You can do things on your own terms, in your own way.
Tina Guo and Hans Zimmer Live reminded me of something very important
Duck. Duck. Duck.
The repeated sound of the metronome translated to duck in my brain. I sat with the metronome on my music stand, some kind of classical sheet music in front of me, expression sullen. This was not an unusual scene in my teenage years.
I am now 30 years old. I have not given my cello as much as a glance for nearly a decade. I had ostensible decision-making power when it came to pursuing music so intensely as a teenager. I was told I was a good cellist—so I kept at it, practicing with what my heart was able to will me to do, but always felt as if my true personality were boxed away. I played music I never particularly enjoyed (you would never find me turning on the classical station on my own volition when I had radio privileges in the car). My demeanor and approach were misunderstood by many teachers. Some structure in musical training is important, but my training did not feel structured. It felt rigid. I frequently left music lessons in tears and confused.
For the past several years, I have avoided all things that remotely reminded me of my musical past. I’ve since created my own ritual in running that is indeed, somewhat structured in training, but in no way rigid. While some runs are better than others, I have never regretted a run. And yet, I have, many times, regretted music practice. Many of those practice sessions made me feel more lost and distant from myself than ever before.
K’s family warmly invited me to join them at the Staples Center Crypto.com Arena for Hans Zimmer Live. While I was familiar with Zimmer and his impressive film scores, I knew very little about the rest of his band. With so many impressive musicians on the stage, one in particular caught my deepest attention: Tina Guo.
As the band played the Wonder Woman theme, Tina rolled elegantly on stage, gently drawing out the electric cello behind her. Her makeup was impeccable for the moment. The black-silver theme and body paint were unmissable and kept me in awe the entire show. Her every move was aligned with the music, encapsulating the aura of a heroine. The cello was the vessel of her expression—and the vessel through which her music was released in the arena.
As a former cellist, it is not lost on me how many dull hours must have gone into her training over the past several decades to perform at this level—wielding the cello like a warrior with a rock musician’s fiery—all while playing perfectly in tune—and traveling day after day, displaying pure artistry at its finest in different cities across North America.
Seeing Tina step into herself so fully — playing an electric cello on her own terms, choosing her own mode of expression — floored me. While I had flirted with non-classical music during my last year of actual cello-playing, I did not have enough courage to play outside of the box.
I watched several clips of Tina performing at other venues for Hans Zimmer Live, and she shows up with the same gusto each and every time. She plays fearlessly.
Witnessing Tina perform didn’t inspire me to pick up the cello again, but it did remind me to step into my own power and my own passion for life. It reminded me that with discipline and self-commitment, I can do things with my whole heart—and on my own terms—especially if what I want to do is unfamiliar, unknown, and unmodeled for me. It was especially important for me to see another Asian woman—someone who resembled me—giving her artistry her fullest, in her own way.
We don’t have to approach our goals the way we’ve seen others approach theirs. We can reach our goals in our own unique ways.
We show up for ourselves in our own ways.
We are the only ones who allow the vision in our heads become reality.
Your musical journey is so relatable! I think a huge part of sparking that passion for music is having intrinsic motivation. So many people drop their instruments because they don't have control of their journey, and just play what their teacher tells them to, relying on extrinsic motivation like praise and parental pressure (me included, that's why I dropped piano and flute ha). You nailed that feeling of rigidity, it's suffocating. The reason I keep playing guzheng is because I chose it and made it mine. I play because it brings me joy and makes me feel free, and for you, running brings that same joy.