The My Daily Warm-Up Studio

TruthPulse: June 26

• Interlochen Reflections

📜 MISSION

There’s something sacred about watching young musicians stretch beyond what they thought they could do—when they’re not yet sure they are ready, they feel behind, but, they keep showing up anyway.

This week, I’ve been surrounded by that kind of courage.

Students who care deeply. Who push themselves.

Who wrestle silently with the fear of maybe not being enough.

And I remember.

I remember when that was me.

🎻 MESSAGE

Being around the students at Interlochen has brought a familiar ache to the surface—a tenderness for the parts of all of us that still fear we’re not enough. Not skilled enough. Not fast enough. Not ready enough.

It’s so easy for even the smallest sense of inadequacy to hijack the moment—like a splinter in the finger that suddenly dictates everything. The sensation takes over, and we find ourselves avoiding the music, the movement, the risk.

And yet—those very splinters can become the invitation to heal.

I remember being a student here back in 1991.

I had somehow made it in with the Ohio Governor’s Scholar award, but I couldn’t sight-read well at all. I was in side-by-side rehearsals and concert with the Detroit Symphony, and I was completely lost. My stand partner, a member of the Detroit Symphony, kept checking on me because I looked so panicked. I had no idea where we were. I kept giving her this wide-eyed, “Where even ARE we?” look. She’s like, “Again!?”

It was a turning point for me.

That moment of inadequacy didn’t crush me—it humbled me. It didn’t destroy me. It lit something in me.

It was the moment I said: No more pretending. I’m going to learn for real.

And I did. Slowly. Imperfectly. But truly.

And eventually… I became that woman (Emmanuelle Boisvert was the example to me then), standing at the front of the orchestra—twice—leading the same amazing orchestra, the DSO, mentoring side by sides, AND this week teaching and coaching students in the same space I was in 35 years ago.

The full-circle magic of that moment wasn’t about having had perfection or ever gaining it.

It was about presence. Heart. Spirit. Showing up again and again.

These kids have so much heart, and I believe that is the most important thing!

It’s not our polish that makes us powerful.

It’s our soul showing up inside the sound. I hope they carry that with them in everything they do.

It still feels surreal to be here reflecting on way back then, seeing where I am now, yet, knowing how much I am still learning.

But…maybe that’s the whole point:

We never truly “arrive.”

We keep becoming. We keep showing up.

And that fear of inadequacy doesn’t fully vanish—it transforms.

It becomes a teacher. A tender companion. A refining fire.

Being here again has reminded me of the quiet truth, one I’m still learning:

“You, too.”

The things I most want these students to know and carry forward, I remind myself…You are allowed to stand with dignity.

To claim your voice.

To be exactly where you are on the journey—and still be radiant.

It’s not perfection that stirs the soul.

It’s presence.

And that’s what these students have brought in abundance.

And what I’m still learning to bring, too.

📖 SCRIPTURE

“The Lord doesn’t see things the way you see them. People judge by outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.”

— 1 Samuel 16:7

“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”

— 2 Corinthians 12:9

🎻 A NOTE TO THE STUDENTS

If you’re reading this and you are/were part of this week—

I saw you. I heard you.

Your sound, your questions, your effort… it mattered. Deeply.

Wherever you go next, take this with you:

You don’t have to be perfect to belong.

Your heart already qualifies you.

I know what it’s like to feel like you’re behind.

I know what it’s like to wonder if you’re enough.

But I promise—what you carry is holy. And it IS enough.

So, play from your soul.

Even when it feels hard.

Especially then.

You are the reason I’m grateful to be back here.

You’ve reminded me of why I do this.

And I hope in some small way, I reminded you, too.