Spirit-shards.

Collecting spirit-shards is no fun.

It is what I do.

I collect spirit-shards.

Some people collect shells.

I used to collect shells on pretty island beaches.

Now I collect spirit shards.

I am thinking that it is time to open my own little store on etsy. Maybe I will name it spirit-shards.

I will sell the shards of my spirit out to whoever may find beauty or peace or friendship in them.

What else can I do with my art, if not share it and offer it as gifts of my perseverance.

Art keeps my spirit from being crushed underneath the pain, the anxiety, the terror.

I keep my sanity, my spirit in tact.

I would like to have my own little store on etsy.

And I would like to publish this little blog.

I have to clean it up first.

I pray for you, that your pain levels get controlled again. I pray for you that you regain strength and health and stability and balance. I pray for you so much, with all my heart cuz I know what good spirit you are. And I love life through you cuz I know you so intimately and I love you and cherish you in the way that I want all living things to be respected and honored.

The sheep. The wool industry. Factory Farming.

Factory Farming is a monster like Pudendal Neuralgia. It tortures and subjugates.

My little spirit is a part of a much larger spirit. I long to touch this larger spirit. Sometimes I do. Dear God, thank you. sometimes I do.

Love,
Atara

Blog, hello. I wish that I had happy words to write to you.

Happy things: I found cruelty-free wool. Now, I can continue making my angels. And my angels, in turn can teach about the horrors of the wool industry and about the small farms that sell roving wool from sheep that grow with love, compassion and appreciation.

I wish that I could do more to fight against the meat industry and the wool industry. I wish that I could live my life in a healthy body. Every day is a new mountain to climb. I have to push my way through the anxiety, through hours of sleepless nights, my body, I try to  work hard within myself, to give myself compassion and patience. I try to love myself, to respect myself, to honor my efforts, my perseverance...

I dream of my art, of creating art with other women. I dream of hope and faith and the alleviation of suffering. Angels, sheep, my own little spirit bound to this little body.

I try to remember that I am not useless. I try to keep my spirit alive and awake and engaged, believing that I can be a leader somehow, a guide somehow for others that are new to this suffering. Every day is its own little mountain, my little flag of life raised above my head, marching onwards, to where?

Small sweet things. Small sweet things.

Fall.

Apart.

I gather.

Gather.

Gathering.

Small. Sweet. Things that mean something to me.

Spirit. Art. Hope. Faith.

My little worn out body.

In a world that moves so quickly.

I have fallen way behind my flock.

Me. Spirit. And another mountain to climb with the little flag of life raised above my head.

For me. For me to see. To keep on moving.

I would like to continue to grow
That is my prayer and my hope
If I cannot grow here then I will grow somewhere else

I will go
I will grow

I will seek understanding and wisdom,
always

And I will find humility
and forgiveness

within myself

I am sorry

for your suffering

deeply sorry

fem-in-an-ity

damn this disease that makes me write fragmented forms of feminine

thinking of a title for this blog

if I ever print it into book form, it needs a title

what kind of title am I going to find

all I can think of is female fragments

damn this disease, stomp it out

any ideas from anyone out there?

I am starting to feel like an idiot, an inane idiot with all these fragmented

Fragmented females

Woman fragments

Fragments of an as-if woman

the as-if woman

Or maybe,

Fragments of a Woman

How is that for a title?

Fragments of a Woman

fem-in-ine in f-rag-me-ents

fem-in-in-in in-ane f-rag-me-mend-less

fem-in-in-in f-rag-mend-less

or just

feminine fragments

fem-in-ine in fragments

fem-in-in in in-ane fragments

Fem in in in frag ment s

suffering spiritual

spiritual suffering

can these two words go together?

can I suffer in a spiritual way?

can I accept suffering as a part of a spiritual path?

can suffering be a guide and a teacher?

or is suffering only crushing and disabling and horrible?

I am trying to understand this

trying to accept this

somehow

in a spiritual way

what else is there to hold onto if not this?

I am raising money for the angel workshop

250 is my goal for now

with 250 I will be able to buy the material for three or four workshops for ten women

I am forging a path while in bed

seeking the lit spaces in this dizzying darkness

I am not alone, that is for sure

I am not lonely,

sometimes I feel hurt by and angry at friends that do not suffer from pain and disability for they judge me wrongly

but I reach out to other women who suffer like me, who live on the edge like me and who create meaning by caring for and connecting to others

I live on the edge with other women who live on the edge too and my own fight is completely entwined with theirs

I see the spiritual everywhere

it was at the lake yesterday, on the waters, with the swans,

and we took pictures

I have an artist by my side now

Now, in these hard and troubled times he creates art with me and helps me heal my story

even in these times, I can see blessings all around me

So, God, why, what is it for?

Are you trying to help us grow?

Why do you challenge us this way?


And how I continue to seek You always in me

I am being massacred
My female is being massacred
My female is being tormented and tortured

Why am I not being allowed to live as a female, to have children like a female, to love like a female, to be a woman

Female fragments
left of me, fragments
after the battle
what remains
fragmented female
lacerated

frag mented
frag mented
frag mended female
fem ale

fem in in ity
fem in in fragments

fem in in frag ments

frag me nts

I am fragmented

Fragments

being killed

alive, endlessly

each time I get up

I decided to get off of Cymbalta. I want to find a pain med. that I will be able to sleep on. I hate the way my brain feels on Cymbalta. This means going back into the land of the devil, back into nerve pain that makes me sob and makes me want to be dead. I am tired of this pathetic disabled life that I am left with. Tired of fighting my way through each day. I don't understand why I am being massacred, why I am being torn apart through my vagina. I want to be a woman.

Frag mented Female