text: Play what is in the heart – Terry Hershey
  Some movies are worth watching again and again.
  In 1979, violinist Isaac Stern visited China. His month long trip is recorded in the Academy-award-winning documentary, From Mao to Mozart. Stern expresses gratitude to the Chinese people (who issued the invitation for a "cultural visit") telling them that "we are meeting first as musicians, and then as friends."
  With a disarming smile, Stern connects with every student he encounters. He knows that inside each student is not just talent or technique, but a song. In one tender and inspirational scene, a 12-year-old girl plays her violin with concentrated and technical perfection (not only to Stern, but to an auditorium packed to overflowing).
  Stern stops her and says, "Okay. Now. Sing the beginning to me."
  It is no longer about precision
  I have never possessed that kind of technical–musical or otherwise–brilliance. But I do know what it is like to grow up in a world where one lived in fear of letting someone down. I was raised in a church environment where being wrong had eternal consequences. "Be ye perfect," the Bible told us. Which we interpreted as "without any blemish." Of course, I was not, am not, nor will ever be, perfect. But then, that's the conundrum. And the implication: Somehow, an imperfect Terry is not enough. (I too, have spent my life trying for concentrated and technical perfection…)
  Regardless of our background, we're all familiar with the messages which bombard us daily. And they are not subtle. They tell us who we "should" be. They tell us who we are "supposed" to be. (The irony is that "they" are in our head.) And they tell us that whoever we are, it is not enough. But then… that's the downfall of perfection: Even perfect is never enough.
  If I am feeling guilty about not hearing or living the music, I cannot luxuriate in the beauty of the heart. The beauty of my heart.
  Have you seen Mr. Holland's Opus? About Glenn Holland's lifetime of teaching music to a high school band. In one scene he is giving a private lesson to Gertrude. She is playing clarinet, making noises that can only be described as other-worldly. He is clearly frustrated. As is she. Finally Mr. Holland says, "Let me ask you a question. When you look in the mirror what do you like best about yourself?"
  Or I can make the choice not to wait. I walk the garden and spend time on the patio. The flowerbeds–still undone from last week's storm–are a muddle. I smile at the great clumps of Japanese Anemone, prostrate into the lawn. It's not easy to give up the need for perfection. Perhaps I needed to hear Stern's gentle urging, "Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid. Just sing the beginning to me."
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