See, here’s the thing: we’re all a little broken. Maybe your heart’s been through a meat grinder, maybe your dreams took a wrong turn somewhere along the path and you are still trying to get your flat-tired 3-wheeled rusted bike of a body back on the proper trail, or maybe you’re just trying to remember where you left your dignity last night (again and again). But on this island, brokenness isn’t something to hide — it’s the whole damn point.

Cracks let the weird light shine through. Put the pieces back together with gold fill, and show all of us that we share fragility and dents. “Namas-toy” means “The broken toy in me sees and loves the broken toy in you.” Namastoy, indeed. 

This year’s theme is an unapologetic embrace of our flaws, quirks, and beautifully janky edges. A gathering of all the black sheep, Uncle and Aunt Weirdos, those whose families still sit them at the kid’s table even as the grey hair begins to march up the hairline.

We are the music-makers, often of horrible music, and we are often the dreamers of nightmares too, but so be it. Stand tall on the Island, you are not alone. Think toys missing limbs, stuffed animals with pirate eye patches, wind-up robots that only walk backwards, and Barbie heads with marker tattoos — all having one magnificent burn together. This is where you duct tape your soul back together with flair and panache. So you have a Hulk arm with a Furbie head. So what. Join us and show us.

But the magic of the Island of Broken Toys isn’t just about celebrating our personal weirdness — it’s about what happens when we all pile our busted selves into this community blender called Love Burn. You add yourself, participate, volunteer, become. Burns have always been about community foremost, vast yearly celebrations of relationships, new skills and creativity. As we age, we grow old together, and more and more the discussions are about bad backs, twisted knees, blood tests, and MRI scans.

We become the result of all the scars and brokenness of our experiences, and gathering together helps us to lick the wounds and comfort each other - together. Because, let’s face it, none of us can fix all our cracks alone, but when you surround yourself with other misfits, you suddenly realize: holy crap, I’m not the only one missing a few screws. We heal by holding up a mirror and saying before all of us and yelling- “Damn, your broken parts are gorgeous.”

Envision a burn that looks like the fever dreams of a toy factory explosion, mutant toy processions parading across the sand, and disjointed dance floors where everyone is encouraged to shake it like their batteries are dying.

You might even find a repair shop — a place to sew your stuffed heart back together or swap out broken beliefs for shinier, more chaotic ones.

So, bring your broken bits, your unfinished stories, your hilarious malfunctions, and your freaky fabulous selves. On this Island, the broken toys don’t get thrown away — they become legends. Welcome home, you beautiful disaster. Come to Love Burn 2026, and get broke!