Ring of Fire | KCET
Ring of Fire
Tuesday, 5:00 a.m. through the Sepulveda Pass, heading to the San Fernando Valley, the sun's about two hours away. The full moon's ahead, above the mountain tops behind Chatsworth.
During a total eclipse of the sun, the moon grows a circle of light around its edges. As the downhill begins, the ring of light had fallen off and trekked in slow anger, broken, up those mountains, swallowing chaparral and everything else in its way.
The winds toss the fire from hilltop to hilltop. The helicopters buzzed mosquito-like, dropping fire retardant spread by the winds. Where the fire skipped the freeway, small plumes of smoke rise in a continuous smoke signal. It's a lush tree city here and that keeps most of the embers from gobbling up even more terrain.
Near the hills, in the suburban edge called Porter Ranch, the Santa Ana winds are an abusive husband, shaking tree branches until they fall, bloodless. The winds let down, then pick up. The trees flail hysterically again, shedding leaves. The wind picks them up and heads toward the ocean.
After the screening, KCET Cinema Series host Pete Hammond conversed with director Fernando Ferreira Meirelles (City of Gold), and writer Anthony McCarten.
All around the United States is a 100-mile border zone where one can be searched and one's things seized. Policies way beyond what the constitution allows is regularly implemented. Artists drew on select sites. Here's what they realized.
Created by policymakers in the 1940s, the border zone extends 100 miles inland from the nation’s land and sea boundaries and houses nearly two-thirds of the U.S. population. It's also where the 4th amendment rights of the people have been subverted.
We have forgotten how to be medicine to the land, and to ourselves. The members of Syuxtun Collective are revisiting lost indigenous wisdom of learning and listening, of harvesting and preparing plant medicine in participation with nature.
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