and talked about it in interviews. Found out after that he carried a picture of it in his journal. Finding that out meant a lot to me. Only story I have was one on his bday at a party at Headquarters. I didn’t know anyone and am a bit shy. Jennifer Raiser invited me and when i got there told me to go say hi to Larry. When I tried to introduce myself he snapped “I just woke up.” So i ran away. Haha! When Jennifer asked me later if I said hi to him, I said I tried to but it didn’t go over very well. So she told me to go say hi again. This time I caught him in the line for tacos and started to say who I was. His response: “who???!” “Larry... it’s me. Rebekah. Rebekah Waites who did Church Trap.” Aaaaaaaand then I got the biggest hug from Larry and we talked for a moment. It was awesome. I’ll never forget that.

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Danielle White...

Larry Harvey passed into his next journey. Thank you for the amazing growth, change and experience that this incarnation brought to my life. I am eternally grateful. 🦄🙏 One thing that has stuck with me, many years ago I went to a speaking engagement. He was getting lost of questions about all the “rules” His response was “It’s amazing how your thought process changes when you are responsible for people’s lives.” Im not sure why but I’ve thought on that moment many times.

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Sonya Sophia...

This man's love has changed the world. He changed my world. He changed the lives of millions forever with his dedication to art, freedom, radical self-reliance and community. This pic was taken exactly a month ago at the Smithsonian’s Burning Man exhibit. The golden beam like an accidental foreshadow of him beginning his flight home a few days later and arriving in the infinite today.

Thank you, Larry Harvey, for making this world a better, brighter and more beautiful place. I’m so grateful to you. We all are.

From where you are now I know you can finally see what a gift you have given us. May we make you proud by how we keep the fire burning. )’(

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Halcyon...

I am no Larry disciple.

I have not studied his writings or made stained glass of his image.

My reflections are mostly my own projections.

But the role he played in my life is profound. His legacy has influenced me more than Jesus.

We met half a dozen times over the last 20 years.

It was only our last encounter, over a meal at Esalen in 2016 that he indicated he knew who I was.

Before that, I always felt that I was a bit of a nuisance. Just another fan eager for a selfie and an “I met Larry” story.

But it didn’t bother me. Larry didn’t ask to be the mascot of Burning Man. He was always gracious and I was grateful for the brief moments of his time. My gratitude required no reciprocity.

I was especially happy that I was able to give him a patented “Dirty Vibrating Hug” in 2002. (It involves pouding on the recipient’s back with huge, fur-covered foam wrist cuffs while pressing against the person’s crotch with a vibrating jockstrap. See 1st comment.) I was soaring with pride when he grinned and said, ‘Now that was something!” when I released him from the hug.

My favorite Larry story was the previous year when I was asked to be in a photo shoot with him for the image above. While waiting for the photographer to set up, a woman stormed in the camp holding the “Who? What? Where?” Guidebook. She was looking for Larry Harvey and looked pissed. She explained that she had hiked all the way across the city to visit a camp that publicized a pancake breakfast. Only to discover that when she arrived at the destination, that their camp was empty.

Larry took a drag from his cigarette.

“You walked allllll the way across the playa?”

“Yes!”

And when you got there, there wasn’t anybody even there?

“No!”

Larry took another drag. “You didn’t see anything good along the way?”

He was inspiring not because he rallied the community to follow him. But instead role-modeled a fierce personal authenticity in the face of cultural expectations. He was a reluctant leader who always seemed a little surprised that people were listening to him. Maybe he even had a trace of disdain for followers of any kind, even those who followed him. He was like the Zen master who sends away the student who comes looking for a guru. He would share his thoughts, but not take responsibility for Burning Man. He was fierce and humble and didn’t take any of it too seriously.

I’ve seen several people post this week, “RIP Larry. Burning Man will never be the same.”

I think that statement would have made Larry snarl. It’s totally off-base. Yes, Larry started the fire & penned the Principles. With many passionate people, he helped create the container. But this blaze rages independently of any person or group.

As Burners, we don’t follow through on the vision of Larry. We step into the established space and then all make Burning Man what it is. This model of leadership and community is one of the most powerful things I’ve learned from Burning Man. Black Rock City doesn’t look a certain way. It invites Radical Self Expression and trusts that, when balanced with Civic Responsibility and the other Principles, everything will work out.

For me and so many others, it has worked out in ways that have drastically shaped my entire life - not shaped from any external script...but allowed my inner truth to take shape authentically.

Each year, we burn the Man.

Each year we celebrate the transitory nature of all things.

Each year we remind ourselves of how impermanent and precious everything is.

Your life was art, Larry. A perfect Playa performance.

Your physical form may become ashes, but the ripples of your art have changed the world forever.

I have no doubt you saw plenty of good stuff along the way.

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Zac Cirivello...

I'll miss this guy a lot. Also, this shirt is in my closet.

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Anael.....

I believe Larry had a yearning. A calling we all share in our hearts. A craving for expression. For love. For freedom. His blessing was his curse. That pain brought him to a point of surrender where he gave in and created a space for this expression to be fulfilled. Something that so many of us crave for was born and continues to grow across the world beyond anyone’s expectation. The birth of a new culture which now influences the world. As a modern world we have lost our rituals and our pilgrimage. We have lost touch with our connection to each other in pursuit of personal gains. Thanks to Larry we have an avenue to give and share our love and our hearts. Now it’s up to us to continue the work and spread the message.

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John Simmons...

For the last 12 years I would meet with Larry at first camp on Sunday after burn night we would talk about all Things BM. That meeting would usually be around 2 or 3 pm. Would last an hour or so. Sometimes I would bring a quest.  Larry was the one who encouraged me to become a regional when the split the southern California region. At first I did not want to because I wanted to create Maham from the outside. He said I could be more effective doing that from the inside out. Our meetings for the last 6 years since I became a regional took on a whole new perspective.  I will miss my friend and mentor.

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Charlie Dayburn....

Without you and Burning Man, my life path might probably be still pretty miserable. My first burn was 2011. At this burn, I met my heart for the very first time and everything goes banana after that. Since then, I discovered my connection to the true beauty of sunrises. I have never missed one in 7 years. I discovered my hidden potential as a composer and my inner superhero avatar Dayburn at 2013. My father's photo was burned with the temple at 2016. I made my decision to become a life coach at 2017. Many monumental life decisions and self discoveries were all made at Burning Man. I had my last glimpse of you last year at the Man's Opening Ceremony which I was the composer. It's almost too hard to believe I could be serving this part for the Man. This year, I will dedicate my 5th annual sunrise assembly to you. Without you and Burning Man, there will be none of these created. Thank you, Larry. I am forever owe my deepest gratitude to you.

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Liz Devin...

Larry's impact in my life is that I have seen and know anything is possible. We can do better, together. We can be better, together. Judgement is a dead end road. Acceptance, inclusivity, love and expression of love is where it's at. Larry's legacy is astounding and will continue to change the world for the better into eternity. I'm so saddened to hear the news about Larry's passing but I know he had a very full life and was loved by so many. Rest in peace brother.

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Jerry James...

Around 1985 Larry Harvey and I became best friends. He was as lost and confused as I was. Young and full of energy, and scared to death I looked to him hoping to find assurance and truth. He had a good rap, combining concepts from all kinds of stuff like Freud, Emson and Joseph Conrad. He and I read Nostromo along with some other friends. I’d have been reading Celine, Bukowski, and playing Bob Marley and Captain Beefheart. We met through Dan Richman who sometimes had people over to play music, get high, and get laid.

Larry was working as a gardener for Edgewood, a health care institution, and I was a carpenter. We both had young sons. We’d take them out for hikes-had some laughs. The oft-referenced unsuccessful relationship from which he was allegedly recovering was with someone named Paula. I was living, off-and-on, with Maria Majeski in Bernal Heights, San Francisco, he in a large apartment building in Alamo Square with his roommate, Dan Miller. I also had a 12-year-old son, Jeremy, in Boise from where I’d relocated in 1980. Larry’s from Portland originally.

At that point of my life I had the unfortunate tendency to adopt certain friends who I considered strong male figures as father figures. I did this with Larry. He read a lot and expressed ideas with confidence. To me this translated as strength. So, I looked up to him and sometimes mimicked him. I had a lot of strengths and many weaknesses. Admiring (and trusting) Larry was a weakness that would take its toll.

Larry had been reading the Golden Bough, an anthropological work that references the history of burning human effigies. He had also attended, in previous years, events at Baker Beach that included burning a variety of objects.

I’m not sure why Larry didn’t continue those beach traditions with the others but when he asked if I wanted to build an effigy and burn it for the summer solstice, my response was-why not?

June 20, 1986. Earlier that day Larry and I had spent a couple of hours in Ellen Into’s (Flash’s mother-in-law) garage in Noe Valley tacking some wood scraps into a crude figure-the first Burning Man. It only took us a couple of hours to craft the figure, about ten feet tall. I stapled burlap inside to approximate skin and provide kindling. We grabbed our girlfriends and kids, invited a couple of more folks and headed to the beach. Arriving at Baker Beach, there were about ten of us including our girlfriends and kids. We parked in the lot and started down the beach. Coincidentally, we passed Dan Richman leaving as we made our way down the quarter mile of sand to the north end of the beach. We said hi but nobody stopped. You’re very lucky if you get a sunny sunset at the beach in San Francisco, especially on the summer solstice so it was high just to be there with the waves crashing, and sun on our backs as we walked straight toward the Golden Gate Bridge above us.

Being a typical San Francisco afternoon, the modest sunlight was soon overtaken by foggy breeze. Arriving at the end of the beach I planted the Man in the sand. We shared a few drinks and laughs, and as the sun set I doused the figure with a gallon of gasoline and added fire. It burned furiously-it was, after all, gasoline. The handful of strangers in the vicinity joined us. One had a tambourine and started chanting something like, “burn fire, burn,” which, though on the one hand embarrassing, somehow suggested that there was something special about this modest incendiary sacrifice. It burned quickly and we left soon after.

Inspired by the event, we spoke of it later, and again from time to time over the following year. We decided to repeat it when the next solstice rolled around.

 

1987. That’s when Maria and I were living in a worn-out mansion on Capp Street with three roommates. It was a groovy, big place with a couple of fireplaces. There had to be some lost stories behind it. I built the second Burning Man on the back deck. It was an awesome, open space. Sunny, framed by exterior walls but felt warm and free. This time it was about 12 feet tall. Larry helped with embellishing its head. It being still a pretty modest assembly, I spent a couple of weekends building it. This time we spread the word so there were about 35 friends and acquaintances at Baker Beach for another cold night and burning of the Man. It was quite similar to the year before.

 

1988. Then came the watershed. To this point the Burning Man had been a family picnic. It was about to become a public event. In 1988 the Man was built at a garage I rented for my construction company on Duboce Street across for Ralph K. Davies Medical Center. Three of us worked the entire weekend for several months designing and building this 30’ tall figure-Mike Acker, Larry, and I. This was to be more than a friendly little statue. At this size the figure would require true structural integrity. The design would be further challenged by the fact that in order to fit into the shop where it was being constructed, and to be able to be transported to the beach and erected, it would have to be built in modules. I provided the design required for the structure and modules. Regarding its appearance, it was Larry’s idea the year before to use the end-mitered, wood-brackets-on-axis, as the primary design motif. He, Mike and I collaborated on its appearance. I built the Man with help from Mike. Larry tinkered. Larry’s  carpenter skills were limited. I built the Man in component parts-legs, torso, body, arms, and the head.

It was around this time we began referring to the figure and event as the Burning Man. I still have the poster Maria produced that year bearing that title.

For the most part I had little luck enlisting my builder buddies to help until it came to the day to transport, assemble, and then burn the Man. They then provided assistance that was absolutely necessary. After a couple hours of carrying the components from the trucks to the beach and then assembling them we were ready for ignition. With our backs to the cliffs and the Pacific roaring in front of we prepared to pull the Burning Man from lying on it’s back to standing. Relying on a block-and-fall whose stake failed on the first attempt to raise him, we nearly impaled the crowd who’d volunteered to lift him. On the next attempt we depended solely on manual labor. With many pulling on a rope tied to his solar plexis and many others lifting his shoulders as his feet sunk into holes in the sand the Man was raised! What transcendence-it was breathtaking!

We’d considered that the authorities might take an interest in the immolation of such a thing especially given that we were on a beach in the US Army’s Presidio base. We’d never asked for permission.

Somewhere in this scramble a reporter from San Francisco Focus magazine approached me. I said I was too busy for an interview but gave him information to follow up later.

There was a guy banging a gong, some others blowing horns and we started the fire. Being another cold, windy night in SF, the burlap, newspaper and kerosene, being the body of and kindling for the Man, burned up and blew away. We were left with a rather large, charred figure and we were uncertain how to proceed. I tried starting a campfire at his foot. Someone else climbed the Man and tried to ignite his torso. That’s when the cops arrived.

There were two good cops and two bad cops, and after a few threats and negotiations they left on our promise that we’d knock it down, finish burning it, and go home. This proved to be a great solution all the way round.

To satisfy my curiosity and to clean up our mess, I returned to the crime scene the next morning to pick up the pieces.

Later, when the SF Focus magazine’s writer called I put him in touch with Larry. Busy with a full-time job it seemed logical to ask Larry to arrange the interview. I emphasized that I wanted to be included. Larry had hurt his back and was unemployed. He held the interview without me. Mike Acker and I were referred to as Larry’s cohorts in the article.

It was around that time when Larry and I consulted with a guy connected to the SF art scene named Michael Bell. In discussing our ideas for Burning Man, given its clandestine nature, Michael said, “it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission.” I think that hit Larry down to the soles of his shoes.

The video from the beach in 1988 shows Larry standing on the beach, hands on hips, watching and pointing.

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Terry Pratt... He taught me a lot about a new way to look at life.
Farewell Larry…

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Elenor Preger...

I sat next to Larry @ a luncheon for the opening of the Smithsonian Renwick Burning Man exhibit, No Spectators.  We chit chatted, & I asked him to tell me something I didn't know about him. He chuckled. That would take a while he said.

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Julia Collier...

Larry, I never personally met you but I knew who you were.

I just had a job interview at the Burning Man HQ. Marian left your side at the hospital to come interview me on Friday and the next day you were gone. I wish I could have met you in person so that I could tell you that I am so grateful for the legacy you have given the world. I truly believe that Burning Man is the answer to the trauma that we experience daily in the default world. The love that is breathed back into the playa is spreading beyond the dust to the rest of the world. The violent history of that land and the blood stains that run deep through the soil are being healed because of Burning Man. The event, the non-profit, the foundation- these gifts you have given us are the tools we need to continue your vision. Thank you, Larry. I really hope you haunt the playa or something so I can see you around. *pours one out for the homies*

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Jane Maru...

The year was 2012. Black Rock City.
One day our camp leader announced to us there was going to be a gathering in our camp, the first of it's kind with all the muckety-mucks of the Org and heads of various camps and that we'd need to clear out for a couple hours.
Naturally, I stayed.
An extra wing had been added that year to the shade structure to accommodate this catered, secret meeting. I sat off to the side, out of the mix, where I could observe people unnoticed. I watched closely as the last person approached and entered.
It was Larry Harvey.
He came in, surveyed the scene, saw that I was in a quiet corner away from everyone and walked over. He said hello as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and sat down next to me, lit up, turned to look at my smiling face, and began to tell a story about how he'd had a dream about the Otic Oasis before it ever came into form.
As Larry spoke about that and other visions he'd had, I felt I was listening to a delighted child sharing from their imagination. There was an innocence and purity, a type of vulnerability that I typically only encounter with children; rare qualities in an adult that I value tremendously.  
We shared this space for about 20 minutes before Larry reluctantly let someone whisk him away from his whimsical musings.
And isn't it true, "takes one to know one". The Burner Family recognizes in each other our child-selves, that place of open trust we share; where we build from our wildest dreams a dusty playground to laugh and be free in the wonderment of it all.

2017, Monday, early evening at the Man. Someone next to me stepped at the same time onto the first step of the pavilion. We looked at each other in that moment, a couple of kids excitedly ascending the stairs of our shared dream.
That was the last time I saw Larry.

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Sarah Cranberrry...

Thank you, Larry Harvey. Burningman changed me and my life forever. I lit a candle for you.

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Serena Van Vranken...

Burning man gave me community when I didn’t even know I was missing one. The welcome home I received my first year from strangers, both verbal and hugs, did something to change my heart. I became more open, loving, and forgiving. More inclusive and less judgmental. More willing to make connections. My heart swells when I think of going home.  Although Larry didn’t believe in an afterlife, or so I hear, I do. What I believe is that his energy will be there this year and for years to come, welcoming us home. Thank you, Larry, for all you’ve done, but especially I thank you for this gift of community you’ve given us.

TRAV MO ...

It was Monday morning of my second burn 2014. A day I will always remember. The gates should have been open by now, but heavy rains late Sunday night soaked build crews and playa leaving the gate no choice but to remain closed. A buddy and I went on a fools errand to try and retrieve ice for our camp without realizing how sticky and relentless the mud would be on our wagon tires. After 3 hours of slowly chipping hardened playa off our wheels we decided to sit down and take a breather. That's when I saw him. Grey brimmed hat, muddied rain boots, cigarette draped on his lips. He emerged with the sun from center camp like The God I never believed in. He kept gazing up into the sky, as if to politely ask the clouds to break so everyone at gate could finally be let in. I knew I had to seize this magic moment. I knew I had to say something.

"Are they opening gate anytime soon?" I yelled a few yards out to him, without expecting to be acknowledged at all.

He exhaled a generous puff of smoke and affirmed. "Yeah, gate will be opening back up any minute. It's gonna take more rain than that to slow us down," while he casually made his approach toward us.

I asked him for a light. He pulled out a torch and told me to pull my face back or we'd be lighting more than my cigarette.

Then we chatted.

We finished our smoke, but the conversation lived on.

He told me the story about the time The National Guard came out and sat around the perimeter threatening their utopia with a police state.

HE said "that's when I knew we really had something special."

We talked politics.

He asked what my camp was called and where we were placed.

"4:45 and F?" He says. "F is Frakensense this year right?" As if to give himself a pat on the back for remembering the streets theme this time around.

After about 20 minutes of back and forth my buddy asks "so how many of these have you been to?"

Before Larry could answer, I interrupt.

"DO you have any idea who you're talking to?" And it dawned on me this entire time my friend had no idea he was talking to the very man who brought him there.

'Ummm no?" He says, as if his somehow his ignorance could save him.

"Don't worry about it, I'll tell you later."

My buddy looks back at Larry, now curious to hear his answer.

Larry pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and as humble as the burn is short he replies "well, I've been to all of em."

I remember being overcome with delight watching him be able to answer that question with such candor.

I remember thinking to myself "this is the attitude I want to have. Create everything, take credit for nothing.

Larry could have greeted any number of the 68,000 burners embarking on the playa that day, but he chose to be present with us.

Just as I was ready to walk away elated with my encounter, a group of people ran buy in their underwear covered in mud. Socks dragging a foot behind them, laughter filling their hearts.

Larry pointed at them and said "now those guys are doing it right."

"Anybody having that much fun is doing it right."

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Troy Swanson...  
R.I.P. Larry Harvey. It was probably after my first or second Burning Man... on one of the looong drives out..blissed out after a week of magic on the playa, with my heart burst open & filled with gratitude for everyone and everything that had just made me see the world differently & challenged me to become a better version of myself, when I took a moment to think about Larry Harvey.

I recall asking myself, "Imagine being the person that was responsible for activating all this magic?". "Imagine what it would be like to wake up every day and know that this thing that you started is now massively impacting so many people's lives and in so many different ways?"

Year's later, I had the honor of meeting Larry in Amsterdam and chose to give him a brief Thank You, instead of the gushing, sharing Fan Boy that I probably felt like being then.

Every day, each one of us is asked by people "How are you"? And to those rare few that actually want an accurate in depth answer - before responding I actually do a quick assessment of how I'm doing. Which I'm fortunate to share that my response typically goes something like... "I'm really good. I'm truly alive. And I feel like if I it's my time to go tomorrow that I have really lived, and that I gave more than I took my time here."
So with the recent news of Larry's passing I wasn't sad... but instead celebratory. As I know from friends that knew him that he truly lived. I know that he truly gave and that he leaves this planet with a beautiful L E G A C Y of impact, and something that is set up in a way to go on for many years to come.
In honoring Larry, I also recognize and give gratitude today to all of the amazing burners, who have added their time, passion and magic to making Larry's Baker Beach Spark into the 87 Massive Multi-Day Burning Flames around the world each year, many I have recently the pleasure of meeting at Bman ELS in France. The saying "It takes a Village - could not be more true than with the Burning Man world".
Many years ago, I recognized and began sharing that 'Attending Burning Man is the Best Gift I Give Myself Each Year'. And I'm proud to be passing the torch... and amplifying Larry's legacy, in my writing about Burning Man in my upcoming book about Transformational Growth Experiences.

I'm also proud to be playing a small part for the Burning Man: GALAXIA Temple 2018 - Fundraising team this year. Which I know is going to glow brighter than ever as we celebrate the life... and what is now a massively huge torch that Larry passes on to all of us.

Thank You Larry. For the Spark, the life you lived and for the L E G A C Y you leave for us. <3

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Alpy...

If it weren't for Larry,  I never would've met my family,  and I never would've met myself