Quarantine Diaries: Day 66

25 May 2020

these months of quarantine taught me that there’s so many things in life that i love. there are so many moments and people and objects and experiences for me to pour my love into. in deprivation and restriction i tasted the most delicious of feelings: an ardent love for life and an appreciation for the sacredness and value of this fleeting, seemingly insignificant human experience.

putting travel out of the question for the near future, i discovered that driving my car around this land that’s tiny on the map but vast on foot is a good enough replacement for a summer unlike any other. i learned that reality is sometimes surprisingly better when it doesn’t go as planned and when we let go of tradition to experience something new, something we wouldn’t have chosen had we had the choice. we fool ourselves into believing that our joy can only be found in doing a certain thing (travel in this case), but in reality we can find even more joy in the flexibility to embrace circumstances that may be far from ideal, but that nevertheless have their own essence of enjoyment.

this will certainly be the longest summer break of my life, and it is up to me to make it memorable for good times rather than bad.

Quarantine Diaries: Day 61

photo by Casey Horner

 

20 May 2020 // 27 Ramadan


one thing i like about these days is that i don’t talk a lot. i like being silent. i’m slowly training my mind to also not think in any way that i wouldn’t want to be heard outside. of course, i can’t fully eliminate my thoughts because aside from that being humanly impossible, i do harbor some beliefs that to others and to my own rational mind are absolutely insane, and i can’t just not think them because “i don’t wanna be heard saying them.”


all of this is based on my conviction that what’s within us inevitably comes out through our words and behaviors and even in our mere appearance. if i want to appear serene and peaceful and somewhat intelligent with my humble little nook of the world’s knowledge, then it only makes sense that i actually be like that on the inside. this is the art of being a person in the world. it’s true that we are seen (and misjudged) by others based on their own clouded perceptions, but it’s an unquestionable truth that there’s a margin of who we are that shines out to any observer no matter what they make of it.


it’s this tiny window that inspires me to mindfully sculpt my inner world, and to hone the art of doing so as i grow and evolve. this inner world of mine, this rich forest, murky with mystery and occasionally sharp with clarity.. i see it as a canvas for me to paint with the colors and virtues i choose, because if i didn’t mindfully choose them, the paintbrushes of others would scribble on me and i would fall prey to my own unconsciously chosen misfortune.


looking from the outside, through this tiny window comes an aura, a person’s essence, something you perceive but can’t really pinpoint.. i want my emanating light to reflect a serene and benevolent person.. perhaps this period of continuous silence and solitude is a great opportunity to look within and start painting something beautiful..

Quarantine Diaries: Day 54

13 May 2020 // 20 Ramadan

the details of my day are not worth mentioning. it was no different than yesterday and the day before and the one before that. i have nothing to say except this:

when lockdown started in mid-March, we were stifled with uncertainty and ignorant of how long it would take to get back to our lives. we were all baffled and in collective distress. the imminent threat and consequent anxiety were rippling all around us, invading our minds and permeating our homes and ghosting our streets. for the first time in our lives, we were all feeling the same emotions, thinking the same thoughts. we were separated and in isolation, but none of us was alone. we were all understanding and understood. those of us that didn’t get infected by the virus, they were sure sick with its looming all around. the thing with this pandemic is that it clogs our minds before clinging to our lungs, and sometimes it fails to infect our bodies but it surely succeeds in disrupting our lives. at this point we just held our breaths and waited for April.

when April finally arrived, we were only faced with disappointment and there was no sign of getting out. some of us took hold of their pens and filled their papers till they ran out of notebooks. some of us stocked up on canvases and turned their homes into galleries. some of us read book after book while some could not turn a single page. some of us spent all their waking hours switching between bed and the couch running marathons on Netflix as an attempt to escape the reality of the rising numbers and gloomy predictions. many of us cleared our desks and sat there facing those inanimate screens that were the only form of contact we had with the world. all of a sudden a lifeless object fed our need for human contact; it kept us alive and sane behind those locked doors and between those lonely walls.

we said maybe Ramadan would be it. it would come and bring the airs of Heaven along with it. it came, it blessed our hearts and cleansed our souls, but it kept us home, praying in the solitude of our tiny rooms. we prayed like never before. millions of us, scattered across the globe, asking God for the same exact blessing in a hundred different languages. we whispered to the sky incessantly like birds chirping at the crack of dawn and went to sleep with surrendered hearts.

we kept holding our breaths with the hope that May would bring our release from our homes — those houses of ours that started to feel too small and suffocating for our arms and legs that yearned to stretch and move. May came and it only succeeded to dishearten and disappoint. do we have any more hope left for June? i think we need to stop holding our breath and just breathe in our safe homes and befriend our new close allies — our masks and gloves — until our collective human fate makes a turn for the good and sees the light of day at last…