The parallels between this experience and what many women leaders face daily struck me immediately. How often do we walk into boardrooms, executive meetings, or new leadership roles questioning if we belong? Wondering if we’ll let others down or slow progress?
Before even playing a note, I was doing what I coach my clients to avoid – making dangerous comparisons. When we compare ourselves to those with more experience or different skills, we diminish our sense of self-worth. Yet comparing ourselves favorably to others can breed overconfidence that masks areas for growth. Both extremes disconnect us from our authentic contribution.
The transformation happened during our first shared meal. In that moment of genuine connection, I let go of comparisons and found myself at home with these fellow musicians. I realised my contribution, however simple compared to others, was still valuable to our collective sound. This mirrors what I’ve observed working with women leaders – when we stop questioning our right to be at the table and instead focus on the unique perspective we bring, everything shifts.
Throughout our practice sessions, tutorials with coaches, and preparations for the final concert, I wasn’t focused on being “as good as” everyone else. Instead, I concentrated on showing up fully, improving my technique, and contributing to our ensemble’s harmony. The concert arrived, and yes, I made mistakes. I had performed better in practice. But what mattered was that I showed up and performed to the best of my ability in that moment.
This experience crystallised something I often share with my clients: mastery isn’t about perfection. Whether in music or leadership, true mastery comes from practicing with purpose, receiving feedback openly, collaborating generously, and performing with presence – even when conditions aren’t ideal.
The women leaders I work with navigate constant pressure on their time and energy, face uncertainty daily, and manage countless distractions pulling them off track. Like musicians preparing for a concert, they must distinguish between what deserves their focus and what’s merely noise.
What would change if you approached your leadership like a musician approaches a performance? If you recognized that occasional missed notes don’t define your contribution? If you saw preparation not as eliminating all possibility of error but as building the resilience to continue with grace when mistakes inevitably occur?
As I reflect on those five days away, I’m carrying forward lessons about how to prepare differently, approach practice and feedback with greater intention, and most importantly, who I want to be when it’s time to perform. The most accomplished musicians I met weren’t those who never missed notes – they were those who remained fully present regardless of what happened.
Perhaps our greatest impact, both in music and leadership, comes not from flawless execution but from authentic presence and the courage to contribute our unique voice to the ensemble, even when we’re still mastering the piece.
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