Speaking & Concerts Music, Books, Workshops Newsletter Connect
- 11 Dec, 2025 *
During the height of covid and in the throes of grief after the loss of our fourth child, I found myself in a Target parking lot.
Like many during that time, I felt lost in a fog of anxiety and uncertainty. I felt numb—disconnected from myself.
As I left the store and reached my car, the sound of a violin came from across the parking lot. Like a laser beam, it broke through the fog, through my numbness, and to my heart. Tears and months of buried emotions flowed to the surface. I felt re-connected to…
Speaking & Concerts Music, Books, Workshops Newsletter Connect
- 11 Dec, 2025 *
During the height of covid and in the throes of grief after the loss of our fourth child, I found myself in a Target parking lot.
Like many during that time, I felt lost in a fog of anxiety and uncertainty. I felt numb—disconnected from myself.
As I left the store and reached my car, the sound of a violin came from across the parking lot. Like a laser beam, it broke through the fog, through my numbness, and to my heart. Tears and months of buried emotions flowed to the surface. I felt re-connected to myself, to my humanity, to life.
I never did see the player of that violin—but I like to imagine that whoever it was woke up that morning, said to themselves, “that’s enough,” and—despite feeling the same anxiety and uncertainty all of us felt during that time—got up, picked up their instrument, walked out into the world, and played.
Many of us have had similar experiences with music, or art. For me, that experience crystalized the importance of music and art, and of the artist to do their work.