Rereading The Bell Jar in 2022 resonated as a reminder that we’ve all been living under this universal bell jar of a pandemic for a few years now.
I hadn’t picked up this most classic, truly timeless book since way back in high school.
And here I am nearing the end of my favorite age yet. I'll be 33 in just a few more sleeps (July 6).
Per the placement of a makeshift looseleaf bookmark, I hadn’t yet finished reading The Bell Jar from when I first opened it well over a decade and a half ago. So, I started all over again at page 1 in the bath on that Friday morning, April 29, 2022, just a few hours before we headed west to Grand Rapids for Justin's little brother, Jacob's college graduation ceremony.
Having only continued reading when again soaking in the bath ever since, I just finally finished fully, for the first time, reading The Bell Jar completely on June 29, two months to the day since starting (unintentionally). Could not recommend it more urgently. Much like how the late Caroline Knapp's Drinking: A Love Story found its fateful way into my hands mid-last year, the late Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar illuminated, pleading to be read again - only this time, fully.
The Bell Jar is a cathartic, resurrecting read for this moment collectively.
Speaking to this moment, today marks the middlepoint of 2022. Last year, I learned the remarkably potent power of the middle:
Here's to 182 whole days of one blank canvas yet ahead with 182 now past in the rearview. Today, right in the middle of 2022, we stand still here, now, together. Let's make the most of this moment however we can for a better, brighter, fuller, freer tomorrow filled with love and light and peace with miracles of abundant grace.