I am not a puppet, I sit with myself long enough to feel the pull of my impulses, and I finally admit how easily I’ve allowed them to steer my day, as if I’m not the one in control,
I am not a puppet, I notice how one craving, one mood, one small irritation can pull me off my path, and I hate how familiar that surrender feels,
I am not a puppet, I confess I’ve called it “just being human” when really I was avoiding the harder work of choosing my own response and staying steady,
I am not a puppet, why do I protect my impulses more than I protect the life I keep saying I want,
I am not a puppet, I stay with the breath long enough for the urge to loosen, and I reclaim my center…
With an old mind and a new spine, I envision myself older and experience a quiet sense of shame because I don’t want to reach that age, still being controlled by every impulse that comes my way,
With an old mind and a new spine, I admit I’ve complained about my present and feared the future like it’s a habit I can’t stop, even though it never makes me safer,
With an old mind and a new spine, I see how my worries pretend they’re wisdom, when sometimes they’re just fear trying to feel important in my chest,
With an old mind and a new spine,am I willing to stop rehearsing dread and start practicing calm control,
With an old mind and a spine that finally holds, I choose steadiness over urgency, humility over display…
I stop complaining, I catch the way my mouth and mind look for something to blame the moment life feels heavy, as if blame could lift the weight off my shoulders,
I’ve stopped complaining,I confess that I’ve used complaints like a blanket—warm, familiar, and suffocating because they make me feel right instead of responsible,
I stop complaining, I notice how it keeps me stuck in the same story, the same tone, the same tired loop where nothing changes except my mood,
I stop complaining, what if my silence, held with intention, outweighs every argument I could make,
I stop complaining, I let the moment stand, and I endure it with calm, not performance…
I take the first step, staring at the blank space where my work should begin, I admit that I’m scared, not of the effort itself, but of what my effort will reveal about me,
I take the first step, and I feel the bruising self-doubt rise like a wave and I hate how I still treat it like a prophecy instead of a fleeting feeling,
I take the first step, I confess I’ve waited for a perfect mood like it would rescue me from being ordinary and uncertain,
I take the first step, and even if my hands are shaking inside, I’ll put one word in front of the next
I take the first step, making one humble mark and letting it carry me forward…
Watchwords:
I am not a puppet, I return
Old mind, new spine, choose steadiness
I stop complaining, silence can be stronger
I take the first step, let it count
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..
As and will always be reminding you to dream: