There’s a hunger I’m trying to find beneath all the efficiency, it has been my guiding principle moving toward what I’m hungry for or just because it aligns with my daily routine,
There’s a hunger I’m trying to find beneath all the efficiency, something genuinely beautiful or strange or more fully alive than what I had been expecting and it would pull me forward,
There’s a hunger I’m trying to find beneath all the efficiency, underneath the management and the output, the well-organized calendar without the kind reminder of hunger that it was originally asking for,
When was the last time something genuinely surprised me, moved me, or opened me in a way I couldn’t immediately incorporate into my own existing story,
There’s a hunger I’m trying to find beneath all the efficiency, the hunger for aliveness, and I have been pretending for too long that producing more is the same as living more fully in the direction the real hunger is pointing...
The beautiful and challenging things I’ve been meaning to spend time with, that season hasn’t arrived, and I’m beginning to realize that the readiness I’ve been waiting for isn’t a destination I’m approaching; it’s a decision I’ve been postponing,
The beautiful and challenging things I’ve been meaning to spend time with are not obligations I owe to some standard, but rather, I want to perform the work now; then it becomes a source of pressure to either grow or become honestly clear about what it is and what it is not,
The beautiful and challenging things I’ve been meaning to spend time with have been replaced by the urgent, immediate, and easily consumed; now it became reasonable-sounding priorities that require more than a few minutes of sustained and uncomfortable presence,
What beautiful and demanding thing have I been deferring, although imperfectly and without ideal conditions, would this improve my attention quality beyond what my current plan can achieve,
The beautiful and challenging things I’ve been meaning to spend time with aren’t luxuries earned after work, instead, they’re the work that consistently produces the same thing at the same depth…
The conversations I select also play a role in the proofing process, while they may feel spontaneous and social, unlike the books I read or the work I consume, they perform the same internal work in a quiet and cumulative manner,
The conversations I choose are part of the proofing process, shaping how I see my own range and what I accept from others, making me ask if these ceilings and floors are ones I would choose on purpose,
The conversations I choose are part of the proofing process, the ones that moved were almost never comfortable but I thought I had settled the discomfort of the whole gift, though I didn’t always receive it gracefully in the moment still I need to accept openly,
Who am I currently spending the most time thinking with, and does our conversation raise my expectations for my own thinking, or does it confirm my existing beliefs in a satisfying but unchallenging way,
The conversations I select are part of the proofing process, and I have been treating intellectual nourishment as something that only comes from solitary and organized sources…
I’m not trying to develop a taste for its own sake, the ability to stand before my creations and honestly assess their quality without needing someone else’s validation, I want to know if I’ve reached the pinnacle of my potential or if I’ve stopped to push beyond my comfort zone,
I’m not trying to develop a taste for its own sake, but the internal instrument that makes the ten thousand small decisions within any piece of work—each decision made by an honest and well-fed instrument or by the habit, and minimal effort of one that hasn’t been developed,
I’m not trying to develop a taste for its own sake, but I want to distinguish the version of the work that is genuinely complete and between the version that is finished because I ran out of the specific kind of courage needed to push past the point where I became uncertain of my actions and still persisted anyway,
What can I make next week that I can’t make now, what specific thing do I need to spend time with, be honest about, or question in myself to make it possible,
I’m not trying to develop taste for its own sake, but the honesty to see what is good, what isn’t, and where I’m settling, and the real training is not grand but the daily, uncomfortable choice to face the question I keep avoiding and answer it without looking away...
Watchwords:
Feeding the hunger just enough to keep it quiet,
The beautiful things deferred until I was ready,
The ceiling of thinking set by who I talk to,
The one who refused to agree and was right,
Courage to push past where I became unsure...
Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, *“Who am I?”..*
As and will always be reminding you to dream:
*“As you are still the Master of your destiny and the maker of your dreams…”*
