Translator: Cristina Bufi-Pöcksteiner Reviewer: Ivana Korom
My life with music began because of my mother.
She was the ultimate tiger mum.
(Laughter)
Yes.
Her life mission was to make me a virtuoso pianist.
I practiced so much.
I practiced eight to ten hours a day,
before school,
after school,
sometimes taken out of school entirely,
just so that I could practice more.
Because I had this talent, this gift, I thought I had to be perfect.
This is me, performing at my very first concert, at age five,
before my feet could even touch the ground.
This is me and my mum after the concert.
There's my mum, watching my every move.
(Laughter)
There's me, already a little diva, trying to pull us in front of the camera.
Even then it was all about winning the competition:
"You've got be the best. First prize only.
Second prize? Not good enough."
This is about one of my first competitions.
As you can tell, that's me.
(Laughter)
Not the face of a first prize winner, no.
Second prize winner, standing next to the first prize winner
and her boyfriend.
(Laughter)
You know how sad I look?
I mean, seriously, I was so sad.
The fierce competitor that I was,
what did I do?
I stole her boyfriend.
(Laughter) (Applause)
Yeah.
(Laughter)
But seriously, as a young pianist,
your life is all about being judged in a competition,
compared to others,
and worst case, criticized for your performance.
Your whole self, your whole self-esteem is shaped by this very competitive nature.
Growing up, I had some very serious personal issues.
I had an eating disorder, I was bulimic.
I would stuff my empty self with food,
just so I could throw it all up.
You know, once on my birthday,
I actually ate the whole entire cake by myself.
Then I had this weird habit too,
like I would pull out my hair, while I'm practicing.
So a big chunk of my hair would just fall onto the keyboard.
Then I would scratch myself so hard, until I bleed.
I guess that I felt so numb inside, that I wanted to feel something.
It was all my dark secret, I kept it from everyone.
My parents didn't know and I felt so ashamed.
By high school, I had some serious issues.
This is me, at 16.
Yes, not a happy camper.
Honestly I thought I had burnt all my pictures around this time.
But of course my husband found it.
(Laughter)
And he's going,
"Is this like your heavy metal phase or something?"
(Laughter)
When I got to Juilliard - you know -
my life as a pianist defined who I was.
The feelings of my self-worth totally depended
on what the audience liked about my playing,
or, you know, competition judges liked about my playing,
or my teachers liked my playing.
On a good day, with a good performance,
it was fleeting.
I'm going, "Did they really like me? They really liked me!"
You know, leaving me with self-doubt.
But on a bad day, I felt like I was nothing.
I wanted to just hide under a rock,
just never come out and disappear.
I felt completely inadequate.
You know, life of a pianist,
99 percent of the time,
you will spend all alone in a practice room.
For that one percent of the time
where you're under the spotlight, in front of thousands of people,
on stage, where you need to execute.
So I thought,
the gift of music was me measuring up
to the standard of perfection on stage.
You know,
it's all about mastering the music with thousands of notes in my head.
You know,
executing every single note perfectly, technically and artistically.
But you know, you can't be perfect all the time.
It's just not possible, you can't get 100 per cent.
What was supposed to be a gift
was almost like a curse.
And it became this prison,
that left me filled with this emptiness, self-doubt,
and complete insecurity.
But then, I had this revelation, that changed me.
It started with my faith,
and it wasn't like overnight transformation, that happened.
It was a real awakening, that helped me lift out of this prison.
It happened when I went to Honduras, on a mission trip with my husband.
My mother-in-law is a missionary,
and she retired as a nurse and she decided to go to Honduras,
to help out the poor community with medical treatment.
Her organization asked me to play a Christmas concert.
I treated it like any other concert.
I prepared a Bach, Beethoven or Haendel, to show off my chops.
But then when I got there,
it was not at all what I had expected.
It wasn't like the beautiful cathedral, what I had imagined in my mind.
It was like this place, out of nowhere.
And there's no grand piano, not even a piano.
Just an electric keyboard.
And the most surprising thing
was the church congregation was 80 percent children.
What I learned later on is that this place, this church,
was essentially a shelter and school for these kids,
while parents were working.
This is the picture of Honduras.
I went right into classical pieces, you know, and the children were amazing.
They were really listening attentively, really enjoying music.
But then, when I started to play Christmas music,
when I played Silent Night,
they started singing, in Spanish.
It was so beautiful.
You know, these kids were so poor.
Some had no shoes, they were visually sick.
But when they were singing,
they sounded like angels.
At that moment,
when we were making this music together,
there was this joy, hope and life
and we were truly one in music.
You see, all my life, my thinking was
I was trapped in this thinking that music has to be mastered.
But then,
I realised that music meant to be served,
to bring hope, joy and life to others.
It's not about being perfect, it's not about you.
It's about how you make others feel uplifted and inspired
and touch people's hearts.
This led to my road to recovery to thinking differently about music,
and helped me lift out of this prison.
About four years ago,
I was given a greatest blessing of my life.
I had my son, Max.
I had a very traumatic delivery.
I almost died.
When you're faced with this very traumatic experience,
of nearly dying yourself and losing your baby,
your whole life perspective changes.
You know, I was so sick that I couldn't nurse my baby.
I had numerous infections,
I was so sick, I had high fever all the time.
One of the infections was so severe, that I couldn't sit or even bathe myself.
Thank God for my mum.
She came and just took care of my baby,
while my husband nurtured me back to life.
What kept me going around this time was this love, that I felt all around.
But what I really truly longed for, was just to be able to play music again,
because I wasn't able to, I couldn't sit.
You know, I'm thinking how I took it for granted
to be able to play this God's gift to humanity, this music.
That's a gift itself.
This, you know, when my heart and my mind,
we knew at that point that physically at my weakest.
I was so sick and in bed,
but I was feeling so grateful, just to be alive.
I wanted to do something.
I wanted to give back, because I have this life.
I'm happy to say that Max is doing great.
Here's Max's recent picture.
Happy boy with his daddy.
He's a happy boy now, because his mum is healthier
and a happier person.
After going through this traumatic delivery and everything,
you know, I felt so grateful that I wanted to give back.
I wanted to do something.
So I had my other baby.
I founded a charity:
Hong Kong Generation Next Arts.
Our mission is to support and nurture our next generation of young artists,
because I've been there,
I know, how tough it is to face all this fierce competition
and lonely hours of practicing.
I just want to say that, you know, it's OK,
when your performance may not be your best.
Or, it doesn't have to be perfect.
Just as you are.
I want just root, you know, for their passion and dedication
for these incredibly gifted young artists.
Here is HGNA, presenting a New York Carnegie Hall Debut
for Hong Kong's excellent young artists.
You know,
New York Debut Carnegie Hall is like a dream-come-true for any young artist.
We call this concert "From Hong Kong with Love."
Our young artists were all wonderful, fantastic.
It was a great success and we made sure
we didn't just feature the first prize winner,
but all prize winners.
You know,
with the standing ovation from the audience,
again, we were connected through music
and we became one in music.
We felt so much love from the New York audience.
Shortly after I founded the charity,
I met - a friend of mine, introduced me to Jackie Pullinger.
You know, Jackie is a famous missionary figure in Hong Kong.
She is now a pastor of my church.
She's truly my role model and my mentor.
You know, she was a musician, too.
She graduated from the Royal College of Music
in England,
as an oboe player.
In her twenties, she came to Hong Kong
and went into this notorious Kowloon Walled city.
It's like the haven for criminals and drug addicts and prostitution.
She helped them get off the drugs.
From the fifties through the eighties, it was completely ruled by triads.
She saved their lives.
She's truly amazing and one of faith.
When Jackie asked me to teach her boys from Saint Stephen's -
she's the founder of Saint Stephen's Society -
you know, I was feeling pretty scared, or reluctant, to say the least,
because Saint Stephen's Society is the rehab centre
for ex-drug addicts, ex-gangsters and troubled youth.
When she asked me, I was having this inner trouble
because, I mean, seriously, at that time,
I had just got over my traumatic delivery,
I had my seven-month-old baby
and I was still feeling sick from my infections.
When she asked me,
I was having this inner conflict, in my head.
I'm thinking,
"OK, you know,
I'm feeling so grateful, I want to give back,
but do I need to go that far?"
I mean, seriously, do I need to go that far?
You know, I don't know, with tough kids,
I don't even teach beginners, I mean, really.
So I'm going: gratefulness, fear.
You know, should I give, fear to try it.
You know, I am like -
But then I said yes.
Of course, when I met the boys,
there's this kid with a dragon tattoo,
watching me like this, staring me down.
But I mean, honestly, most of the kids, my boys, were very nice and gentle.
You know, they have no musical background.
Most never even touched a piano.
I started out teaching, what the C note is,
how to put the finger on a keyboard.
A few months went by and we started to connect.
You know, when you teach music
you can't just teach them how to play an instrument.
You've got to show your heart, your music.
You've got to really see how they are - truly connect.
Then I saw them changing and I was changing, too.
I started to see transformation in these boys' lives.
You know that kid, that used to scare me?
He became one of my very favourite.
He is so gentle and so genuine.
Then I realised: I'm not so different from them.
They feel insecure, empty, self-doubts and lonely.
Just like I was.
I saw myself in them.
We were the same.
Within six months, they played this Christmas concert.
They played Bach and Beethoven.
It was amazing.
I mean, truly, I was so proud of them.
I formed this program called Musical Angel Program,
for underprivileged and disadvantaged youth.
And here are my musical angels,
celebrating their second Christmas together.
All my boys are truly special,
but I'd like to share with you
one incredible young man named San Man.
There's San.
San was a runaway.
He ran away from home, when he was 12.
A social worker took him to Saint Stephen's.
He had problems following things through.
He didn't finish high school.
He only had a couple months left to go and he didn't finish.
When I first met him, he wasn't the most musical one.
He was actually, musically speaking, one of the worst ones.
(Laughter)
Because he had these awkward hands and fingers.
But then, three months, something was happening.
He became this sponge
that was absorbing everything
that I was playing and doing.
But the most incredible thing is he had this focus
that only the trained classical musicians have.
What I've learned from my journey so far,
is that the true gift of music, for me,
is to understand that it is a gift.
That I don't need to measure up or be perfect.
But just like any other gift, just receive it,
be grateful
and share it with others.
I want to share my heart, share my music, share all of me with this gift.
Everyone has a gift,
I hope you find it, use it and share it with others.
Touch people's lives
and change their lives, by sharing your gift.
I'd like to leave you with a musical gift,
introducing San Man.
(Applause)
Thank you so much, God bless you.
(Applause)
(Music: Nocturne in C-sharp minor, Opus Posthumous - Chopin)