The missed note that taught me everything
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, hated it, disowned it, exiled it.
ReadEssays from 25 years of performing, and the work of learning to trust the flow state that was always there.
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, hated it, disowned it, exiled it.
ReadI wasn't managing my nerves. I was observing them with unconditional positive regard. The freedom was always available. It was underneath the fear the whole time.
ReadThe fear of the hard moment at the end reaches backward and grips you before you've played a single note. You begin already braced. Already clenched. Already fighting yourself.
ReadFor years, my honest answer would have been: as little as possible. I had learned, without ever deciding to, that the body was a problem to be managed.
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