Returning to CIM to perform seven years ago, after having spent my first two years of college there, was extremely moving.

I went to CIM as a freshman when I was 16, moving full steam ahead on my solo career path. I won the school-wide concerto competition my first year there, playing the Glazunov Concerto. Looking back, that was an impressive feat as the youngest person there, although I just took it in stride at the time.

This was the first time in my life that I was surrounded by people like myself on a regular basis (other than my family and teachers) who loved art and were interested in music in the serious, all-consuming way that I was.

My first two years of college were golden! I felt liberated, appreciated, and like I finally belonged.

At the same time, however, I was completely unaware of the internal pressure I was placing on myself, which was reflected in the intense competitiveness in the world around me.

I loved it and thrived in the new experience and the success I was having, so I didn’t realize how it was affecting me under the surface. All the tension just felt completely normal and familiar to me.

As an adult, many years later, having gone through quite a lot of life experience, I returned to perform there as a professional.

Being in that concert hall and visiting the practice rooms and wandering through the halls before our performance suddenly felt completely overwhelming as old memories and feelings of being in that situation as a young teenager surfaced and hit me full blast with a level of tension that I had been letting go of through much deep inner work over the years.

Being transported back into that place, suddenly I was in touch with a deep layer of trauma that I hadn’t even known existed until that moment.

All of that made it difficult to play in the rehearsal as I became very emotional and worked hard to hide my feelings.

Thanks to some good friends that I was able to confide in a little bit on the spot about what was going on, including Emi Tanabe who is pictured with me here, and in great part thanks to my immediate application of the Alexander Technique, that difficult day became extremely healing for me and the evening’s musical performance was transcendent.

As a coach for musicians, I’m extremely aware of the trauma that many performers experience on a regular basis.

I didn’t even know until just last year (!) that there are so-called large traumas and small traumas.

I am incredibly grateful that I have not experienced what I would consider large trauma in my life. My life has been incredibly blessed with so much goodness, kindness, and love.

But sometimes many small traumas add up over time, and when taken together, can actually be more negatively impactful than some large traumas, according to experts.

How many musicians are living with accumulated small traumas, like I was, that they aren’t even aware of?

Traumas that lurk under the surface and cause an underlying tension and anxiety that end up sabotaging our best intentions as they can cause performance anxiety, relationship difficulties, and stubborn problems with technical skills that won’t be solved by endless hours of practice.

I’m so grateful I had the opportunity to go back to CIM seven years ago to be confronted with a trauma response that I was finally able to notice, feel, and process consciously for the first time.

As a coach and a teacher, I do my utmost to practice what I preach, and live what I learn.

We all do our best, and we all need a little help—or a lot— from someone who’s been there and who has found the light at the end of the tunnel.

If you’re still searching for the light, I’m here and would love to help you through to the other side, where things are far more free, easy, and joyful.

Just get in touch with me if you’re curious.