I have people in my life who remind me daily that gratitude is a practice, one that can change my outlook whenever I tune into it. I usually have two entry points: one is the present moment, and the other is hindsight. I include both so I can consciously weave together the memories and impressions that have shaped me, and so I can find a calm moment to savor all that is good right now.
What does gratitude have to do with music?
What does music have to do with dignity?
I have found that so much good comes from tuning in regularly, in a world that demands so much outward-facing activity and attention. There are many ways to develop our inner world, but music, for me, is unique. It's a multi-tool for the mind. It lights up so many parts of the brain, calling on multiple skills in a synchronized, all-in type of focus. It’s physical, mental, emotional, and at times even mystical. There’s a reason why we walk away from a music session feeling lighter, clearer, and generally hopeful.
It’s never too late or too early to cultivate inner capacity, but it's not the easiest thing to prioritize.
The bad news is: it’s on us to choose practices that require us to slow down and listen.
The good news is: it’s never too late to strengthen our daily habits and experience positive results.
Often, it’s very small moments stacked over time that create a new trajectory.
After decades of working at the piano, I’ve realized that practicing music has shaped my very ability to “tune in.” It has rewired my attention, patience, and curiosity. And those same qualities spill into every area of my life. Not always! But often enough that I can’t imagine life without this music-informed inner architecture. I’m grateful for the influence music has had on my life — for the teachers who sat beside me, for the lessons that illuminated something new, and for the chance to pass the love of music as broadly as possible.
Here’s where dignity comes in.
Most musicians I meet share two qualities: humility (did I sound okay?) and gratitude (I can’t believe I get to do this!). From that place, generosity naturally flows, along with a desire to share joy through sound.
Musicians who become teachers have lived through so many layers of experience. Compassion opens up when we remember what it was like before we internalized and mastered the very thing a student is discovering today. We’re not that different, just farther along on the journey.
Through my own process, conversations with colleagues and mentors, and working with hundreds of students I’ve observed that learning thrives under four conditions:
A calm pace to allow the mind to wrap around something new — no pressure, no rush
Non-judgment from inside or outside to let ourselves be not good at it yet
Curiosity as an entry point for what to do next
Radical belief that it will click if we stay with it and have the right information
Teaching from this place of gratitude creates a common ground of dignity, where students and teachers learn with one another through guided exploration. Encouragement is the thread that connects us. It keeps the vitality in the learning and the humanity in the teaching.
For young students developing rapidly across many domains at once, this type of learning experience builds a sturdy confidence that doesn’t depend on approval. For adults continuing or returning to music learning, the chance is there to rewire their relationship to creative risk.
I can recall lessons as a student where all I felt was pressure. The pressure turned into tension, and the tension locked up access to the very system I needed to perform. I’d be battling my way through a piece of music without the tools to approach it any other way. This inner power struggle — harsh thought → more tension → harsher thought — wasn’t how it started, it was what developed over time. And it’s why I’m so passionate about sharing what did eventually work for me, and sharing honestly about what really didn’t.
The dignity of learning music is simply that every attempt counts, every note matters. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s how we meet ourselves in the process.
Every lesson, rehearsal, and performance offers a chance to practice resilience, awareness, and courage. And those same qualities carry far beyond the studio into how we live, listen, and lead.
The process of building a community around music learning is complex and intricate, bringing together many perspectives and personal histories. My story is one of many. Together, we get to reflect and choose what uplifts, what inspires, and what lets us shine. Witnessing each other’s progress and celebrating wholeheartedly creates the kind of environment that nurtures growth through respect. Dignity is a quiet presence that says: it’s okay to take your time.
And it reminds us: Your creativity is valuable. Your voice matters.