"A few weeks ago ten of us played in a handbell concert. We played 11 pieces for about 45 minutes. That Fluvanna has a handbell choir usually raises a few eyebrows. It sounds so genteel for a maximum-security prison. Especially if, you could see us standing in front of our row of glistening brass bells wearing our tie-dyed burgundy gloves that match our uniforms. (Bell ringers are required to wear gloves whenever in contact with the bells because the oils from our hands tarnish the bells). We do not quite match up to the famous Raleigh Ringers, but we do look surprisingly polished.

This concert was not our debut performance but it was our first ever full-length recital. We were all terrified and stiff and, therefore, grinned foolishly and tried not to wave too largely at friends and supporters. I am something of a control freak so I like things to be orderly and structured when I am getting ready to do elaborate bell changes in front of several hundred people. Instead we set up our equipment at the last minute in a bumbled chaotic way and had no time to warm up before our audience arrived. I think I hurt my face trying to appear calm.

I wish I could tell you that it went well. Everything imaginable that could go wrong happened. Calamity followed calamity. People forgot which bells they needed when we shifted positions. They scrambled in panic. We had to restart several pieces. A music stand fell over. Two of the bell ringers got into a loud contretemps in the middle of playing. If we had been one of those English stage companies that produce mad caper farces, we would have debuted as a hilarious new hit. The recital was a disaster in the strictest sense.

The weird thing is that instead of having a nervous breakdown, melting into the floor and hiding under the table in embarrassment, I started laughing and ringing ever more vigorously. More accurately, we all started laughing and ringing with abandon. We ended up having the most wonderful time.

Afterwards when people were congratulating us (our audience was very kind and generous to us!), the universal comment was: 'You guys looked like you were having a blast.' We did have fun! It reminds me of the power of playfulness, of joyfulness, of a good belly laugh. I seriously doubt no matter how well we had played, it would have ever satisfied that inner taskmaster who insists on perfection. If we had played brilliantly, I would have obsessed on how I flubbed my opening crescendo again. So our performance was not a fiasco I want to blot from my memory. I smile broadly every time I think of it; it was a debut performance in the surprising pleasure of surrendering control. Joy does not result from perfection but from the attitude of the heart." (Elizabeth Haysom, Fluvanna Review, November 11, 2004).

Elizabeth Haysom is presently incarcerated at the Fluvanna Correctional Center for Women in Troy, Virginia. This column is one of a series, published under the general heading 'Glimpses from Inside.'