I notice the dull familiar, I admit how quickly life becomes just a background, how the newness fades and I start moving through days without actually seeing every detail,
i notice the dull familiar, I catch myself doing everything on automatic, then feeling strangely empty like my body showed up still my mind stayed elsewhere,
I notice the dull familiar, I confess there’s comfort in routine, but there’s also a quiet danger when routine becomes a cage I never question,
I notice the dull familiar, am I living on default because it’s easier, or because waking up would demand more of me,
I notice the dull familiar, I open my eyes and let the day feel real again…
I return to the small things, I remember how attention once made the ordinary glow, how my senses widened and I felt fully alive inside my own skin,
I return to the small things, I confess I narrowed my attention to survive busy seasons, and forgot that aliveness also requires noticing,
I return to the small things, I confess I miss being present, but presence scares me too, because it makes me responsible for what I’m choosing,
I return to the small things, can I return to my senses without turning life into overwhelming playground,
I return to the small things, I stay with one ordinary moment long enough for it to become vivid on its own…
I question my pull toward autopilot, I notice how my mind prefers shortcuts, replaying the same reactions before I’ve even chosen them,
I question my pull toward autopilot, I admit I let old patterns write the script and then resented the ending for lacking depth,
I question my pull toward autopilot, I admit my daily patterns sculpt the limits I assume are real, and that awareness feels both sobering and empowering,
I question my pull toward autopilot, am I willing to rewrite my defaults even if it feels uncomfortable at first,
I question my pull toward autopilot, I choose one small change and commit to it long enough to let it alter me…
I break the right-way trance, I notice how I learned to fear mistakes, like there’s one correct method and anything else makes me foolish,
I break the right-way trance, I admit I’ve followed the safe path just to avoid being judged, then wondered why my work feels flat and too ordinarily predictable,
I break the right-way trance, I confess I want to experiment, but part of me still craves permission, and it hurts to realize I’m the one withholding it,
I break the right-way trance, am I brave enough to try the unfamiliar path without needing certainty first,
I break the right-way trance, I step off the track and let myself explore the rest…
Watchwords:
Life becomes background and I stop seeing,
Routine becomes a cage I never question,
Presence scares me, makes me responsible,
Am I willing to rewrite my defaults,
I step off the track and explore,
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
