Play Better Cello.

I sat on an upside down milk crate, weaving magical phrases on my cello that swirled up into the warm evening air. I had been playing solo Bach for about three hours straight, and my fingers were beginning to tire. I hoped that I would be able to pay my rent with the quarters and the dollars that I had collected.

Across the street and beneath the cherry blossoms, a man stood, captivated by the magic of the music. 

I was working on a master's degree at Manhattan School of Music by day and working the streets at night to pay my rent. I dragged my cello out there to Christopher Street a lot, and though I certainly loved playing, I definitely felt a lot of shame about playing on the streets. I thought it somehow meant that I wasn't any good at what I did. I thought if I could just learn to play perfectly, then maybe I could break into the high brow performing world of classical music and get off the streets. To finally dress in black velvet and perform on well lit stages for sold out audiences. That was my dream.

After completing the Bach, I took a breath and a few swigs of coffee that was laced with blackberry brandy. And then I launched into the opening theme of the Stamitz Viola Concerto.

I played that Stamitz brilliantly, ornamenting the melody with rich chordal harmonies, and adding lightning fast scales and arpeggios to the ends of phrases that had never been there before.

I looked up mid-phrase to see that my sophisticated music loving guy was still there, smiling and swaying to the beat in the moonlight.

I realized then that I had told a fantastic story on my cello, and that my story had touched someone.

My arms were exhausted. And my brain was foggy from exertion.

But I felt really good. Satisfied. Content.

On that warm night, in the heart of the greatest city in the world, for the first time, I knew that I had done something spectacular. 

And it had nothing to do with where I was playing, or for whom. 

I smiled and collected my money…

I know that there are lots of you cellists out there that aren’t playing as you would like to be. Maybe you are wondering if you will ever be good enough to be recognized as a serious cellist, or if anyone will ever feel touched by your music. Maybe you just aren't playing the music that you dream of playing...

But here’s what I learned from playing on the streets of New York City: When you actually show up, play your heart out and share your music with the world, that’s the magic right there. Sharing who you are in that moment...with whoever is listening. 

It doesn’t matter where you play, or who you play for. 

If you just find the confidence to tell your story, as you are in that moment, the people will listen.