I answer to the discipline of the art, I notice how my fear wants one universal rulebook, as if consistency alone could guard me from failure,
I answer to the discipline of the art, I admit I try to control the medium instead of collaborating with it, and the result feels strained because I never learned its natural rhythm,
I answer to the discipline of the art, I confess I’ve tried to force my work into someone else’s shape, then felt frustrated when it couldn’t breathe there,
I answer to the discipline of the art, am I using what this form uniquely offers or am I hiding behind what feels familiar, avoiding the deeper commitment it actually requires,
I answer to the discipline of the art, I let the material lead me back to its natural rhythm, surrendering my control long enough to remember that mastery begins with listening…
I loosen my grip on imagined in worst-case endings, I notice how my mind loves to predict betrayal, ridicule, rejection, and then I start acting like those things already happened,
I loosen my grip on imagined in worst-case endings, I admit I’ve created distance and confusion by bracing for harm, and it’s painful to see I helped build what I feared,
I loosen my grip on worst-case endings, I confess I don’t want to be ruled by dread anymore, because dread hardens my voice, and that hardness cuts people who never meant me harm,
I loosen my grip on imagined worst-case endings, can I pause long enough to see what truly happens before I begin paying for pain that does not yet exist,
I loosen my grip on imagined worst-case endings, I soften my stance and anchor myself in now, trusting what is in front of me more than what my mind invents…
I keep my impulses leashed, I notice how one unguarded moment can scatter the progress I’ve made, and that recognition sharpens my awareness without crushing me,
I keep my impulses leashed, I admit I’ve blamed circumstances for outcomes I helped create, because owning my part feels heavier than blaming the world,
I keep my impulses leashed, I confess self-control is not a personality trait for me, it’s a daily practice I keep failing and dream of returning to,
I keep my impulses leashed, will I pause long enough to choose the response I can truly live with,
I keep my impulses leashed, I choose the slower answer and breathe, reminding myself that patience is not weakness but strength under control…
I construct from quiet conviction, I notice how easily doubt finds me at the start, and fear loves that timing, because what is newly formed has not yet built its armor,
I construct from quiet conviction, I admit I must protect what is newly made from my own impatience, because my demand for perfection has spoken louder than my commitment to growth,
I construct from quiet conviction, I confess I want my truth to arrive in a form that feels like mine, not perfect, not safe, just mine and truly alive,
I construct from quiet conviction, am I willing to defend the tender draft from my sharpest critique until it has earned its backbone,
I construct from quiet conviction, I keep creating and refuse to side with doubt, anchoring myself to the steady rhythm of effort until belief becomes embodied strength…
Watchwords:
I helped build what I feared, bracing,
Dread makes me sharp, and unkind,
Self-control is a daily practice, returning,
Fear loves to stomp on beginnings,
I refuse to betray myself first,
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: