A few weeks ago I performed my masters recital at Ithaca College.

I presented pieces by Bach, Mozart, Part, and Schnittke to an audience of close colleagues and dear friends. The overwhelming feeling I experienced during this recital was that of gratitude.

On the morning of the recital I sat at Gimme Coffee downtown and typed up seven lines of acknowledgment which were printed on the backside of my program notes and passed out at the recital. I bathed myself in memories of learning, the nurturing environment I grew up in, and the seemingly lucky events which, when piled up together, compose my life.

I expanded my mind from this moment, from this place, from the immediate goals and projects around me to all time, all life, all space.

These thoughts and feelings slowly coalesced into the lines I shared at my recital, and which I will share here…

• This program is not a demonstration of my skills and effort as a violinist, rather a demonstration of the selfless generosity many people in my life have extended. I cannot express in words the gratitude I have for the gifts, known and unknown, bestowed upon me– but I’m going to try.
• Thank you to you, audience members, who in being present today bring this music to life.
• Thank you to my mother, father, sister, and grandmother who, to this day, put up with my practice of out-of-tune double stops and unwaveringly support this work of mine (even when it’s not pretty or exciting).
• Thank you to my violin and pedagogy teachers, Susan Waterbury and Carrie Reuning-Hummel, who inspire me daily in the way they intentionally live out their lives and who both miraculously believe in and help facilitate the turning of my never ending ideas into realities.
• Thank you to my colleagues at Ithaca College for creating a rigorously rich musical environment brimming with musicianship, professionalism, and optimism.
• Thank you to my extended family in Ithaca, the community I am a part of, who teach me how to love effortlessly and live easily.
• And finally, thank you to my teachers of life, Yoshin David Radin and Khadija Marcia Radin, whose wisdom and patience have allowed me to see that in every breath the universe appears, and a violin “performance” is no different than a gentle inhale and exhale.

Finding and expressing gratitude for the miracle that is this universe — our life — is perhaps the most important thing we can do. The Dalai Lama says, “The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness.” Consider this as you hope to inspire goodness in your students.