1. “I’m afraid.” That’s what she told me. “I haven’t been able to open the violin case for a month now. I want to do it… I need to do it… I need to
prepare my recital for the coming exams… but I can’t take the violin out.”
This is how our meeting began yesterday. Or is 17 years old. She plays the violin in the music track at her high school, and she has been meeting
me now for over a year. For a long time, we haven’t spoken about playing or about the violin. Yesterday, the music burst into our session and
arrived fully fledged to claim what’s hers.
I asked Or what comes up in her when she pictures herself taking the violin and beginning to play. Before I even managed to complete the
question, I could already see the shrinking in her lips, her eyes, her hands, her throat and her chest. Or’s body reacted strongly to the mere
request to imagine herself playing, even before she physically picked up the instrument.
She immediately said that what she felt was frustration, expectation of and disappointment in herself, judgment and regret. She felt sure that
she could have been a much better musician by this time. She said she could hear this judgmental voice in her head speaking to her
relentlessly… telling her that her approach was lacking; that she would never be as good musician as the others; that whatever she might want
to try, it was already too late - that she was about to graduate from high school, and afterwards it would be that much harder to make any
progress.
These thoughts caused a great anger to rise inside her, at all the disappointments she had experienced in her life, and she felt great pain.
I asked her to stay with her grief, because after all, it was there, and any attempt to ignore it only provided it with more power. She cleared
space for her pain and tears fell down her cheeks. While she was crying, I asked her to imagine herself approaching the violin case, taking out
the instrument and beginning to play. “What is the feeling of playing while letting yourself be with your pain at the same time? The private
pain that has found a home in your heart?” She felt miserable. I continued: “And what would it be like to play while sending warmth to the
sadness and pain you feel, rather than ignoring it? What then happens to your music? Does the sound of your music touch you?”
At this point, the muscles in her face, her arms and the rest of her body started to relax. She stopped restraining herself; stopped opposing
herself; and agreed to knock down the walls that surrounded her. As soon as she allowed herself to be attentive to what she felt and to her
inner dialogue – which up to that point she had not been conscious to – she was able to hear the sound of the instrument.
She said, “The tone causes me to feel that I’m beginning to be honest to myself and willing to listen. When I give room to my vulnerability, it
forces me to register my feelings and prevents me from raising barriers.”
I told her that having agreed to knock down the walls that surround her, she was beginning to draw nearer to her own heart, to her actual inner
vibration. As soon as I told her that, something in her shrunk. One could actually see it: her eyes blinked more often, and the muscles in her
hands became rigid.
“What blocks your core?” I asked
“Uncertainty, horror, this whole life, one never knows what will happen: who will fall sick, who will die. You never know anything; it is even
difficult to love someone, because they may disappear, leave you or die.”
I asked her to envision herself as a baby crying in fear from not knowing, from the uncertainty in the big and enigmatic world. I asked her to
pick up herself, as a baby, to hug her, let her cry and at the same time love her in all of her heart. This was when the dam opened, and more
tears were shed. However, she did not retreat. She embraced her biggest fear with love and said: “When I offer love to my inner fear, the
uncertainty becomes bearable.” Her whole body suddenly relaxed, as if an enormous burden had been released from her shoulders.
Throughout the entire period of treating Or, I had never seen her muscles and her face so relaxed. Or is a talented and excellent musician. The
major difficulty for her is to relax her muscles, which tend to tighten up and become rigid without her being able to control it. She continuously
searches for ways to relax her muscles while playing. “I feel that this way, my playing will become more confident. I look forward to returning

2. home and playing while I leave space for the fear, the pain and the sadness. When I give them room, they become less controlling and direct
me towards something else. When I picture this, I feel that the tone coming out of my violin can excite me.”
We then went on to speak about how, when the core is able to express itself in the course of playing, one cannot compare between musicians,
because each core has a different story to tell, and something else to give – a unique and one-time frequency. She had heard these words many
times from different teachers, but they had never helped. However, this time, she felt throughout her whole body the profound meaning of
being herself. Simply herself. Liberated! Her face shone, her eyes softened, and joy returned to them.
Yesterday, I knew quite simply that a vast and profound process had begun. The world is full of frequencies that cause shrinking and social
poisons. However, even inside a world such as this, there exists an option to open up just a bit, each time, and send genuine greetings from
ourselves to ourselves. In this way, something deep inside us recognizes the importance we give to our connection with it, when we take our
instruments and begin to play. This option of wishing to connect with our inner voice, with the creator inside of us, with the sheer love inside, is
greater than the need to prove ourselves.