Years ago, during a run of Into the Woods, there was a starting note. Exposed, solo horn. One matinee, I missed it. Badly.
I spent the rest of that performance furious with myself. Disconnected. Replaying it on a loop. By the end I wasn't really playing anymore. I was just managing my own shame.
It took me a long time, and a lot of inner work, to understand what actually happened that day. The missed note wasn't the wound. The wound was what I did next. I abandoned myself. I cut off the part of me that made the mistake. I hated it, disowned it, exiled it.
Disconnecting from yourself hurts more, and does more damage, than playing something wrong ever could.
We think the danger is the mistake. So we brace against it. We clench. We try harder. We perform from a place of fear, scanning for approval, bracing for judgment. And ironically, that bracing is what pulls us out of flow, which is exactly when the mistakes come.
What changed everything for me wasn't getting better at avoiding mistakes. It was deciding to stay with myself, no matter what came out. To stop abandoning the part of me that's scared, or imperfect, or human.
When you're truly connected to yourself while performing, the strangest thing happens. The notes mostly take care of themselves. And when one doesn't, it doesn't feel like a catastrophe. It feels like a moment. You stay. You return. You keep playing.
Stop stopping when you miss a note. Start noticing when you've left yourself, and gently come back.
That's the work.