As I look inward, I do not always like what rises first when the room gets quiet enough, because beneath the polished story there is still a frightened voice,
As I look inward, what stings is realizing how easily I have mistaken comforting ideas for real clarity, expanding the parts of my story that felt easy while neglecting the parts that required deeper honesty,
As I look inward, the truest purpose is never flattering at first, it rubs against my pride and my shame at the same time, as both of them hate being handled with excuses,
As I look inward, can I bear seeing myself without rushing to defend or diminish what I find,
As I peer inward, every honest reflection compels me to relinquish my grip on the version of myself that was easier to perceive…
As I acknowledge softly, there are strengths in me that I have hidden under hesitation for so long and now each proof of my capacity feels almost suspicious in my own hands,
As I acknowledge softly, I know how easily I can kneel before my limitations as if they were permanent walls that I always kept mistaking for the shape of my life,
As I acknowledge softly, exaggeration of my own wounds me from both directions, one by making me reckless and the other by making me disappear before I have even begun,
As I acknowledge softly, am I shrinking because I am careful or because I am afraid to witness what I can truly become,
As I acknowledge softly, the cost of remaining unseen by myself has grown too high, too many rooms inside me have stayed closed because I kept living from an old and older version of understanding of who I really am,
I look at myself without disguise, it is humbling to admit that sometimes I wanted the comfort of a grander self-image more than the labor of becoming, because dreaming has often been kinder to me than opportunities,
I look at myself without disguise, and I recognize how easily I sometimes withdrew before the real test arrived, choosing the safety of distance rather than the vulnerability of offering my full effort,
I look at myself without disguise, and I recognize how often I lived between distortion and doubt, wasting tenderness on narratives that comforted me more than they guided me,
I look at myself without disguise, can I stay with the discomfort long enough to hear what is actually mine to grow,
I look at myself without disguise, because truth about myself does not arrive as praise or punishment but as a steadier ground that keeps asking me to stop dreaming and start doing…
I hold my ground calmly, there is a quieter dignity in knowing my actual reach than shrinking beneath abilities that are already waking and asking to be used,
I hold my ground calmly, this balance is harder than the mind easily wanders into extremes, either stretching my story too far or shrinking it too small, and both blur the quiet outline this dream,
I hold my ground calmly, so I keep returning to the plain work of noticing what breaks me, what steadies me, what asks more training, what already holds you together,
I hold my ground calmly, can I let my life be built from what is real instead of what flatters my wounds,
I hold my ground calmly, and the ground beneath me grows quieter but far more dependable, a place that I can finally stand without pretending who I really am, where progress comes not from spectacle but from steady footing…
Watchwords:
The smaller story,
An outdated estimate,
Between inflation and disappearance,
My real size,
Something I can finally stand on,
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
