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Come Back. A short poem.
Symbols and Stories on Substack. Link in bio.

In Europe there was a growing demand for “Middle Eastern” stories. You’re an Arab, I thought. Let’s take advantage of that.

And then I found out what the Europeans were actually looking for: a fetish. A way to explore their colonial fascination and guilt. They wanted poverty. Female oppression. Religion. Social crisis.

As an Arab filmmaker, the only way to get financed was to pimp your culture out.

So I did.

Full piece on Substack. Link in bio.

#filmmaker #failure #cannesfilmfestival

In Europe there was a growing demand for “Middle Eastern” stories. You’re an Arab, I thought. Let’s take advantage of that.

And then I found out what the Europeans were actually looking for: a fetish. A way to explore their colonial fascination and guilt. They wanted poverty. Female oppression. Religion. Social crisis.

As an Arab filmmaker, the only way to get financed was to pimp your culture out.

So I did.

Full piece on Substack. Link in bio.

#filmmaker #failure #cannesfilmfestival

In Europe there was a growing demand for “Middle Eastern” stories. You’re an Arab, I thought. Let’s take advantage of that.

And then I found out what the Europeans were actually looking for: a fetish. A way to explore their colonial fascination and guilt. They wanted poverty. Female oppression. Religion. Social crisis.

As an Arab filmmaker, the only way to get financed was to pimp your culture out.

So I did.

Full piece on Substack. Link in bio.

#filmmaker #failure #cannesfilmfestival

In Europe there was a growing demand for “Middle Eastern” stories. You’re an Arab, I thought. Let’s take advantage of that.

And then I found out what the Europeans were actually looking for: a fetish. A way to explore their colonial fascination and guilt. They wanted poverty. Female oppression. Religion. Social crisis.

As an Arab filmmaker, the only way to get financed was to pimp your culture out.

So I did.

Full piece on Substack. Link in bio.

#filmmaker #failure #cannesfilmfestival

In Europe there was a growing demand for “Middle Eastern” stories. You’re an Arab, I thought. Let’s take advantage of that.

And then I found out what the Europeans were actually looking for: a fetish. A way to explore their colonial fascination and guilt. They wanted poverty. Female oppression. Religion. Social crisis.

As an Arab filmmaker, the only way to get financed was to pimp your culture out.

So I did.

Full piece on Substack. Link in bio.

#filmmaker #failure #cannesfilmfestival

In Europe there was a growing demand for “Middle Eastern” stories. You’re an Arab, I thought. Let’s take advantage of that.

And then I found out what the Europeans were actually looking for: a fetish. A way to explore their colonial fascination and guilt. They wanted poverty. Female oppression. Religion. Social crisis.

As an Arab filmmaker, the only way to get financed was to pimp your culture out.

So I did.

Full piece on Substack. Link in bio.

#filmmaker #failure #cannesfilmfestival

What if the way you face death is the same way you face life?
Full piece on Substack. Link in bio

What if the way you face death is the same way you face life?
Full piece on Substack. Link in bio

What if the way you face death is the same way you face life?
Full piece on Substack. Link in bio

What if the way you face death is the same way you face life?
Full piece on Substack. Link in bio

What if the way you face death is the same way you face life?
Full piece on Substack. Link in bio

What if the way you face death is the same way you face life?
Full piece on Substack. Link in bio

This is the season of the first flush Chinese green teas, and there’s something very special about them. Like newborns, they are pure and innocent, still close to the nothingness they came from just a few weeks ago. They carry an exquisite timelessness in their effortless expression.

Drinking this Long Jing, I caught myself thinking, “this smells like God’s exhale.” Fleeting and sweet. Invisible but known. It reminds us of nature’s love. It teaches us that being delicate is a delicacy.It allows us to remember something of our own immortality.

With my nose over the cup, feeling the vapor rise and sensing the aroma, it’s as if I am being kissed by eternity. After the tea is gone, the aroma lingers in the cup, even sweeter than before, like a yearning memory. Every year, the new leaves return and remind me that beauty is still, and always, to be found.

The only way I can appreciate this tea is through awareness. If I just sipped without being present, none of this would exist. Our experience exists as a dance between the visible and the invisible.

No amount of reading, intellectualizing, or convincing would bring me to that lived truth. And yet we go about our lives missing those quiet moments, which are the only moments that hold any real truth. We forget to feel God’s exhale all around us. Or nature’s. Or source. Whatever we call it, it doesn’t matter.

On the edge of a cliff some years ago,
There was a town with no name,
Its one hundred or so people would rise with the moon
And sleep at the light of day.

All decisions of the land
Were deferred to the sparrows and mules,
And the ones who kept the peace
Were the beasts who set the rules.

While the grownups moved as one
And drank from cups they need not fill,
A child was playing with dragonflies
When he heard a sigh drift down the hill.

On a wagon stood a figure
Cloaked in red beside her mare,
With ruby hands she reached behind
And showed the child her special wares.

“Is this the way to the east, my child?
For days I have been lost,”

The child then pointed east,
And was offered the wares at no cost.

“This and that will bring you luck,
Be sure to share them well.”

She climbed back on her wagon
And rolled off down the hill.

The child ignored the hoots and howls
And hurried to the square.
He showed the people this and that
To wide and open stares.

And soon the people moved here and there
With this and that to trade,
Until their eyes began to shut at night
And reopen in the day.

This became that,
And they needed that to live,
With this and that they killed the beasts
Who had neither this nor that to give.

This and that grew,
Until the townsfolk turned blind,
The days became decades
Where their seconds were mined.

Read more on my Substack. Link in bio

On the edge of a cliff some years ago,
There was a town with no name,
Its one hundred or so people would rise with the moon
And sleep at the light of day.

All decisions of the land
Were deferred to the sparrows and mules,
And the ones who kept the peace
Were the beasts who set the rules.

While the grownups moved as one
And drank from cups they need not fill,
A child was playing with dragonflies
When he heard a sigh drift down the hill.

On a wagon stood a figure
Cloaked in red beside her mare,
With ruby hands she reached behind
And showed the child her special wares.

“Is this the way to the east, my child?
For days I have been lost,”

The child then pointed east,
And was offered the wares at no cost.

“This and that will bring you luck,
Be sure to share them well.”

She climbed back on her wagon
And rolled off down the hill.

The child ignored the hoots and howls
And hurried to the square.
He showed the people this and that
To wide and open stares.

And soon the people moved here and there
With this and that to trade,
Until their eyes began to shut at night
And reopen in the day.

This became that,
And they needed that to live,
With this and that they killed the beasts
Who had neither this nor that to give.

This and that grew,
Until the townsfolk turned blind,
The days became decades
Where their seconds were mined.

Read more on my Substack. Link in bio

ONE MORE PODCAST
What happens after your 12th ‘deep dive’ this week.

#podcaster #deepdive

The last swim of summer

#summer #lastswim #sea #seasons #contemplation

A little reflection on “spirituality.”

I’ve been deep into the @genekeys wisdom for the past couple of years, and what it’s shown me is that a truly spiritual life is a contemplative one that emerges from allowing, accepting, and embracing both our shadows and our gifts.

And yes… sometimes I still lose my shit over socks.

#genekeys #spirituality #spiritual

Here’s a little moment I had on a train.

I have @genekeys 33 twice - in my Radiance and Attraction.
In my contemplations, I realized how forgetting can actually be a gift hidden within the shadow. It can mean forgetting my true essence and losing touch with the present. But at a higher frequency, it becomes forgetting the inessential—which then leads to mindfulness!

I realized that the feeling is independent of the event.

#poem #genekeys #reflections #trainride #mindfulness

Self Therapy: SANITY CHECK

Denial: Keeping generations ‘fine’ since forever.

#selftherapy #comedyreels #angermanagement #denial

SHADOW PATTERNS: Light reveals the beauty hidden within our shadows, illuminating the perfection beneath.
Photo inspired by @genekeys 1, 11 and 18.

#genekeys #coffee #pause #shadows

Paris Survival Guide: Basic Vocabulary

#paris #learnfrench #parisianstyle