Performance is Reality (or vice versa)

Yesterday evening I played jazz with my friend Ra'anan, a pianist, at a restaurant in Jerusalem. I played baritone sax. I like to compare the baritone to a big, friendly dog. It's so big, it doesn't have to be aggressive to make its presence felt. But it's a heavy, clumsy instrument, and playing it standing up takes a lot of strength.
We performed about ten songs, a mix of standards, blues, and Latin. Ra'anan and I have been playing together for years, and we have performed in public a few times, but maybe now we've reached a new stage, when we'll be performing a lot more.
My concentration on the music is considerably more intense when I'm performing in public, even if the audience is mainly people who aren't really listening very carefully. I am inside the music in a way I can never be when I'm just listening to music. If I were a better listener, I would also be a better player.
Bringing your art, whatever it is, outside, putting it in front of other people, gives it a quality it can never have when it's only private. In theory or aspiration, I always try to play so that every note I play counts and matters (or, for that matter, so that every word I write matters). But of course that's something I can rarely achieve. When I play for other people, my intention is more powerful. At the end of the evening, I am both exhausted and exhilarated.