Exploring your soul
DAY 14
This is our third quarantined week and everybody has found his feet, a habit runs, individual and timely shared. One keeps going with her student life screen to screen, the other tries to keep his permanent move by treading water, some breathlessly write and the last one is awfully bored. But everyday, at 1 pm, we meet to share a lunch, and laugh, fight, rise, think. To be alive.
Today, I posted my last metamorphosed chrysalis article. Thus, my journey is utterly over this time, I don’t even have my travel diaries as a safe haven to fly away and escape this morbide atmosphere. Thankfully, my voluble imagination is taking over and I am finally matching the quarantine limiting us, the prison freeing us.
I will follow the common movement of opening onto myself. One of my quanrantined companion, my mum, is a masseuse and she offers to set a body treatment for all of us. Since we are endlessly quarantined, the least we can do is to use our skills and take care of one another.
And following these body treatments, I take care of my soul. As I was riding Wild West American roads, one of my friends sent me a meditation challenge. As I was precisely riding Wild West American roads, I postponed and eventually forgot. But as this quarantine lasts forever, I think about this perfect occasion of gazing at my being’s depth, and for a perfect serendipity, another friend sends me the same challenge. There I go for 21 days of daily deep thinking, with which will intertwine my full immobile body’s care. Spirit out of my carnal being, I rise….
DAY 17
I realize I am utterly unable to know what day is which. I don’t have any mark, any way know. Days are flying and, without being fully the same, they still blend into each other. They become the tight edge to my writings whatever they are, interrupted by punctual but timeless activities. My world has no mark, since days are unconditionally flying.
Today, I finally fully committed to my invented fates whose dreams have blossomed with my wandering. I started to check some of my imagination’s seeds. I don’t throw myself, I begin step by step, character by character, looking for my own method.
Quarantine has only become a word, lacking of real. Quarantine means working from home, but I have always worked from home. Quarantine means being far from my friends with no social life, but I was travelling on my own in very remote places for eight months. Quarantine is only a blurry word. Yet, it is supposed to last until April, 15th. A least.
DAY 18
In a soft morning sun, I went to work in vineyards again. Soils were finally dry under my boots, it didn’t stick, muddy, to my feet anymore. Snails have built home in blossoms. My lonely thoughts ran like in a “workclose”. They called me Mouseigne, the harvesting leader, and I am sure I will lose my neutral actress’s French after so many hours spent listening to the soft southern accent.
Today, I talked to a friend I hadn’t talked for two years. It the second one this week. Not because we were not friends anymore, but life jumps and runs when you become a supposedly grown-up. Our thoughts intertwine from time to time but never reach the phone’s invisible wire. This mandatory stop, this universal loneliness, is then this occasion to take this time and call all the people we love and will always love.
This mandatory stop, this universal loneliness, pushes me beyond borders. I have my Tower of Babel on my phone screen, full of my wandering encounters, from the past and maybe from the future. I wanted to go to Italy to work on Italian, I stay in France and try to reborn my Spanish instead.
DAY 20
I suppose I took my pen because I had so much to say but my thoughts definitely struggle to reach paper.
My writing desire might have been triggered by the movie we watched tonight: Astérix & Obélix, Mission Cléopâtre. Once again, I was brought back, not only to another time of my life, but to another part of myself that I rarely visit. My look on my family will definitely change after this quarantine. I don’t know why, nor truly how, but I am sure of it. And I know it is for the best.
Yesterday, I wrote to a stranger. I wrote to isolated people in nursing homes, hoping I will create a real bound, dreaming I will start a true correspondance from another time? I want to help, to be there for people who needs it, to show my solidarity, but I don’t have any skills for this crisis. I use my little competences. Hungry, I proffer as many virtual hands as I can. I try to use this occasion to do something else differently.
Borders are most likely to stay closed until fall… I am not moving tomorrow! I miss the World with a big W and so many unexplored spaces…
Our streets are endlessly desert but our silences have ears and I have this crazy hope a new wind is drawing us…
Justine T.Annezo – March 30th – April 5th 2020, Carcassonne – GMT+2
PS: If you wish to gaze at your soul’s depth and get peacefully prepared to the world of tomorrow, awaiting for us after the quarantine, I invite you to meditate with Deepak Chopra over here
Fleeting Wor(l)ds 