The rope broke.
I realized it on the floor. Something was wrong with my wrist.
Everything after that happened fast. Emergency surgery. Recovery. Being told to slow down.
I wasn’t used to that.
Before this, I thought I had a handle on things.
If I planned it right, I trusted it would work out. That carried into how I create. I like things precise. Light where I want it. Everything intentional. It made sense to me.
The fall didn’t feel like I did something wrong. It just happened.
And that was the part that stayed with me.
You can do everything right and still lose control of the outcome.
I started noticing that more, not just in my body, but in my work.
On set, things shift all the time. Setups don’t behave the way you expect. Timing is off. You adjust and keep going. I’ve always done that. I just didn’t really look at it that way.
Now I do.
I still care about precision. I still build things carefully.
But I’m less attached to forcing things into place. There’s always a part of it that doesn’t hold. Sometimes small. Sometimes not.
The difference now is I don’t fight that as much. I work with it.
Because I’ve felt what it’s like when something breaks and there’s no preventing it in that moment. You adjust, or you stop.
That’s it.
Control doesn’t mean what it used to.
