I grew toward the light that someone else had already found; I notice how I copied what I admired before I understood why it moved me,
I grew toward the light that I admit I borrowed shapes and rhythms like my own training wheels, because my own voice felt too small at first to carry a full ride,
I grew toward the light that I confess there’s tenderness in being a beginner, but also embarrassment, maybe I just want to look original before I’ve really earned it,
I grew toward the light that can I respect my early adaptations without letting it become my final home,
I grew toward the light that I thank the teachers and still keep walking toward my own path…
I inherit the idea into my own hands, I notice the shift when I stop tracing outlines and start bending the work through my own wounds and full continue to wander,
I inherit the idea into my own hands, I admit I worry someone will say it isn’t unique, even though my life has already altered the way I carry my own story,
I inherit the idea into my own hands, I confess I want my work to sound like me all the time on a tired day and on a brave day, not like a mask I wear for someone else’s approval,
I inherit the idea into my own hands, am I willing to risk being disliked in order to remain true to who I am,
I inherit the idea into my own hands, I keep rewriting until the words pass through my own bruises and joys and return with a voice that is mine,
I collect the small little fragments, I notice inspiration hides in ordinary places, in overheard lines, in old packaging, in a dream that sometimes fades by breakfast,
I collect the small little fragments, I admit I used to ignore these crumbs because they felt too random, but randomness is sometimes where my own needs sneaks in,
I collect the small little fragments, I confess my mind is a messy drawer, and my job is to pick one honest anchor and build my own spaces around it,
I collect the small little fragments, can I trust the tiny dots to lead me somewhere that is reality mine to see,
I collect the small little fragments, I gather them gently and begin letting them settle into a form that makes quiet sense,
I guard my inner freedom, I notice desire can trap me just as fast as anger can, because both make me reactive and both make me forget the choices I carefully made,
I guard my inner freedom, I admit the world can’t always block my plans, but my own labels and impulses can, and that’s the part I can actually change and control,
I guard my inner freedom, I confess I want steadiness more than intensity, and peace more than the thrill of constant reaction, even when my old patterns push back,
I guard my inner freedom, will I choose small achievements today instead of chasing another promise of making a thousand more,
I guard my inner freedom, I stay here with my life and let it be enough, because peace begins the moment I stop arguing with what already is,
Watchwords
Training wheels until my voice grew,
I reshape the idea through bruises,
Inspiration hides in ordinary places,
Pick one honest object and build,
I stay here with my life,
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
