Deaf Granny’s Kitchen 2025

Sunday afternoon, we were on our shift as Temple Guardians, watching the perimeter while the Temple was being built.

A sandstorm was approaching, and we were released early from our shift so we could make it back to camp before it hit.

The playa was thick with dust, our bikes and legs couldn’t carry us fast enough, and there we were — caught in the middle of the playa in a full whiteout. There was no shelter nearby, at least none that we could see, so we decided to follow the only sign that could guide us to safety: the beat. We followed the music and arrived at Deaf Granny’s Kitchen.

Thank you, Jai, for the warm cuddles and for dancing with us.

No words were needed — just that energy, that connection that goes beyond language.

Tuesday night, I refused to stay at camp, and we ended up wandering the streets again — barefoot, following the beat. The bass was calling, and, guess what? Once again, it led us to Deaf Granny’s Kitchen.

Dancing barefoot, our feet covered in playa mud, I loved seeing the different ways people connected with music. Some pressed their hands against the speakers — they couldn’t hear the sound, but they felt the rhythm through vibration, and that was enough to get them moving.

These are the moments that filled my week — the magical ones.”