Ever since I was introduced to the concepts of “school” and “meeting new people” I became shy. I was probably just as introverted when I was a baby; I just don’t remember it. Once, in kindergarten, I was bullied when a mean classmate took my divider while we were taking a quiz. (In kindergarten, instead of separating us during a quiz, the teacher took these giant rectangles of cardboard that were folded into thirds and used them to cover your desk so no one could cheat. You would have one third on your left, one on your right, and one in front of you.) I remember just letting the bully grab my divider, mainly because I was too shy to say anything. I thought no one would want to help me since I didn’t have friends. One girl did help me and stood up to the bully before making sure I was okay (I was crying for some reason). After that, I realized that I had to make friends and branch out to new people, something I never wanted to do. The kindergartner who helped me and I were friends until middle school.
I couldn’t tell you exactly how old I was then, but I was pretty young. I never heard the name of the hall I performed at, but it was huge to me at the time. Every June before the pandemic, my piano teacher would host some sort of concert for his students, letting them experience the feeling of performing onstage, in front of an audience. Being the most introverted person I ever knew back then, I didn’t want to do it. While everyone else was warming up on the grand piano I was shaking and thinking of ways to fake an illness. Things only got worse when I realized that students performed in age order from youngest to oldest, and being one of the youngest students there, I was somewhere near the beginning of the program. I thought I was going to die when the concert started, thinking maybe this was a good excuse to not play. After all, you can’t force a dead body to play piano. As I was wondering how they were going to carry my dead body out of the hall, my mom pushed me forward, out of my seat and gestured towards the stage. I was confused so I sat back down. “It’s your turn. Go on—Daddy and I will be watching you!” “Am I dead yet?” I whispered. My mom looked shocked, “Of course not! Hurry up, they’re waiting for you!” As I walked down the aisle and made my way onto the stage, I was sure I was going to die there.
When I played the first note of my piece, I felt the world around me fade away, as if it were an old layer of paint chipping away from my existence. The new world that surrounded me was a world full of warmth and colors. It seemed to embrace me, as if it were telling me everything was okay. Everything seemed to flow gracefully, beautifully, nice and slowly. It was a calm state of peace. I felt like I could lie there forever, never needing to go back to the noisy, messy world full of billions of people to meet. I was so happy, it felt like a dream.
Just as I felt like I was drifting off to a peaceful sleep, the storm came. I probably should have noticed it; it was getting cloudier, it started drizzling slightly, it was gradually getting darker. I panicked, running away from the storm, running faster and faster as I realized I desperately wanted to go home. Well, at least back to where I started, I thought. The harder the rain fell, the faster I ran. I kept running and running, until I saw it. The place where everything started. I sprinted back to the field of happiness, where many more of my adventures were to take place. Feeling tired, I lay down, thinking about this quiet yet lonely world. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes only to realize I hadn’t returned back to my starting point —I had just finished my piece. I took my bow and ran back to my parents, excited to tell them about my journey. “Did you see it? Did you see it?” “Of course we did! You were amazing!” my mom exclaimed. “No, I mean the magical world where everything was calm and then there was the storm before everything was calm again.” “Oh yeah, that too.” My parents were already mesmerized by the next performer. I sat down, knowing that this little world was mine, and mine only. I knew that no one else would ever step foot in it. No one else knew about it. It was my secret.
Years later, whether it be performing to raise money for charities or meeting new people and starting new friendships, I always think about how that one performance helped shape my life in so many ways. I was no longer afraid of people and became more open to everyone. Just because people are listening to me doesn’t mean they are judging me; they could be listening for fun! And even when I performed at Carnegie Hall, I returned to that moment, to that world, where my music shaped the way I felt and the way others felt, changing our lives forever.
Link: https://youtu.be/lkhH4G0TT5w
I couldn’t tell you exactly how old I was then, but I was pretty young. I never heard the name of the hall I performed at, but it was huge to me at the time. Every June before the pandemic, my piano teacher would host some sort of concert for his students, letting them experience the feeling of performing onstage, in front of an audience. Being the most introverted person I ever knew back then, I didn’t want to do it. While everyone else was warming up on the grand piano I was shaking and thinking of ways to fake an illness. Things only got worse when I realized that students performed in age order from youngest to oldest, and being one of the youngest students there, I was somewhere near the beginning of the program. I thought I was going to die when the concert started, thinking maybe this was a good excuse to not play. After all, you can’t force a dead body to play piano. As I was wondering how they were going to carry my dead body out of the hall, my mom pushed me forward, out of my seat and gestured towards the stage. I was confused so I sat back down. “It’s your turn. Go on—Daddy and I will be watching you!” “Am I dead yet?” I whispered. My mom looked shocked, “Of course not! Hurry up, they’re waiting for you!” As I walked down the aisle and made my way onto the stage, I was sure I was going to die there.
When I played the first note of my piece, I felt the world around me fade away, as if it were an old layer of paint chipping away from my existence. The new world that surrounded me was a world full of warmth and colors. It seemed to embrace me, as if it were telling me everything was okay. Everything seemed to flow gracefully, beautifully, nice and slowly. It was a calm state of peace. I felt like I could lie there forever, never needing to go back to the noisy, messy world full of billions of people to meet. I was so happy, it felt like a dream.
Just as I felt like I was drifting off to a peaceful sleep, the storm came. I probably should have noticed it; it was getting cloudier, it started drizzling slightly, it was gradually getting darker. I panicked, running away from the storm, running faster and faster as I realized I desperately wanted to go home. Well, at least back to where I started, I thought. The harder the rain fell, the faster I ran. I kept running and running, until I saw it. The place where everything started. I sprinted back to the field of happiness, where many more of my adventures were to take place. Feeling tired, I lay down, thinking about this quiet yet lonely world. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes only to realize I hadn’t returned back to my starting point —I had just finished my piece. I took my bow and ran back to my parents, excited to tell them about my journey. “Did you see it? Did you see it?” “Of course we did! You were amazing!” my mom exclaimed. “No, I mean the magical world where everything was calm and then there was the storm before everything was calm again.” “Oh yeah, that too.” My parents were already mesmerized by the next performer. I sat down, knowing that this little world was mine, and mine only. I knew that no one else would ever step foot in it. No one else knew about it. It was my secret.
Years later, whether it be performing to raise money for charities or meeting new people and starting new friendships, I always think about how that one performance helped shape my life in so many ways. I was no longer afraid of people and became more open to everyone. Just because people are listening to me doesn’t mean they are judging me; they could be listening for fun! And even when I performed at Carnegie Hall, I returned to that moment, to that world, where my music shaped the way I felt and the way others felt, changing our lives forever.
Link: https://youtu.be/lkhH4G0TT5w
