Standing at the brink of a new beginning, I feel the same old terror, yet exhilarated by the path ahead, guided by enduring memories,
Standing at the brink of a new beginning, I can feel the absence of the thing I finished pulling at my wrists, but now my heart is the one pulling me,
Standing at the brink of a new beginning, carrying the residue of what I let go — a warmth that feels like grief, but warmth that aligns everything,
Standing at the brink of a new beginning, the question is almost unbearable — what if I can't create another the next one this much,
Standing at the brink of a new beginning, I choose to begin anyway, which is the only kind of courage I have that makes me wake up every morning…
I keep learning, that the completion is not a wall, it is a doorway I walk through bending, adjusting and learning everything that needs to be learned,
I keep learning, that done is not the opposite of alive, it is what aliveness accumulates towards every paths that excites you,
I keep learning how to be finished without being emptied, offered without being erased, and still standing without draining,
I keep learning, and I need to ask myself — what do I want the next work to teach me about myself, allowing myself to be myself each and every day,
I keep learning that the work I release becomes something I can no longer protect, I needed to become something for this world…
The act of letting go didn’t feel like freedom; instead, it felt like laying down something crucial in the darkness that is still unimaginable,
The act of letting go took everything — my attachment to the outcome, my need to be understood, and the timeline needed to become someone,
The act of letting go required me to trust that the creation I had made possessed enough life force to endure and thrive independently of my presence,
The act of letting go keeps prompting me to be honest — do I genuinely believe in what I’ve created, or am I only invested in the process of creation itself,
The act of letting go is still ongoing, even now, even here, even with this breath, even in this lifetime that I didn’t intend to hold.
And still I make and create, because the alternative is a silence I do not know how to survive shutting it down,
And still I make and create, even knowing the act of speaking my thoughts will ask me to pay the same price all over again,
And still I make and create, even knowing the release to experience failure all over again will feel like another grief dressed in the clothes of learning,
And still I make and create, asking myself the only question that matters: is what I build embedded in my soul that will guide me even in my next life,
And still I make and create, and releasing until I find satisfaction that doesn’t demand more changes, only trust that what I’ve made is more than enough…
Watchwords
Done is what aliveness accumulates toward,
Setting down something essential in the dark,
I trust what I made has life without me,
Grief dressed in the clothes of relief,
I let it go, and I begin, and I let go again,
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: