{"id":3607,"date":"2020-04-23T11:55:22","date_gmt":"2020-04-23T15:55:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/?p=3607"},"modified":"2020-05-09T15:01:38","modified_gmt":"2020-05-09T19:01:38","slug":"my-quarantine-journals","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/2020\/04\/23\/my-quarantine-journals\/","title":{"rendered":"Quarantine Journals"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
\"\"<\/a>

In the stillness, I reminisce about the mundane experiences of my senior year.<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
By Brooke Loomis<\/em><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Day 2: Stillness\u00a0<\/i><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
To be still.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
To sit without movement.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
In the home,<\/span><\/div>\n
on the couch,<\/span><\/div>\n
the bed,\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
the oversized chair.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Moving parts limited to thoughts\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
and ideas,\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
dreams,<\/span><\/div>\n
and creativity.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
To accept the uncontrollable as truth.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
And live in this place of present stillness.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Day 13: Stillness<\/strong>\u00a0<\/i><\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
To be still.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Catching breath<\/span><\/div>\n
with gasps and gulps of the familiar air.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
To notice what is around you,\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 the couch, the bed, the home.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
To let motivation come from outside your being,\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 outside the world, outside existence.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
To take control of the simple.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Be empowered by the chaotic good.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
And thank the here and now.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Day 20: FB\u00a0<\/i><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Dear FB,\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
I hate our forced goodbye. I hate that this is the end of senior year. Let alone the end of the past four years. That it is separated and disheveled. That it is chaotic and dramatic and unfulfilling.\u00a0 I hate it. But I hate it because of how much I love you all. Heartbreak inevitably comes when you abruptly say goodbye to best friends.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\n

You have all brought me so much happiness. Memories swirl in my mind. They take hold and conjure surreal emotions. Cooking in our small kitchen. Eating dinner next to the window crowded with plants. Walking the paths of Maymont, the sidewalks of Cary, and the streets of Broad. Sipping overpriced alcohol and eating late night hotdogs downtown.\u00a0 Sitting outside on the Forum, basking in the sun and ignoring the problems of today. Thinking about tomorrow, not knowing it would come so soon.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

The 470G Apartment takes a much-needed break in Ashby’s after window shopping in Carytown.<\/em>\u00a0<\/span><\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Words in many ways are a blessing. They enable communication in the present and expression of the past. But words fall short as I explain my gratitude and love for you all.\u00a0 They fail to describe my lived experiences with you. The emotions, the vulnerability, and the excitement. Simply, one cannot explain the greatness of everyday. So, I am grateful to share these memories with you. Because we do not need the words. There is already a connection.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
See you soon \u2014 Dani, Ana, Matthew, Gabby, Eve, Carlie, Ross, Dana, Bilal, and Jasmine.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/span><\/div>\n
Day 10: Running\u00a0<\/i><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
I decided to go on a run.\u00a0 I chose the neighborhood\u2019s Bullfrog Valley Path. The path begins at a pond, surrounded by fishermen and ducks both enjoying the murky waters. And it ends in a grassy field, filled with baseball diamonds and ghosts of families.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Before I began, I took deep breaths of the unfamiliar fresh air. My feet instinctively moved me farther along the path. I started to run, but my body was not used to movement. To the space. To the freedom. And so, I tripped and fell.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
I lay on the ground. My pants ripped at the knees. And my hands dripped blood from landing first to protect my face. \u00a0My phone had flown into the grass. I laid on the ground, in shock. I laughed to myself. What in the world just happened? I forgot how to move, to exercise, to be well.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Four strangers were nearby. But none dared to come near me. None dared to pick up my phone or give me a hand as I stood up.\u00a0 One Samaritan called out from a safe distance.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u201cAre you okay?\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Day 30: Structure\u00a0<\/i><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
It was stolen and forgotten.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Its absent existence ignored until reality demanded attention.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Until I cried for it. And my mind pleaded for it. And my body ached for it.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
So, there was no other choice than to fill the gaping hole.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
New replacing the old \u2014t asks, priorities, and schedules.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Changeful structure bringing peace.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/i><\/span><\/div>\n
Day 17: DOC<\/i><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Dear DOC,\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
We were ripped apart. Pieces spread across the country.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Me plus you; we were so new. Just beginning to make our mark together. Just beginning to ebb and flow beautifully. Building relationships with our God. Helping others along the journey. But together was our plan, not His.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
So, we were ripped apart. Each disciple spread across the country.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\n

We said goodbye and held our breath. Talked about peace, hope, and joy; about accountability and conviction in isolation. All transcend borders and boundaries. All exist in an untouchable and unimaginable sphere above \u2014coming down to live in harmony with us.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

We all gathered at the James River for someone’s baptism into the church family.<\/em><\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
Unfortunately, we are apart. Not within walking distance of one another.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
But caring does not decrease with miles. And love and kindness <\/span>d<\/span>o not cease to exist\u00a0<\/span>through\u00a0<\/span>time.\u00a0 Prayers do not deflect off space and boundaries. And our God asks us to remember His limitless Truth and His infinite goodness no matter our location. \u00a0 \u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n
He asks us to live, rejoice in, and share it \u2014 together or apart.\u00a0<\/span><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By Brooke Loomis Day 2: Stillness\u00a0 \u00a0 To be still.\u00a0 To sit without movement.\u00a0 In the home, on the couch, the bed,\u00a0 the oversized chair.\u00a0\u00a0 Moving parts limited to thoughts\u00a0 and ideas,\u00a0 dreams, and creativity.\u00a0 To accept the uncontrollable as truth.\u00a0 And live in this place of present stillness.\u00a0 \u00a0 Day 13: Stillness\u00a0 \u00a0 To Read more about Quarantine Journals<\/span>[…]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4706,"featured_media":3640,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[97665],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3607","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-hershey-pa"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/files\/2020\/04\/XXUE4324.jpg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p7o53H-Wb","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3607","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4706"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3607"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3607\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3640"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3607"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3607"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.richmond.edu\/walkingrichmond\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3607"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}