You’re going to mess up. The question is: how do you show up when that happens?

It's an age-old axiom: we all make mistakes. Younger and more arrogant, I used to think I could avoid mistakes. I would just make myself smart enough to at least make fewer mistakes.

And yet I've made more than I can count. I've learned there's just no avoiding them. There's often repeating them, even when we know what we're doing is a mistake. It's inherent to being human.

If we take that as fact -- that no matter what, we will make mistakes -- how do we deal with it? If we know we will wrong others, even with the best of intentions, how can we make things right?

Repair is a beautiful thing. The process of making a mistake, recognizing it, owning it, and repairing it builds trust. It builds trust not only between you and whoever you wronged but between you and yourself. It's also part of building a reputation within a community. People will know you as one who makes things right.

I've led music projects and bands throughout my life. Recently, I had a challenging situation with a band member. They took on some of our booking responsibilities. In the process, they got into a tiff with someone connected to events in the Bay. That event planner came to me and stated he would not work with me again so long as I worked with this person.

My bandmate didn’t just burn his own bridge with the event planner — he burned mine too. I took this very seriously. I had a conversation with the band member, and ultimately asked him to leave the group.

After thinking through it and consulting with others, I realized that my decision was hasty. My collaborator was doing his best, and he owned his mistake. The event planner had a reputation for being inflammatory and difficult to work with. I fired someone for a single mistake after years of contribution to the ensemble.

It was a mistake.

I reached back out to my former band member. We coordinated another meeting. We talked about what happened. I owned the hastiness of my mistake. I invited him back to join the group. I also acknowledged some dynamics I needed within the group to make it feasible to work together again.

We worked it out.

And in the process, we've built trust. We now have a history of resolving conflict together. We have gotten to know each other better. We have clearer agreements on how we can move forward together. And we did it all respectfully.

I've come to learn I’ll keep making mistakes.

I’m not proud of it — I wish I were more perfect.

But that’s not part of the deal. What I can control is how I show up when I do.

So here's my invitation: if you've made a mistake with someone, challenge yourself to own that and repair it. It doesn't have to be a pleading apology. It can be cheerful, firm, and early — it's about owning the mistake more than begging for forgiveness.

You may then find that there is power in making mistakes, so long as you choose how to show up for them.