Make Your Mistakes Big


The little blonde girl taps her rhythms. She takes a break from her piano song. Notes and melody fall apart over her broken rhythms. The only way back is to feel the pulse with the teacher.

We start. Our eyes scan the printed page. When she falls off she stops and catches up to where I am. I keep going no matter what. She starts big and strong. But eventually her movements get smaller, quieter and tiny. Only the tips of her hands move now. I can’t tell what’s happening.

“Keep your arms big,” I urge while trying not to stop the song.

A little better.
Then tiny motion again.
“Strong rhythm…”
And then, finally I stop.

“Make your mistakes, BIIIIG!……”
I use a funny voice, stretching my hands wide to emphasize “BIG”.

She laughs at the voice.
She laughs at the absurdity of a teacher telling her the opposite of what most of us adults say to kids.

Make mistakes.

Make them big.

Humor breaks the spell of perfectionism. Her confidence buoyed. Less distracted with pleasing me. Freedom helps us soar.

Freedom to be herself.
Freedom to be confident.
Freedom to hit a wrong note.

She doesn’t know it, but she needs these wrong notes. She NEEDS to make mistakes to improve. And don’t we all need mistakes to improve. Even Beethoven at one time had to learn a new skill. A skill he didn’t have. A skill he faltered at. Bad hand shape. Weak finger strength. Faulty rhythm.

To succeed at learning a new skill you HAVE to make mistakes.

But to be honest, that student is a lot like me. I have played small. Afraid that I couldn’t keep up with the right life rhythms. I have played smaller and smaller.

Deeper relationships seem tricky? Easier not to say anything. To pass on that social gathering that would stretch me in a good way.

A new idea for business seems scary? Easier to pass on that necessary risk. And wonder, “What If?”

Next creative project seems daunting? I wonder if someone else could do a better job. But the idea still nags me.

So we will be the first ones. The first ones to offer grace to each other and say,

“You can make your mistakes BIIIIG with me.”

We will not freak out that we are all just figuring it out. And pick ourselves up and keep going.

Let’s give each other a chance



So when the little blonde drops her perfectionism at the door with her shoes and school bag – maybe I can too.
I might just have a chance to make music.


Photo credit Jesse Orrico

Floodplain Album Review

www.saragroves.comA few weeks ago I interviewed Sara Groves about her new album. Our conversation led to this album review for The Rabbit Room.

Sara Groves’ latest release, Floodplain, is an invitation through means of honest lyrics and lilting melodies, not just to hear what she says, but to see what she sees.

The album’s theme is expedition. From the first track, “This Cup,” the storyteller wakes the listener from a dream and paints a picture away from the addictions that numb. Then the arc of the story begins in the next song, “Expedition.” The piano ostinato mirrors waves on the shore.

Meet me at the river, oh
Fashion us a raft and oar
We’re going on an expedition
Looking for lost time

Melodies and rhythm patterns from these lines weave throughout the songs that follow.

Read the rest at The Rabbit Room.

Feasting on Distances


My new normal is sitting in a waiting room at the lab draw facility surrounded by the very young and the aging. I am drawn to the older patients. They are the ones who look up from their devices and want to chat. They talk about their grandkids, “The Bachelorette”, clipping coupons, and gardens cucumbers. They seem unfazed by diagnoses and blood tests.