ON THINGS TAKING THE TIME THEY TAKE

If we look to nature, we know that there is an underground neural network in which trees communicate. Fungi create threads underneath the soil through which plants send electrical signals to communicate information. And if you look at humanity, myth is our fungi equivalent. Visual and audible storytelling have been the threads in which we communicate from generation to generation. From primitive paintings on cave walls, to poetry, songs, movies, novels…These mediums have connected us throughout history. So what is ultimate power? It is the hijacking of information flow by mass media for shifting cultural tides.

There is a constant war happening daily, right in front of our eyes, and we look past it. Gian beasts decide what news to present to us, employing the catchiest ways to get our attention, infusing it with some subconscious bias. Throughout my years as a filmmaker and photographer, I became a weapon for these companies, a gateway into ‘Middle Eastern Culture.’ It hit me one day. Hard. That is when I met Hamza, and I got access to portray him and the gang of kids that look up to him on his rebellious journey to create hemp products here. I chose to approach the subject with no deadline, no framework, and no backing from any media outlet.

I went in eyes all the way open, and what I saw fueled my hunger once again, but in a new way. I just observed. I took it in slowly, with no pressing vision of the final outcome. The land itself became a character, and around it a wonderful synergy of pure intention. I found truth, and a mirror into my own depth, and the story of a kind and nurturing lan, indifferent to the flags planted on top of it. A story of a closed community opened up. A torch passed little by little to a younger, lost, still determined generation.

The photos and videos I took there are intended to be a gateway into something we lost a long time ago. There, I witnessed an ultimate understanding, a metaphysical nod to each other, of the time things take and the space needed from to happen, the composure of it all. Almost like an Arab version of Wu Wei. I was finally where I wanted to be. Breathing with the land, with the people. No rush, no producer suggesting feedback.

As I sit here, miles away, listening to Danny y su Grupo’s cumbia de Cuerdas andinas, micro-dosing hallucinogenic mushrooms, and writing this article, I long to return to the work I started many months ago. It’s critical to understanding our generation, our pace, our rhythm, our deep desire for functioning community within a dysfunctional society. Our ultimate yearning to return to something past that we’ve barely gotten to experience while fighting to survive in this capitalist world, to something we may never experience again here.

And in my own shattering, I found my craft again. A humble approach, and now, more than ever, I see my own voice and its significance. There’s a responsibility to represent things from a different perspective, to somehow be able to show a different truth.

Rony Karkar, “Hemp Spring” in Safar , Issue VII, Networks