Issue 32  February 2nd 2026

From the Wings to the Waiting Room: Transferring Our "Stage Bravery"

To the NESA Community,

It doesn’t matter which hall you walk at NESA or which major defines your day. Whether you are prepping for a piccolo solo, perfecting a grand jeté, or obsessing over the precise construction of an elaborate set, we all know that familiar tightening in the chest.

As artists, we are in the business of vulnerability. We lay ourselves out to be judged and consumed by the public eye. In many ways, we are masters of fighting our own fears. But lately, I’ve been asking myself: Why is it so hard to transfer that bravery to the rest of our lives?

The "Surgical" Side of Anxiety

I’m not just speaking to the students; I’m speaking from the heart of my own experience. This coming Wednesday, I have a minor surgical procedure. I know it’s minor. I know that anxiety is a wasted emotion in this context. Yet, I still find myself caught in that familiar loop of "what ifs."

I have a coaster on my desk that reads: "Life begins at the end of your comfort zone." It is a wonderful sentiment, but that doesn't make it an easy one As I’ve analyzed my own nerves, I realized the problem: I have compartmentalized my bravery. I have a "Stage Box" where I am brave, and a "Life Box" where I let anxiety run the show.

Why Does This Happen?

Research into Performance Psychology suggests that artists often develop "state-dependent" confidence. We feel brave in the theater because we have a script, a costume, or a technical plan. When life throws us a "surgical procedure" or an unplanned hurdle, we feel exposed because there is no rehearsal.

The key to growth is opening those spheres and letting the bravery of the stage infuse the mundane (and sometimes scary) moments of reality.

The Practice of Self-Compassion

Is it easy? Ha! No. Do I backslide? Absolutely. But I’m learning a few things that I hope might help you, too:

Recognize the Loop: Don’t let anxiety be a silent passenger. Name it.

Stop the Double-Down: We often get anxious, and then get angry at ourselves for being anxious. This is "The Second Arrow." The first arrow is the event; the second arrow is the self-judgment. Drop the second arrow.

Use the Artist’s Eye: Treat your fear as a point of introspection. Ask it: “What are you trying to protect me from?”

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the assessment that something else is more important than fear." — Franklin D. Roosevelt

I write this because I know that so many of us—students and adults alike—carry these invisible weights. My goal this week isn't to be "fearless," but to be as brave in that waiting room as our students are when the curtain rises.

We are all works in progress. Let's keep growing together.