"To the person in the bell jar, blank and stopped [dead], the world itself is the bad dream. A bad dream. I remembered everything. [...] Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were part of me. They were my landscape."
[TW if you read: The Bell Jar - self-harm, suicidal ideation]
Dear friend,
Two days ago I took a picture of this turtle ^. As I was driving, I was thinking of what I've read about walking. I was planning to walk after getting my sparkling water and oat milk.
I read that, following some sort of hard time or trauma, walking is basically the perfect thing to do. Apparently something about bilateral movement is soothing when your nervous system is keyed up.
I think it's cool that my body knew it needed to walk before my brain did.
---
I was driving to get groceries, scanning for animals and treasures (flowers, clouds, what I call, "leaffervescence," etc.,) as I tend to do. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. A pair of large black birds were shouting and swooping the asphalt I drove over. I was surprised. What were they doing? I crept forward, and they flew away. And then, I saw the little turtle guy. He was frozen on the black ground.
"Are the crows attacking him? Is this their next meal?" I pondered.
Part of me considered for a fleeting moment, allowing nature to, "nature." It reminded me of the safari in Tanzania, when I held my breath as the lioness stalked the warthog. "He won't get pumbaa," our guide mused, laughing. I didn't know who to root for. I imagined the red of death and couldn't bear the thought. But, everyone needs her next meal, after all.
Even my heron friend.
In quick resolution, I pulled my car over and walked to the turtle. I watched him for a moment. He stared back. I quietly told him hello, tucked my palms under his belly, and walked him to the other side. (Yes, I walked in the direction he was facing.) He tucked his head in his shell. I stood back a distance and watched. Eventually he popped his head out and observed me. "I see you," I told him.
He stared me in the eye. I bowed to him.
Then, he started to run, as much as a turtle can. "Smart turtle," I thought.
---
"I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air."
Reading, The Bell Jar, at this time was oddly the perfect thing for me to do. (Thank you, Casey! You recommended this book like, eight years ago.) I don't have television at my place yet, so I have been reading a lot. This is my sixth book so far this year!
I have been thinking a lot about the concept of a glass bell jar. Do I agree with Sylvia Plath? Is it really just a jar you can lift up, and step out from underneath? Is it as simple as looking through the clear, clear glass, and noticing what else is out there?
I myself am not so much of a black-and-white thinker. But, in some sense, I, oddly enough, think this is somewhat true.
When life gets hard, we might spend a lot of time noticing that it is. It makes sense, and we do need to pay attention to the, "things of life." We need to practice life hygiene. We need to address both physical and mental, ama.
We can't ignore our pain; it tends to become a monster the longer we look away. And, we also need to be here, now.
That has become my new mantra this year. So far I have powered through, "No is a complete sentence," "Clarity, presence, and plunge," "You are stardust. Glow, baby." "It's not your job." When I wake up, I use my, "Finch," app, open the blinds, drink water, and tell myself lately, "Be here, now." Then I check, "Start the day with a mantra," off my list.
There are a lot of beautiful things out here. Sometimes it's hard to see out of the bell jar. And, it is clear. It is glass.
When you learn how to see with your own eyes, you actually can see so many beautiful things. I think I will stick a new mantra to my mirror. Something to do with remembering that it is glass, after all. It is clear.
Did it take a lot of work to notice that my bell jar is clear?
Yes. Yes, it did.
Sometimes I think it's really just about being here, now. When you can.
---
I hope that you can see outside of your bell jar, too. The jar can hurt, and you can feel it, and you should. (And, get help if you need to! You know I am all about that -- therapy, medication if needed, self-honesty, mindfulness, asking for help, setting boundaries, educating yourself, opening the blinds, walking, even to the mailbox! See what it feels like to walk for ten minutes, thirty minutes, an hour, why not?) Pain, unfortunately, does tend to need to be experienced.
When I think of pain, I think of some friends.
...I have made a new friend whose pain has to be so sharp right now. I think of you sometimes, and I will remember you on the two big dates happening this month.
...I think of my friend in her new apartment. I hope she is settling in, and that she begins to let herself sleep in the bed.
...I think of the friend who I realized has sky eyes, like blue hydrangeas, and of course, cobalt blue and white ceramic.
...I think of the friend with green eyes, and the slice of brown, who we agreed would know people are looking in her eyes, when they notice.
...I think of my friend with two gray cats, who shared her home when I needed it most. I hope she finds home in her own heart.
...I think of my friend I am not sure where, but I hope he is finding joy.
...I think of the second friend I opened up to, and lost, as a result.
...I think of my friend who is learning how to swim. I hope you swim in the sea.
...I think of my friend who I will swim with on Sunday, with her son, my favorite boy in the whole world.
Pain can be incredibly lonesome. And, if we have love in our lives, we are not ever really alone.
---
So we experience pain. Agony is the pits. It gets (a bit) better with time and love on our side. Remind yourself of this, friend.
And, sometimes, we also need to look up. Look at the stars. We are stardust, baby. We are living constellations, living in a constellation, in the heartbeat of time, imploding and exploding over and over again, and settling, wonderously, into whatever we are, here, now.
Look up to the sky. Float on your back, (yes, you will learn how, my friend! :) ). Let the golden vaporwave glow behind your eyelids, listen to your heart beating; you are still alive after all! Stare at the clouds and find a bunny in them. Listen to birdsong; birds sing when it is safe! (Plus, there is a lot of research out there on the healing power of birdsong!)
Remember to observe the cosmos and remember how small you are. It can be oddly comforting.
I will seek out Jupiter and Venus tonight. An old friend reminded me to notice the stars as well. (Thank you, Keenan!) I am excited because I think, with Mars, I will get to see a triangle in the horizon. The triangle is the strongest shape in nature! (Looking at you, Kelsey and Keaton!)
Maybe you can step outside with me. Look up the sunset time. Find a big patch of open sky. Bring binoculars. Sit on a towel or something. You will see Mercury near where the sun sets. Then, look for Venus and Jupiter right next to each other a bit higher in the sky. Eventually a crescent moon will join the chorus, a few days from now.
And, it's all taking place in the twin constellation, Gemini. Look for two stick figures who appear to be holding hands near Jupiter and Venus, shining extra bright.
---
I have written a lot about cacti and wildflowers. I love those suckers. I love that they learn how to grow, even in a sliver in the pavement, (looking at you, James!), against all odds. They crack into color in defiance.
This is my favorite wildflower.
It reminds me of my sisters. (That's why I took a picture of a bunch of three. The three sisters. "Watch out for those girls. They're wild," some used to say...)
The blanket flower grows everywhere at the beach I grew up visiting. That beach is about the most special place I know. It is holy to me.
We sisters swam every time we went, even in December.
I love that this weed looks like it's on fire. It is beautiful during the golden hour, and it grows in the sand. It grows in the sand!
---
Grow in the sand with me. Don't give up on yourself. See the bell jar, and also, make sure to take some time stepping out from underneath it.
Be here now, for a moment. When you can.
---
I hope to see you, seeing the stars soon. I will be outside tonight, along the water, remembering just how small I really am.
How lucky are we, to get to be here, in this blip of a blip? How odd. All the things that had to land the way they did... one of my friends is convinced that it can't all be random.
---
"Pausing, for a brief breath, on the threshold, I saw the silver-haired doctor who had told me about the rivers and the Pilgrims on my first day, and the pocked, cadaverous face of Miss Huey, and eyes I thought I had recognized over white masks. The eyes and the faces all turned themselves toward me, and guiding myself by them, as by a magical thread, I stepped into the room."
I am finally strong enough to re-enter the, "rat race," that is life. This was probably the most painful blip of pain, in my blip.
But, the migraines are lessening. The sleep is settling. The appetite is appetite-ing.
Again.
The thought-rivers have been re-routed, sometimes a drop at a time. And, I am as close to normal as I guess I ever could be :-P.
I myself am smelling the air outside my glass bell jar, these days. It smells fresh, free, and light. And, guess what? My bell still works; it still rings!
---
Right now as I type, I am listening to music. I made a playlist called, "Over the Rainbow." I am listening to, "Pumpin' Blood." I like remembering that I am still alive. We are still alive, friends.
Soon I will sigh, and close my laptop. I wonder who reads this thing.
Then, I am going on another long, meandering walk. Like Forrest, I will walk until, well, "I'm pretty tired. I think I'll go home now."
Then, I might paint, or vacuum, or begin Cloud Atlas. I plan on doing some yoga under the stars tonight.
---
So friend, truth or dare?
Ha!
I choose dare.
I dare you to go outside the bell jar with me tonight. Smell the fresh air. Ring with me, my friends! Meet me outside around 8:30 PM. Don't forget to look up. Tell me if you go! I want to hear from you.
Open up the dang blinds,
and be here, now.
Look up.
With joy, and freedom, and peace, and all the stars in my heart, Outside the bell jar at last,
Love,
Kara











