I remind myself the old road is not a prison and you are not the prisoner, it’s a path worn down by others who struggled, who hoped for something who kept going,
I remind myself tradition is not just a chain but a compass, where we left behind by people who cared enough to mark the way to show our own way ahead,
I remind myself the stones beneath me are not just masters, but they are quiet companions that are both steady and patient with their dreams
I remind myself I can honor their walk and at the same time to truly listen, and still dare to place my step where no one has yet gone before…
I confess I once believed every footprint had to be copied exactly the exact way, that stepping aside would mean I was wrong despite of everything that is right
I confess I once and thought the past was already finished, flawless, too sacred for my clumsy hands to touch but I knew everything was about to come
I confess I feared the shame of breaking ranks and expectations that I wanted to reach,
But with leaving the straight line history as I drew, I was wrong
I confess I forgot every tradition was once an interruption never near perfect, that once a rebellion, once a fragile seed of risk that is never always perfect.
I believe truth has no gatekeeper, no monopoly, no guard at the door saying, “only for the few are chosen, no broken promises as you just do believe
I believe wisdom belongs to anyone willing to seek it despite of broken hopes, even if their shoes are muddy, even if they arrive torn and tired everyday
I believe the best way to honor those who came before us is not by kneeling, but by walking further towards their path and being able to go beyond
I believe that the path widens when courage meets humility, as long as when we experiment without losing respect to their values and learning…
So I choose to carry the map ahead, but also keep my own pencil to also draw my own path ahead and at the same time honoring my own story
I choose to honor their guides and lessons, but remember I was born to move too through the mountains that are given to me, my own path ahead
I choose to see today’s strange ideas despite of how uncommon it is, as tomorrow’s traditions waiting for breath to see the future and still willing to return to humility
I choose to blaze gently, to keep learning, to keep believing, to keep on trying but not to fear being the first—or the last one standing…
Watchword
• Truth is never owned by one voice only
• Every tradition was once rebellion of the past
• Respect, but keep experimenting your future
• Blazing gently is still blazing ahead
• Every guide invites your step towards your story
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
