While waiting for seating in a crowded restaurant, I talked to a friend about my dormant talent. Poetry. It seems like I haven’t written a poem in forever. Though it was an activity that once brought me joy, it’s been to put to rest in the past. So it seems. I’ve blamed writer’s block, not having the time anymore, and just wondering if my talent isn’t there. Yet, I think I’ve been operating out of fear that it’s too late to craft new material and that what I produce won’t be good enough. I automatically fast forward to a worst case scenario: performing my poetry and the audience not getting or embracing my words. What if I wrote, though, just out of enjoyment, passion, and bravery for myself? What if I disciplined myself to strengthen my talent just like I tend to current priorities? I don’t want to one day reflect and realize that I failed to maximize my gifts and talents. Instead, I want to cultivate and embody them, not out of a desire to please people, but to live and love fully with all I have been uniquely given.