The stick places you in the room with Confucius at Wei, striking his chime stones at home while the court ignores him and a passing woodcutter, of all people, hears the music for what it is. That is the mirror. You are not being told you lack ability, talent, or worth. The verse reflects back a quieter discomfort: the gap between what you know you can offer and the room that is currently willing to receive it. The woodcutter sees clearly. The duke does not. Both can be true at once.
A grade of 中平 here is honest rather than discouraging. It says the situation is uneven, not broken. Notice where your energy has been going lately, whether into the chime stones (the craft, the discipline, the small circle who actually listens) or into the audience that keeps not arriving. The frustration you feel is not a sign you have misjudged yourself; it is the natural friction of being early, or sidelined, or simply in the wrong court. The stick asks you to sit with that friction without letting it sour into resentment, and without abandoning the practice that makes you recognisable to the right woodcutter when one walks past.