I didn't think I was going to make it through last week.
Some might say I didn't. A full week would have been Days 41-45, and I only showed up here through day 42...barely.

But last week was the biggest week I've had since I started showing up. It was the most here I have been, to this point.

Last week I "failed" in front of you.
I couldn't hide it.
It's all here.

What is here for all to see?

Sometimes hard times beat me to the page.
I'm not perfect.
I experience deep pain.

That I care.
I'm not a bullshitter.
What I say here is for real?

I'm not a quitter.

I can assure you (and me, while I'm at it) that failure is not the end.
It doesn't have to be.

The pain issues are not resolved.
I am experiencing nerve pain. It's not the kind of thing you can just turn off, and ignore completely.
Exhaustion dominated last week, and I'm still not up to speed.
Even for someone like me, a dissociation pro.
In a weird way, I'm experiencing the failure of dissociation, my primary means of lifetime survival.

But this isn't really a failure either.
It's progress toward true connection and life, which was the purpose of my survival all these years.
No more turning off my feelings in order to get through.

In the process, I connected with clay again.

Clay = Healing Celebration

***

On Friday, I made this Compassion Spoon.
(click pics for more in-process views)

I started with the intention of making a "regular" spoon.
In most cultures, a spoon's primary function is to aid in bringing food to the mouth.
The mouth and tongue, which interacts with a spoon, are also sensory organs.

I have struggled with self-care, nourishment and self-compassion.
In the process of disconnection and dissociation from these needs, senses get turned off.
The dynamic between food, eating and being in touch with feelings of the human experience can be complex. A knot in this flow can be seriously dangerous.

I was drawn to making a spoon to explore and open up parts of myself that have shut down or been rejected in an attempt to manage the overwhelm of life.
I wanted to explore and challenge how I have been taking care of myself.

A spoon is like a mediator, or intercessor, in a way.
It is a neutral object that aids in transporting something from one location to another.

Ideally, when used as an eating utensil, a spoon's contents would contain substance to nourish and promote a healthy life. When feeding yourself, that is hopefully an element of choice.

But, as I worked toward forming the spoon, the thought of putting a spoon into my mouth didn't feel helpful or nourishing.

It felt like one more demand. One more movement that didn't feel right.
Before I'd even made the spoon, I didn't want anything to do with it.

So, my spoon transformed in my hands!
This is when it became a Compassion Spoon.

It became something I could handle.
It took the shape of a spoon, but it's purpose was more like a bowl.
A bowl is designed, not just for transport, but to hold something for an undetermined amount of time.

Isn't that what a spoon actually is..a very tiny bowl?

So, I made a tiny bowl on one end of the "spoon" handle.
It has more defined sides so it can hold its contents more like a traditional bowl.

My creation of the Compassion Spoon presents an intimate container.
The idea is to make it safe enough to approach, so that it is not rejected entirely, due to overwhelm of the typical, demanding type of spoon.

***

Sometimes when you're healing, you can just take a little bit of a meal, at a single sitting.

The Compassion Spoon is my "little bit." My less-is-more.
It's is a place of calm, not filled with expectation.
There is no right or wrong way to experience it, or take it in.
The design of a traditional spoon demands a quick decision about its contents.
If something is in it, something must be done with it.
A typical, traditional spoon at rest is usually empty.

My Compassion Spoon can rest on the table, and says, "Take your time."
"No rush, I'll be here when you're ready."

Nothing is forced.

The Compassion Spoon puts control back into the the hands of the person who is eating, or taking in, the nourishment.
It is made for personal use, to become an intimately real part of life, a point of meditation and thoughtfulness. A way to rebalance and connect with feelings, rather than eat or starve yourself away from them.

You can sit there and look at a single bite for as long as you want.
If even that amount ends up being too much, you can say, "no", but still come back to it.
The contents will not spill out or be lost.

It is a place to sit with just the amount I can process an any one time when things are storming everywhere else. It won't feel like failure if you just have a little, and having the whole thing in a hurry won't mindlessly push your intake tolerance over the edge. If you choose to have "seconds" its design makes it harder to bite off more than you can chew.

There can never be "too much."
And since the Compassion Spoon is a concentrated space, it is simple to fill back up again, if desired.

There are options for how you use the Compassion Spoon. You can bring it to your mouth and take it all in one bite like a traditional spoon if you're up to it, or you can take tiny sips from the side, as if from a miniature cup.
Both are appropriate.

***

The other side of this Compassion Spoon includes another space for containment.
This was made because, again, options.  And it fulfills a practical need.

In the process of making, and exploring the culture of eating and how we approach food, I thought of the times I want just a small bite of something, but there is something else already in my mouth. For instance, a piece of gum.

The other side can be a place to discreetly rest your gum while you approach your food!


I distinctly remember my grandmother always having a used chewing gum holder placed on her kitchen counter, in the shape of a cat on its back (much like this one,) which she utilized frequently.  I was so intrigued by this as a little girl!  I had mixed feelings about it.
On one hand it was gross, and on the other it was genius!

While I created, this was present in my mind. The memory of my grandmother's chewing gum holder brought forward a connection to my history which felt good to connect back to. Something idiosyncratic and unique to my history that was not a negative   One small thing to keep and carry forward. And who cares if it's weird. :)

***

After making my Compassion Spoon, I actually felt more rested, and "ok", about the condition I was in with life. I felt like I made a place for me. My weirdness had a space designed for it, creating my own definitions of normal. My way of approaching life doesn't have to look like everyone else's, and my way might have something to offer.

I felt more accepting of my currently overwhelming circumstances. I felt like I had done something to make things more manageable. And, I had something to show for it.

Through this formation, I can, through an identifiable and explainable object, show and tell where I am with life. I can see it tangibly in front of me, and reference it. I can pick it up and feel the texture and weight.

Feelings and thoughts are not always reachable.
However, a Compassion Spoon is!

I am exploring new ways, and contemplating even newer ways for the future.
Art, especially clay right now, helps me feel present and alive.
And just a tad bit less crazy.
Even if I make something uncommon.

Everybody needs a Compassion Spoon. :)