Gregarious Gluttony

Some kind of never ending gregarious gluttony. All that which makes Beirut ciTy so vibrant and kicking can also render it very imposing, it's people very invasive, judgmental, and always in your face. And our ciTy is alive by the spirit of a people whose ultimate liberation is Carpe Diem, seizing the day and plucking off the eyes of tomorrow. Is there absolutely nothing wrong with that? When I come to think of the potential beneath all that raw energy, I am bewildered. One look at the outdoor media scene and you realize the kind of chaotic state of life we are living in and buying into. Is there absolutely nothing wrong with that mayhem? A perfect case study of branding anarchy. I need some headspace.

Can't live with it, can't live without it!

Have you ever come across such mixed emotions about our strange ciTy?  When we're around, we can hate it; when we're away, we crave for it. We take root wherever we lay our hats, and from there we long for homecoming. Not really knowing what it is that we miss. So we say it's the weather, the nightlife, the social fabric, the people, the culture, and when we run out of valid explanations, we say it's "the vibe" that we miss the most. We yearn to return, to visit, and sooner than later we can’t wait to leave. On our way out, we are happy to go but sad to depart. We love it and we hate it. We can’t live with it, and can’t live without it. Our ability to relocate, fit, mesh, and outshine, has always been a mystery to me. Are we compelled to adapt faster out of necessity, wit, and geopolitical circumstances? Or could it be that we learned to grow our roots above surface and our anchors are simply turned inward? Hence, we simply take our roots elsewhere. This is where we come from. This is where we belong.

Spring is here

The season that conceals our ciTy’s greatest flaws is here. Spring. A time of revolutions; some whole, some forsaken, and some attempting to burgeon. Springing into a revolution is the hardest part of life in our ciTy. After many past and failed attempts at claiming our freedom, we shyly demanded secularism. How can a people fight servitude without ever having lived FREE? I ask. A people not  afraid to stand out, however terrified to stand up. Let’s not do it by the facebook. Revolution 2.0 springing from the grassroots, from the youth, from the future – is way out of our league. Could this be one of our ciTy’s greatest flaws? Spring is here.

Homo Digitalis

I couldn’t help but catch a lasting glimpse of those beautiful pine trees, so representative of our local landscape, as a wave of Russian cold caught up with our land last weekend. And then, another wave is catching up with our ciTy, on a more digital front. This is the year of “social media” and we shall be ON. We modern humans, look back to our ancestors the Homo sapiens, as we become the new ‘Digital Natives”, all the more technology dependent and connected, paving the way to a new species. Are we the next Homo Digitalis?

Truck Culture

How many times have we come across those branded truck backs with painted symbols and text, but hardly ever wondered where this practice came from… an expressive tradition rooted in superstitions and speaking to our deepest apprehensions. Stuck in traffic behind our truck driver, I thought of him travelling distances to earn a living, carrying painted eyes and seemingly entertaining sayings on his vehicle, to shield it from wicked minds and envious eyes - although collecting more insults than envy on the road, nowadays. Whether in the colorful signs, or the messages, or even in the names given - dallou3ah being my favorite - he is transmitting folklore on his truck back without knowing it: a Truck Culture addressing our deep psychological fears of loosing against the odds; which makes us human - all too human - hence the basic need to protect what we own, and to protect our own by warding off ill will. And so, we reach out to knock on wood, cross our fingers, wish one another to 'break a leg', or paint an open blue eye or a khamsa on a truck back. Just like our truck driver on the ciTy streets, we all carry Truck Culture.

Hope and Dream

Two words: Hope and Dream. Everyone, everywhere, needs to hope and to dream. Isn't that true? There are cities under the sun where it takes one to hope harder and dream stronger; places left to their own devices, and vices... Beirut ciTy is such a place. It takes fortitude to be willing and able to hope and dream when all around us points differently, everyday, in our strange, beautiful, and terrible ciTy. My fellow citizen have fully wrapped their minds around this reality. We must have figured out a long time ago what our survival entails, hence our resilience and willingness to hope beyond our own expectations and dream, everytime. Be it what it may, at this time of the year, I will spare you the cliche greetings of the season. I will wish you instead two words, that someone close to my heart recently offered me in beautiful backlits, now hanging as a ray of light in my hallway, a beaming reminder: to keep the Hope and carry the Dream, always within. And as within, so without; I wish you Hope per chance to Dream, and Dream to always have the will to Hope. Pass it on, it is worth the while.

Time, and again

It has been such a hectic month and time simply flew, again... as it always does, so efficiently. And as we keep wondering where it went, repeatedly, we promise ourselves to get better at managing it, and time again flies, and we keep wondering where it went, so foolishly. But this time, I decided to stop asking myself where time went, or how fast, because time is fundamentally measurable, and constant. However, as exact and unwavering as it is, Time defines us in so many variable ways. Some say Time is the ultimate healer of wounds; I call it forgetfulness, but does it heal?? When painful (or not) conscious becomes subconscious eventually vanishing into oblivion, and we are relieved... we are forgetful creatures on a survival roller coaster and Time is our ally to move on. Time is also the glaring reminder that there is a future which must be planned for, which must be anticipated with all its endless possibilities such that we are prepared and our survival guaranteed, time and again. We can try to ignore Time, in a moment of absolute passion, yet we awaken confined within its ticking boundaries realizing how vain our quest has been. Time is not just quantifiable, it has a real presence in our lives. Isn't it futile to want to manage such vastness? try to tame that all encompassing presence? I take Time on my side as a constant reminder that there is hope, in all the little walks we go on - which become our life journey. Therefore, I shall take all those little walks yet to come, with time on my side.