Unfamiliar Instincts Find My Hands

I remove my name from my work for a while because I’ve grown tired of prioritizing the protection of an identity over my authentic self,
I remove my name noticing how every label I wear quietly negotiates what I believe I am allowed to create from external validation,
I remove my name, grieving the invisible costume I kept repairing from the outside instead of asking whether it still belonged to me even on the inside,
I remove my name, am I serving this calling or serving the version of myself I need others to admire, validate and recognize,
I remove my name, recognizing what is really me and now, the silence feels strangely honest to accept that I am, who I am…

I abandon mastery, not because experience has no value but because it sometimes speaks before the moment has finished introducing itself,
I abandon mastery, watching old successes quietly volunteer answers to questions even if this season has never asked what is her true purpose now,
I abandon mastery, refusing to let yesterday’s victories become tomorrow’s unquestioned instructions giving the benefit of doubt despite knowing,
I abandon mastery, have I become too practiced to notice what is really asking to be born today, or too comfortable to what is already being done,
I abandon mastery, as I accept and see what’s more to be done, these unfamiliar instincts find my hands and my soul…

I protect play, against the serious voice insisting every attempt must justify itself before it deserves to exist in my present,
I protect play, remembering how fear slowly disguised itself as professionalism until I almost thanked it for the real prison that is being purposeless,
I protect play, because the most honest parts of me have always arrived laughing before they learned how to perform,
I protect play, have I been creating just to stay active or performing to stay accepted and keeping the initial image I once knew,
I protect play, thus also protecting my time for creation, and there my spirit forgets the audience…

I choose curiosity over expertise whenever both cannot coexist within the same heartbeat without one overpowering the other,
I choose curiosity, believing that every miracle first appears ordinary to the person who has stopped looking closely, and waiting for the real miracle to happen,
I choose curiosity, letting this ordinary morning become the first morning I have ever truly witnessed, as though familiarity had been the only veil between me and wonder,
I choose curiosity, can I meet the chances of finding what’s for today before memory tells me what it already is,
I choose curiosity, and the world refuses to grow old around me, for life remains endlessly new to the inner child within willing to admit they have not seen everything yet…

Watchwords:
The silence feels honest until I truly listen
Unfamiliar instincts find my hands
My spirit forgets the audience as I continue
Everyday is the first morning of surprise
The world refuses to grow old until I choose to