New Album: Lilith
lilith: A journey of spiritual death, introspection and rebirth
A few years ago, I underwent a profound transformation. I made the difficult decision to leave the place where I had spent all of my formative years as a professional musician.
Having built my adult life within that singular environment, my departure felt like the erasure of a vital part of my identity. It was as though a piece of me had died.
Alongside this sense of loss, I wrestled with a deeply rooted imposter syndrome—one born from my own relentless ambition. I was consumed with the need to prove wrong those who had doubted or dismissed me. In doing so, I became fixated on becoming someone larger than myself, rather than embracing who I truly was. I cycled through the stages of grief, but never reached acceptance.
This denial of self began to manifest in the most debilitating way imaginable for a violinist. I developed uncontrollable tremors on stage—an alien sensation that had never afflicted me before. Performance anxiety took hold, accompanied by memory lapses during rehearsals and concerts. I began to loathe the sound of my own playing. Every note felt hollow. The joy I once found in music had vanished.
As I continued to descend into this spiritual crisis, the COVID-19 pandemic struck. The world came to a standstill. Live concerts disappeared, replaced by virtual performances and split-screen recordings—our only means of sharing music in isolation.
But in that stillness, I was finally confronted with the question I had long evaded: Do I want to continue playing the violin? Do I still have what it takes to be a musician?
The answer didn’t come from within—not at first. Instead, it came from those around me. To my surprise, there were people who believed in me more deeply than I believed in myself.
With their support, I began the slow process of healing. I performed all six of J.S. Bach’s Sonatas and Partitas in a livestream series. I was invited to tour Japan, performing recitals and chamber concerts throughout my home country. I launched an online concert series, bringing together dear friends to explore the repertoire we loved. And I founded INTERWOVEN, an intercultural chamber ensemble dedicated to celebrating the bonds between diverse musical traditions. Step by step, surrounded by community and connection, I began to rediscover the joy of performance. Gratitude slowly returned to my music-making.
Do I still shake on stage? Yes—sometimes. But I’ve come to accept it as part of who I am now. It serves as a quiet, persistent reminder of a pivotal chapter in my life—a moment of spiritual death, introspection, and ultimately, rebirth.
This album is named Lilith, after the mythic figure who was cast out of the Garden of Eden for daring to claim what was rightfully hers. I dedicate it to all who find themselves walking through darkness.
May you, too, find light on the other side.
Recorded at Oktaven audiO | Ryan Streber, Producer/Engineer
Photography by Becky Yee | Make-up & hair by Saori Morris