The Biscuit Taken

Metaphorical Narrative

The table is set.
Tea is poured, biscuits sit in a neat plate.
Someone else takes a sip, smiling, at ease.

You sit beside them, watching, waiting.
The hunger in your body whispers: maybe they will notice.
Maybe they will offer.
Maybe today, you’ll be given permission to eat.

But nothing comes. The waiting itself is the old law.
So you move. You reach out. Calm, steady, ordinary.
A biscuit in your hand. Dip. Bite. Warmth and sweetness spread.

You’re not stealing. You’re not begging.
You are simply alive, and you take what is already yours.
The waiting crumbles. The biscuit remains.

Core Insight

The nervous system learned neglect as survival: hide needs, suppress hunger, hope someone else decides you’re worthy.
That law is false. Care delayed is care denied.
True care begins when you take it in your own hand.

Saturday Experiment

1. Make yourself a small ritual: tea, coffee, or water with a snack.
2. Place it in front of you. Sit for a moment as if waiting.
3. Then, without hesitation, reach and take. Bite, sip, taste.
   Notice the shift: the act of claiming, not waiting.

Sunday Reflection

• When this person sees someone else being served first, what old feelings surface?
• How does this person’s body respond when they no longer wait but take directly?
• What new law could this person write about their needs and care?