Pushkin.

Pushkin.

It's always about the music. Music is everything to me. Music is the food I eat, it's the blood in my veins. Without music, I'm not here. I'm actually not here.

It's always about the music. Music is everything to me. Music is the food I eat, it's the blood in my veins. Without music, I'm not here. I'm actually not here.

When world renowned musician Nin Kim first picked up a violin, she knew immediately that it would define her, and it did until one day in a London train station, everything changed.

When world renowned musician Nin Kim first picked up a violin, she knew immediately that it would define her, and it did until one day in a London train station, everything changed.

I didn't know if I was ever going to play the violin again. I didn't know if I could ever listen to music again. I didn't listen to music, even if it was the most healing music. I just couldn't process it. And in that my life as I knew it ended.

I didn't know if I was ever going to play the violin again. I didn't know if I could ever listen to music again. I didn't listen to music, even if it was the most healing music. I just couldn't process it. And in that my life as I knew it ended.

On today's episode, a different kind of identity theft, I'm Maya Shunker and this is a slight change of plans, a show about who we are and who we become in the face of a big change. I felt an immediate and close connection to me and Kim the first time I heard her story. We both began playing the violin at a young age, and it quickly became the center of our identities. And then we both experienced a plot twist. Many of you know what happened in my musical career when I was fifteen, an injury to my hand left me unable to play. Min's slight change of plans arrived a little later in her life, but we'll get to that in a bit. For now, let's start with Min's love story with music. She says it began before she was even born. Min's uncle would often send Min's mom classical music records in the mail. Her mom loved these recordings, especially the ones that featured the violin, and when she became pregnant with men, listening to these records became a sort of pregnancy craving.

On today's episode, a different kind of identity theft, I'm Maya Shunker and this is a slight change of plans, a show about who we are and who we become in the face of a big change. I felt an immediate and close connection to me and Kim the first time I heard her story. We both began playing the violin at a young age, and it quickly became the center of our identities. And then we both experienced a plot twist. Many of you know what happened in my musical career when I was fifteen, an injury to my hand left me unable to play. Min's slight change of plans arrived a little later in her life, but we'll get to that in a bit. For now, let's start with Min's love story with music. She says it began before she was even born. Min's uncle would often send Min's mom classical music records in the mail. Her mom loved these recordings, especially the ones that featured the violin, and when she became pregnant with men, listening to these records became a sort of pregnancy craving.

It was sort of the highlight of her week to get these records. And my parents had a very sort of traditional career and marriage where my father would come home pay his wages on the kitchen table. My mother would budget for the week, but she'd always put some money aside because she just so desperately wanted a high fight system, and they were terribly expensive in those days. But she managed it, and she didn't know she was pregnant with me at the time, but she just had this yearning to listened to as much classical music as possible. She eventually got this hi Fi system and she was listening to things like Sibelia's Violin Concerto, Mozart, violin concertos, Mendelssohn, Tchaikovski, and I'm sure that exposure in my mother's womb. Yeah, was my first violin lesson.

It was sort of the highlight of her week to get these records. And my parents had a very sort of traditional career and marriage where my father would come home pay his wages on the kitchen table. My mother would budget for the week, but she'd always put some money aside because she just so desperately wanted a high fight system, and they were terribly expensive in those days. But she managed it, and she didn't know she was pregnant with me at the time, but she just had this yearning to listened to as much classical music as possible. She eventually got this hi Fi system and she was listening to things like Sibelia's Violin Concerto, Mozart, violin concertos, Mendelssohn, Tchaikovski, and I'm sure that exposure in my mother's womb. Yeah, was my first violin lesson.

Wow, amazing, What is your first memory of the violin?

Wow, amazing, What is your first memory of the violin?

So my best friend at the time, we were both six, she had started learning the trumpet for the Salvation Army and her sister was playing the violin, and she had a quarter sized violin, and I would look at this viol and I just felt this sort of pang of feeling like I'm at home. It's really difficult to describe that sense of wow, everything makes sense. And I think that is possibly as a result of we'd actually come to England three years before that, and I know it was tough. I know it was tough for my parents, coming from you know, very Korean culture, not really speaking English, learning a new language. So language became really really important in my mind at the time, And all of a sudden, seeing this violin, I realized that it's actually another vessel for language and music, being the you know, the universal language. I sort of realized that actually everything that can be expressed can be done through music. And I actually taught myself to play the violin before I had my first violin lesson via my friend's instrument. I mean, it was just twiggled to good. Little style wasn't but it was just so exciting. You know that the sounds that the violin was capable of making. I think, the freedom of having this. You know, you put your finger down and it makes a different note. I mean, for a six year old, it just absolutely blew my mind.

So my best friend at the time, we were both six, she had started learning the trumpet for the Salvation Army and her sister was playing the violin, and she had a quarter sized violin, and I would look at this viol and I just felt this sort of pang of feeling like I'm at home. It's really difficult to describe that sense of wow, everything makes sense. And I think that is possibly as a result of we'd actually come to England three years before that, and I know it was tough. I know it was tough for my parents, coming from you know, very Korean culture, not really speaking English, learning a new language. So language became really really important in my mind at the time, And all of a sudden, seeing this violin, I realized that it's actually another vessel for language and music, being the you know, the universal language. I sort of realized that actually everything that can be expressed can be done through music. And I actually taught myself to play the violin before I had my first violin lesson via my friend's instrument. I mean, it was just twiggled to good. Little style wasn't but it was just so exciting. You know that the sounds that the violin was capable of making. I think, the freedom of having this. You know, you put your finger down and it makes a different note. I mean, for a six year old, it just absolutely blew my mind.

It's really delightful for me to hear this story because I also started playing the violin at age six, and so we must have been an very similar stage of development.

It's really delightful for me to hear this story because I also started playing the violin at age six, and so we must have been an very similar stage of development.

Oh, I just away of that.

Oh, I just away of that.

I remember they would put little pieces of colored tape onto the fingerboard to help q where it is that we were supposed to put our fingers, and so yeah, I think I had a similar level of intrigue and like, ooh, this is really cool. Okay, so you had this moment at six where you're looking at your friend's violin and you feel a sense of home and then I'm presuming you ask your mom for your own violin. Can you describe me your early relationship once you began playing the violin. What was that like? Like, what were you drawn to? What did it make you feel?

I remember they would put little pieces of colored tape onto the fingerboard to help q where it is that we were supposed to put our fingers, and so yeah, I think I had a similar level of intrigue and like, ooh, this is really cool. Okay, so you had this moment at six where you're looking at your friend's violin and you feel a sense of home and then I'm presuming you ask your mom for your own violin. Can you describe me your early relationship once you began playing the violin. What was that like? Like, what were you drawn to? What did it make you feel?

It made me feel free. So when I was talking about language and things like that, it just felt like there were no barriers. I mean, I look back now, I did have this sense of destiny. It was like, I remember there was a moment around the time that I started playing the violin and it starts to rain and I didn't have a number. I was in the playground and I was looking up into the sky and seeing these rain drops falling, and I just knew there was a god and I knew that I was supposed to play the violin. Right. It's kind of I mean I think that now, and I put myself back into that six year old mind, and I was deadly serious. Do you know what. I think I was more serious as a six year old. Now.

It made me feel free. So when I was talking about language and things like that, it just felt like there were no barriers. I mean, I look back now, I did have this sense of destiny. It was like, I remember there was a moment around the time that I started playing the violin and it starts to rain and I didn't have a number. I was in the playground and I was looking up into the sky and seeing these rain drops falling, and I just knew there was a god and I knew that I was supposed to play the violin. Right. It's kind of I mean I think that now, and I put myself back into that six year old mind, and I was deadly serious. Do you know what. I think I was more serious as a six year old. Now.

I was going to say, then you were a very precocious six year old, because I think my six year old brain was like, I love the violin. Also, how do I convince my mom to give me more cookies? Like that was the level of sophistication that I had.

I was going to say, then you were a very precocious six year old, because I think my six year old brain was like, I love the violin. Also, how do I convince my mom to give me more cookies? Like that was the level of sophistication that I had.

Oh well, yeah, yeah, you know, I love cheese sawagy.

Oh well, yeah, yeah, you know, I love cheese sawagy.

Wow, it's quite extraordinary that you had such a deep attachment from such an early age. So how quickly did you realize min that you had this incredible gift? And I'll say it for you so that you don't have to, but you were deemed a child prodigy? So when did that happen?

Wow, it's quite extraordinary that you had such a deep attachment from such an early age. So how quickly did you realize min that you had this incredible gift? And I'll say it for you so that you don't have to, but you were deemed a child prodigy? So when did that happen?

So actually, one of the reasons why I think it was recognized very quickly that I did have an unusual talent was because I was actually allergic to rosin. It's a substance that you used to oil the bow. That the bow is made from horse hair, and so in order to make it slightly sticky and produce the sound so it's not sort of sliding everywhere, you put this rosin on the hair. And in those days, I had really really terrible asthma. I was being hospitalized every other month. I was allergic to everything, including rosin, and so that meant that I couldn't actually practice more than half an hour at a time before I would start wheezing, and so my mother would have to monitor me, like the first sign of the wheezing should make me stop.

So actually, one of the reasons why I think it was recognized very quickly that I did have an unusual talent was because I was actually allergic to rosin. It's a substance that you used to oil the bow. That the bow is made from horse hair, and so in order to make it slightly sticky and produce the sound so it's not sort of sliding everywhere, you put this rosin on the hair. And in those days, I had really really terrible asthma. I was being hospitalized every other month. I was allergic to everything, including rosin, and so that meant that I couldn't actually practice more than half an hour at a time before I would start wheezing, and so my mother would have to monitor me, like the first sign of the wheezing should make me stop.

But what it.

But what it.

Actually did show was with half an hour practice a day, I was still able to progress at a pace that was, you know, outside of the norm, and I think that's why people called me a prodigy. I mean, I remember actually going to the awards ceremony picking up this prize that i'd won because I'd got the highest mark in the country or something like that, and I'm looking around and everybody else is sort of you know, in their late teens, and I'm like a child, and yeah, I'm thinking, well, I guess that's my life.

Actually did show was with half an hour practice a day, I was still able to progress at a pace that was, you know, outside of the norm, and I think that's why people called me a prodigy. I mean, I remember actually going to the awards ceremony picking up this prize that i'd won because I'd got the highest mark in the country or something like that, and I'm looking around and everybody else is sort of you know, in their late teens, and I'm like a child, and yeah, I'm thinking, well, I guess that's my life.

How did your devotion to the violin and your relationship with the violin evolve during your teenage years? So, I mean, was there a moment in particular where you decided I want to be a professional or was that always in the cards for you that you knew?

How did your devotion to the violin and your relationship with the violin evolve during your teenage years? So, I mean, was there a moment in particular where you decided I want to be a professional or was that always in the cards for you that you knew?

No, it was actually So that's the bit I suppose of my life where I look back now and I realized that I really didn't have any control over it was already decided by the time I was eight, by my teachers, by the school, that I was going to be a violinist. I mean, I had no choice in the matter. I wasn't complaining because I think I'd always felt that that was the case. But I think it make me develop a sort of love hate relationship with the violin, not music, but with the violin, because I think when that kind of expectation is on very young shoulders, it does cause a sense of responsibility. I mean one of the things that I would hear constantly was the word potential. And what a loaded word that is. Expectation. Yeah, you can't help but pick up the subtext behind the word potential, which is that the saddest thing is unfulfilled potential. And to deal with that as a child, you know, not even in double figures. By that we were talking eight nine years old. It was Yeah, it was daunting. And I remember saying to my mother, I don't think I want to play the violin anymore if I'm not going to enjoy it. And that was a really strong message for her to hear. And she did sit me down and say, look, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to. And that was the moment that I decided that that's what I wanted to do.

No, it was actually So that's the bit I suppose of my life where I look back now and I realized that I really didn't have any control over it was already decided by the time I was eight, by my teachers, by the school, that I was going to be a violinist. I mean, I had no choice in the matter. I wasn't complaining because I think I'd always felt that that was the case. But I think it make me develop a sort of love hate relationship with the violin, not music, but with the violin, because I think when that kind of expectation is on very young shoulders, it does cause a sense of responsibility. I mean one of the things that I would hear constantly was the word potential. And what a loaded word that is. Expectation. Yeah, you can't help but pick up the subtext behind the word potential, which is that the saddest thing is unfulfilled potential. And to deal with that as a child, you know, not even in double figures. By that we were talking eight nine years old. It was Yeah, it was daunting. And I remember saying to my mother, I don't think I want to play the violin anymore if I'm not going to enjoy it. And that was a really strong message for her to hear. And she did sit me down and say, look, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to. And that was the moment that I decided that that's what I wanted to do.

Wow, what a nice pressure test. Yeah, So I'd like to fast forward over a decade to when you're twenty one, and from the perspective of a violinist, you have this once in a lifetime opportunity when it comes to the violin that you play. Do you mind bringing us back to that moment.

Wow, what a nice pressure test. Yeah, So I'd like to fast forward over a decade to when you're twenty one, and from the perspective of a violinist, you have this once in a lifetime opportunity when it comes to the violin that you play. Do you mind bringing us back to that moment.

So I'd actually been borrowing violins since I was, oh gosh, twelve years old from this dealership, but you know, I always wanted to have my own instrument. It's a little bit like a house, I suppose, or a home. When you own your home, you feel like it's your home. You can't be kicked out at any point. I mean, the thing about borrowing a violin is that there's always that sort of sense at the back of your mind that it can be taken away times. So it became very important for me to actually own my own instrument, and so I asked the dealership if they wouldn't mind just keeping an eye out for any instrument. They knew my playing very well, and so I just asked them to just, you know, to keep an ear to the ground if they hear of any instruments that they might feel suited me. And as it happened, after a few years of nothing, two came along at the same time, and so I got the phone call saying, well, we've got two violins that we think might suit your playing. They're both strads, and I'm thinking, wow, okay, this is very unusual.

So I'd actually been borrowing violins since I was, oh gosh, twelve years old from this dealership, but you know, I always wanted to have my own instrument. It's a little bit like a house, I suppose, or a home. When you own your home, you feel like it's your home. You can't be kicked out at any point. I mean, the thing about borrowing a violin is that there's always that sort of sense at the back of your mind that it can be taken away times. So it became very important for me to actually own my own instrument, and so I asked the dealership if they wouldn't mind just keeping an eye out for any instrument. They knew my playing very well, and so I just asked them to just, you know, to keep an ear to the ground if they hear of any instruments that they might feel suited me. And as it happened, after a few years of nothing, two came along at the same time, and so I got the phone call saying, well, we've got two violins that we think might suit your playing. They're both strads, and I'm thinking, wow, okay, this is very unusual.

Yeah, tell us what makes the strad so spectacular in the world of violinists.

Yeah, tell us what makes the strad so spectacular in the world of violinists.

So, Stradivarius was an incredibly prolific violin maker in the sixteen hundreds all the way to the seventeen hundreds. He actually lived unti a very ripe old age. He basically revolutionized how violins were made. And I think it is a real testament to his genius. That's how he visualized the violin, how he understood the physics of the violin has never been improved. I mean that is incredible. And you know, there's no wonder that they're going for millions of dollars. So a really quality instrument like a strad, it shows you how to play, It teaches you how to play, It makes you better, you know, and the magic and you feel like, you know how when you listen to great singing and it sends shivers down your spine. And that's what a top violin playing on the top violin does. You feel these electricity, it's magic, you know, and you feel alive. So I was presented with two strads. I mean, can you imagine two stratavirus is. You know, we were actually in my parents' home. The dealer actually with a double case, and in that case are two violins that's worth more than the house was standing in. I mean, it's just it's insane, right, And he opens the case and I can feel everybody willing me to choose the one that has the better pedigree. Gorgeous looking instrument, I mean, was just so handsome, had a kind of amber, dark amber hue to it. And I picked it up, and I mean the sound was just incredible. It sounded like Pavarotti. Okay, it had this incredibly rich, rich, vibrant just tingles, you know, but you know what didn't feel like me. It didn't sound like me. It was like I was wearing the most beautiful gown and it just didn't suit me. So the other one was smaller, It had a much more slender body and neck. It was made in sixteen ninety six, it'd been through the walls, it had a hole in the top, and you know, it didn't come from such a great pedigree year. But I picked it up, and you know, I just knew it was the one. It felt like you know, when you meet someone and you on paper, you wouldn't necessarily say this is the perfect fit for me, this is this is you know, you might not necessarily know that it's your match. But the chemistry, and I know it sounds so strange talking about a chemistry with a violin, but it was the chemistry was just right. It just felt right. It felt it felt like it completed me.

So, Stradivarius was an incredibly prolific violin maker in the sixteen hundreds all the way to the seventeen hundreds. He actually lived unti a very ripe old age. He basically revolutionized how violins were made. And I think it is a real testament to his genius. That's how he visualized the violin, how he understood the physics of the violin has never been improved. I mean that is incredible. And you know, there's no wonder that they're going for millions of dollars. So a really quality instrument like a strad, it shows you how to play, It teaches you how to play, It makes you better, you know, and the magic and you feel like, you know how when you listen to great singing and it sends shivers down your spine. And that's what a top violin playing on the top violin does. You feel these electricity, it's magic, you know, and you feel alive. So I was presented with two strads. I mean, can you imagine two stratavirus is. You know, we were actually in my parents' home. The dealer actually with a double case, and in that case are two violins that's worth more than the house was standing in. I mean, it's just it's insane, right, And he opens the case and I can feel everybody willing me to choose the one that has the better pedigree. Gorgeous looking instrument, I mean, was just so handsome, had a kind of amber, dark amber hue to it. And I picked it up, and I mean the sound was just incredible. It sounded like Pavarotti. Okay, it had this incredibly rich, rich, vibrant just tingles, you know, but you know what didn't feel like me. It didn't sound like me. It was like I was wearing the most beautiful gown and it just didn't suit me. So the other one was smaller, It had a much more slender body and neck. It was made in sixteen ninety six, it'd been through the walls, it had a hole in the top, and you know, it didn't come from such a great pedigree year. But I picked it up, and you know, I just knew it was the one. It felt like you know, when you meet someone and you on paper, you wouldn't necessarily say this is the perfect fit for me, this is this is you know, you might not necessarily know that it's your match. But the chemistry, and I know it sounds so strange talking about a chemistry with a violin, but it was the chemistry was just right. It just felt right. It felt it felt like it completed me.

You know, it's I don't know if you're a fan of Harry Potter, but it does remind me. Okay, so it does remind me of the you know, the one chooses the wizard. And what I'm hearing in your story is this particular strat of areas chose you.

You know, it's I don't know if you're a fan of Harry Potter, but it does remind me. Okay, so it does remind me of the you know, the one chooses the wizard. And what I'm hearing in your story is this particular strat of areas chose you.

Yeah.

Yeah.

You know a lot of people might meet their life partner at that age, and I'd never felt like that about another person. I was twenty one. You're kind of you know, you're on the cusp of leaving childhood, you know, youth and really becoming an adult. I was becoming a woman, and I think, yeah, it just came at that point that I was ready for a new life, and this violin really fulfilled that new life. I mean I basically invested everything I had in that violin. I had been earning since I was ten eleven years old. I won a competition when I was eleven which the prize money was a lot, which my parents actually invested for me. So by the time I actually reached twenty one, I actually had enough money to buy a flat. And I think the normal thing would be you upgrade your flat and buy a bigger place, you know, and so on and so forth. Well for me, it was a no brainer. I didn't care about my flat. I just need did this violin for everything?

You know a lot of people might meet their life partner at that age, and I'd never felt like that about another person. I was twenty one. You're kind of you know, you're on the cusp of leaving childhood, you know, youth and really becoming an adult. I was becoming a woman, and I think, yeah, it just came at that point that I was ready for a new life, and this violin really fulfilled that new life. I mean I basically invested everything I had in that violin. I had been earning since I was ten eleven years old. I won a competition when I was eleven which the prize money was a lot, which my parents actually invested for me. So by the time I actually reached twenty one, I actually had enough money to buy a flat. And I think the normal thing would be you upgrade your flat and buy a bigger place, you know, and so on and so forth. Well for me, it was a no brainer. I didn't care about my flat. I just need did this violin for everything?

So rather than the flat upgrade, you were like going all in and eventually wanting to own this violin.

So rather than the flat upgrade, you were like going all in and eventually wanting to own this violin.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I had loans, I had mortgages, but yeah, I mean, you know, it.

I had loans, I had mortgages, but yeah, I mean, you know, it.

Was my life. Wow.

Was my life. Wow.

But actually also I don't know, it was just it gave me a sense of home. It gave me sense stability. The thing about the violin as well. And I was traveling a lot as well in those days, and whenever I felt homesick or whenever I felt like a culture shock or anything like that, and I felt like, oh gosh, I'm you know, a bit anxious. I don't know where I am. If I got out my violin, I played a few scales and I would just sort of get lost in the violin world. I just felt at home so effectively, you know, you're sort of carrying your home around with you wherever you go.

But actually also I don't know, it was just it gave me a sense of home. It gave me sense stability. The thing about the violin as well. And I was traveling a lot as well in those days, and whenever I felt homesick or whenever I felt like a culture shock or anything like that, and I felt like, oh gosh, I'm you know, a bit anxious. I don't know where I am. If I got out my violin, I played a few scales and I would just sort of get lost in the violin world. I just felt at home so effectively, you know, you're sort of carrying your home around with you wherever you go.

And I loved it.

And I loved it.

It was just it meant everything to me.

It was just it meant everything to me.

Now, let's fast forward ten years to this called November Day. It's twenty ten. You're thirty one years old at the time, and everything changed for you. In a London train station.

Now, let's fast forward ten years to this called November Day. It's twenty ten. You're thirty one years old at the time, and everything changed for you. In a London train station.

So it was actually particularly cold November. I had actually been in hospital a few days before with asthma. I actually collapsed in the street. I was sort of on these heavy duty steroids, you know, head all over the place, and I was heading off to Manchester. So got to the train station. I was with my boyfriend Matt. We got there a little bit early, decided to get something to eat. We were in prit Mages, which is our Sandward shop, and because I wasn't feeling well, Matt wanted to look after my violin. My default position sitting down with my violin was to tie the strap around my ankle and I would never let anybody carry my violin for me. So my response was absolutely no way, and we had an argument. We actually had an argument about it, and you know, the thing is I'm the kind of person I just really don't like creating any kind of scene in public. And he was very insistent on looking off my violin, and I said, promise me, you'll look after it. And then about ten minutes later he said, oh my god, where's your violin? And it had gone. And in that moment, my life as I knew it ended.

So it was actually particularly cold November. I had actually been in hospital a few days before with asthma. I actually collapsed in the street. I was sort of on these heavy duty steroids, you know, head all over the place, and I was heading off to Manchester. So got to the train station. I was with my boyfriend Matt. We got there a little bit early, decided to get something to eat. We were in prit Mages, which is our Sandward shop, and because I wasn't feeling well, Matt wanted to look after my violin. My default position sitting down with my violin was to tie the strap around my ankle and I would never let anybody carry my violin for me. So my response was absolutely no way, and we had an argument. We actually had an argument about it, and you know, the thing is I'm the kind of person I just really don't like creating any kind of scene in public. And he was very insistent on looking off my violin, and I said, promise me, you'll look after it. And then about ten minutes later he said, oh my god, where's your violin? And it had gone. And in that moment, my life as I knew it ended.

We'll be back in a moment with a slight change of plans. Min Kim's beloved violin was gone. Here's what happened in the London trains that day. Min had reluctantly let her boyfriend watch over her instrument while she grabbed a quick sandwich. He got distracted for a moment, and someone snatched the violin. Security footage later revealed that three men were behind the theft. The violin was valued at one point two million pounds. As police began a search, Min tried to adjust to life without her violin.

We'll be back in a moment with a slight change of plans. Min Kim's beloved violin was gone. Here's what happened in the London trains that day. Min had reluctantly let her boyfriend watch over her instrument while she grabbed a quick sandwich. He got distracted for a moment, and someone snatched the violin. Security footage later revealed that three men were behind the theft. The violin was valued at one point two million pounds. As police began a search, Min tried to adjust to life without her violin.

I was sort of struggling between feeling a sense of, you know, just needing to be very practical, dealing with the practicalities of it, like the assurance stuff like that, and also feeling very guilty about feeling so devastated and got it almost like you know, it was there were some very well meaning people who loved me and were basically just trying to help, and they, you know that, they were saying, man, it's just a violin. You know there are other violins, And of course they're right, there are other violins. But I think for me it was like it was akin to say, you've lived somewhere since you're twenty one, you've lived somewhere that you've really made your home, You've tended the garden, and you know everything is your home. You know it's your safe place, it's everything, and then all of a sudden it's destroyed. So that's how it felt like for me, and well, I suppose it was a sense of loss of identity. It was a sense of a loss of everything that i'd actually it was my life earnings as well. And at this point I'm not even sure what's happening with the insurance, so I don't even know if I've actually lost my entire life earnings, my savings, my pension, everything. I didn't know if I was ever going to play the violin again. I didn't know if I could ever listen to music again. I didn't listen to music actually, for gosh, the best part of six months. I couldn't it was too painful. And this is, you know, having been someone who's basically been in love with music since I was born, well, so as I was in the woomb to all of a sudden actually reject music. I had to reject music because it was just so painful. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want, I couldn't feel. I couldn't cry. To cry meant that I had to feel, and to feel meant that I was human, and I just felt like I was going through the motions. I slept. I was just all I wanted to do was sleep. I didn't want to get out of bed, just wanted to sleep.

I was sort of struggling between feeling a sense of, you know, just needing to be very practical, dealing with the practicalities of it, like the assurance stuff like that, and also feeling very guilty about feeling so devastated and got it almost like you know, it was there were some very well meaning people who loved me and were basically just trying to help, and they, you know that, they were saying, man, it's just a violin. You know there are other violins, And of course they're right, there are other violins. But I think for me it was like it was akin to say, you've lived somewhere since you're twenty one, you've lived somewhere that you've really made your home, You've tended the garden, and you know everything is your home. You know it's your safe place, it's everything, and then all of a sudden it's destroyed. So that's how it felt like for me, and well, I suppose it was a sense of loss of identity. It was a sense of a loss of everything that i'd actually it was my life earnings as well. And at this point I'm not even sure what's happening with the insurance, so I don't even know if I've actually lost my entire life earnings, my savings, my pension, everything. I didn't know if I was ever going to play the violin again. I didn't know if I could ever listen to music again. I didn't listen to music actually, for gosh, the best part of six months. I couldn't it was too painful. And this is, you know, having been someone who's basically been in love with music since I was born, well, so as I was in the woomb to all of a sudden actually reject music. I had to reject music because it was just so painful. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want, I couldn't feel. I couldn't cry. To cry meant that I had to feel, and to feel meant that I was human, and I just felt like I was going through the motions. I slept. I was just all I wanted to do was sleep. I didn't want to get out of bed, just wanted to sleep.

You mentioned that for a long time after your violin was stolen, you were not even able to listen to music. Yeah, tell me about when that changed for you and what cracked you open again and made music an option for you once again.

You mentioned that for a long time after your violin was stolen, you were not even able to listen to music. Yeah, tell me about when that changed for you and what cracked you open again and made music an option for you once again.

So I needed silence, I felt so immediately after the theft. I just needed silence. I couldn't process. I couldn't process noise or sounds. Everything just sounded like noise and I couldn't deal with it. You know how when you listen to a song and they have very specific lyrics, very meaningful lyrics to something maybe that you've experienced, and it's just so exactly what you're going through, and you're just like, get it away from me. I can't deal with it, you know. And every single piece of music sounded like that to me. It was like a dagger to my heart. Even if it was the most healing music, I just couldn't process it. I certainly couldn't play. And I really didn't want to be self indulgent about grieving, and I think that's why I denied myself the grieving process for so long. I felt guilty that maybe I'm being massively self indulgent. So I kind of went into sort of soldier mode, giving myself a massive of doses of tough love, not actually realizing that what I really needed was to just take it easy, just you know, say it's okay to cry, It's okay to cry over something so important to me. And I think that delayed just sort of reconnecting with my life. And the moment actually came through bach. I was alone in the flat in Manchester and I had this violin that borrowed that sort of be sitting unopened for months. Took it out, took out the boat. It felt like a golf club in my hand, you know, just felt soulless. But I suddenly had an urge to play Bach. And the reason, I think is because I always think of Bach has been the ultimate detox. You know, it's so pure, it's so clean, and my soul felt ready to let go of some of the of the real darkness. I didn't realize just how in such a dark place that i'd been, I hadn't laughed in months. I hadn't cried either. So I played a piece by Bach called the Chakan, and I started shaking, like my body actually started shaking in voluntarily, like it was trying to feel something, like it was trying to connect with something. And I think it's also because the Chakon being such an incredibly powerful piece that he wrote after learning that his wife had died, and it's not a sentimental piece, but it really does capture life. I'm a huge believer in the subconscious mind, just knowing what it's going to do, what you're going to do before you even do it. And I clearly chose the Bach on a very deep level because I think it's the piece that I always go back to if I ever feel like I need to not even have answers for anything, because I don't have answers for anything really, but just that feeling of something so much greater that, you know, that wonderment.

So I needed silence, I felt so immediately after the theft. I just needed silence. I couldn't process. I couldn't process noise or sounds. Everything just sounded like noise and I couldn't deal with it. You know how when you listen to a song and they have very specific lyrics, very meaningful lyrics to something maybe that you've experienced, and it's just so exactly what you're going through, and you're just like, get it away from me. I can't deal with it, you know. And every single piece of music sounded like that to me. It was like a dagger to my heart. Even if it was the most healing music, I just couldn't process it. I certainly couldn't play. And I really didn't want to be self indulgent about grieving, and I think that's why I denied myself the grieving process for so long. I felt guilty that maybe I'm being massively self indulgent. So I kind of went into sort of soldier mode, giving myself a massive of doses of tough love, not actually realizing that what I really needed was to just take it easy, just you know, say it's okay to cry, It's okay to cry over something so important to me. And I think that delayed just sort of reconnecting with my life. And the moment actually came through bach. I was alone in the flat in Manchester and I had this violin that borrowed that sort of be sitting unopened for months. Took it out, took out the boat. It felt like a golf club in my hand, you know, just felt soulless. But I suddenly had an urge to play Bach. And the reason, I think is because I always think of Bach has been the ultimate detox. You know, it's so pure, it's so clean, and my soul felt ready to let go of some of the of the real darkness. I didn't realize just how in such a dark place that i'd been, I hadn't laughed in months. I hadn't cried either. So I played a piece by Bach called the Chakan, and I started shaking, like my body actually started shaking in voluntarily, like it was trying to feel something, like it was trying to connect with something. And I think it's also because the Chakon being such an incredibly powerful piece that he wrote after learning that his wife had died, and it's not a sentimental piece, but it really does capture life. I'm a huge believer in the subconscious mind, just knowing what it's going to do, what you're going to do before you even do it. And I clearly chose the Bach on a very deep level because I think it's the piece that I always go back to if I ever feel like I need to not even have answers for anything, because I don't have answers for anything really, but just that feeling of something so much greater that, you know, that wonderment.

Yeah.

Yeah.

So it was almost like going back to being a child and that wonderment of music and the awe that you feel of oh, of discovering music. You're thinking, wow, this is nature, this is life.

So it was almost like going back to being a child and that wonderment of music and the awe that you feel of oh, of discovering music. You're thinking, wow, this is nature, this is life.

You know.

You know.

It was almost like discovering music for the very first time again and just realizing that everything, every language is in music, every emotion, every thought, everything that's ever been discovered is in music.

It was almost like discovering music for the very first time again and just realizing that everything, every language is in music, every emotion, every thought, everything that's ever been discovered is in music.

Yeah.

Yeah.

It just freed my mind to stop being so closed. And you know, at that point, I was actually living in my head with so many walls. There was just so many walls around my thought process, and the bars chak on just somehow just shattered those walls and it helped me. It was almost like I felt I felt touch God. I you know, I get really emotionalized remembering that feeling of He helped me live again, you know, And that's the power of music.

It just freed my mind to stop being so closed. And you know, at that point, I was actually living in my head with so many walls. There was just so many walls around my thought process, and the bars chak on just somehow just shattered those walls and it helped me. It was almost like I felt I felt touch God. I you know, I get really emotionalized remembering that feeling of He helped me live again, you know, And that's the power of music.

I love that you use r to describe this moment because it I'm just thinking back to your childhood and how it was music's are inspiring qualities that led you to fall in love with it in the first place, and now here you are in adulthood reclaiming those are inspiring aspects of music to help you heal from this traumatic event in your life, and it's just so beautiful. It's like you arde your way through this heartbreak.

I love that you use r to describe this moment because it I'm just thinking back to your childhood and how it was music's are inspiring qualities that led you to fall in love with it in the first place, and now here you are in adulthood reclaiming those are inspiring aspects of music to help you heal from this traumatic event in your life, and it's just so beautiful. It's like you arde your way through this heartbreak.

Yeah, I think that sense of awe it led me to understand the importance of really getting out of the way, you know. I think the times that I felt the most blocked was because I was kind of getting in the way of myself. So when I was blocking the music out, it was because I was getting in the way of it and allowing the music to wash over, like being in a bath and just letting it flow, not trying to control it in any way. And I think that's when whatever I'm doing, whether it's practicing, performing, composing, even listening, letting go of control is key for everything, you know.

Yeah, I think that sense of awe it led me to understand the importance of really getting out of the way, you know. I think the times that I felt the most blocked was because I was kind of getting in the way of myself. So when I was blocking the music out, it was because I was getting in the way of it and allowing the music to wash over, like being in a bath and just letting it flow, not trying to control it in any way. And I think that's when whatever I'm doing, whether it's practicing, performing, composing, even listening, letting go of control is key for everything, you know.

I recently spoke with the psychologist dak Or Keltner, and he talks about the fact that one feeling we have with art is perceived vastness that we are in the presence of something that is so great and big and bigger than ourselves, and it can make us feel like we are part of a larger hole. They think. When you said you kind of got out of the way, it aligned with my understanding of all, which is what all can do to us is allow us to see beyond ourselves. It diminishes the self in a way that's actually quite powerful and perspective giving.

I recently spoke with the psychologist dak Or Keltner, and he talks about the fact that one feeling we have with art is perceived vastness that we are in the presence of something that is so great and big and bigger than ourselves, and it can make us feel like we are part of a larger hole. They think. When you said you kind of got out of the way, it aligned with my understanding of all, which is what all can do to us is allow us to see beyond ourselves. It diminishes the self in a way that's actually quite powerful and perspective giving.

What happened when I lost my violin was because I had wrapped so much of my identity with the violin. With the violin gone, suddenly I'm left with just me. I don't know what to do with it. So that sense of awe, I sort of temporarily lost it because I'm sort of dealing with me as a human being, and I'm thinking, well, there's nothing awesome there, you know, and finding that awe again, that feeling of awe is forgetting yourself and allowing the music to take shape to fill your being, and it's for gosh, it's so powerful, actually, and I think that was the reason why I couldn't actually let it in. It's such strong medicine actually, that sometimes you've got to be a little bit strong and I was so weak and I needed to just get a little bit stronger in order to be able to receive the medicine of music.

What happened when I lost my violin was because I had wrapped so much of my identity with the violin. With the violin gone, suddenly I'm left with just me. I don't know what to do with it. So that sense of awe, I sort of temporarily lost it because I'm sort of dealing with me as a human being, and I'm thinking, well, there's nothing awesome there, you know, and finding that awe again, that feeling of awe is forgetting yourself and allowing the music to take shape to fill your being, and it's for gosh, it's so powerful, actually, and I think that was the reason why I couldn't actually let it in. It's such strong medicine actually, that sometimes you've got to be a little bit strong and I was so weak and I needed to just get a little bit stronger in order to be able to receive the medicine of music.

I of course want to know, and I know listeners will want to know, if investigators ever found your strativarius.

I of course want to know, and I know listeners will want to know, if investigators ever found your strativarius.

Yes, after three very long years, I got the phone call and it was elation, followed by the bittersweet realization that the violin no longer belonged to me. Who did to It belonged to the insurance company within that three years, in the normal protocol, the normal way that these things are dealt with. You know, my vinyl was insured. I had collected the insurance money, and the moment I did that, the violin belonged to the insurance company. That's completely fair, that's you know, and I had to come to terms with that.

Yes, after three very long years, I got the phone call and it was elation, followed by the bittersweet realization that the violin no longer belonged to me. Who did to It belonged to the insurance company within that three years, in the normal protocol, the normal way that these things are dealt with. You know, my vinyl was insured. I had collected the insurance money, and the moment I did that, the violin belonged to the insurance company. That's completely fair, that's you know, and I had to come to terms with that.

Did you use the insurance money to buy a new violin?

Did you use the insurance money to buy a new violin?

I had?

I had?

Yes, Okay, yeah, Did it ever feel like you were cheating on your strad with this new violin? It's kind of a bizarre question, but.

Yes, Okay, yeah, Did it ever feel like you were cheating on your strad with this new violin? It's kind of a bizarre question, but.

Oh yeah, well, I mean I think it says everything that I resented it. Oh interesting, I resented this VI. I mean I know that sounds kind of you know what what's you're talking about? But yeah, I mean I was being massively unfair, you know, I mean, it's not It wasn't violence thought that was the rebound instrument.

Oh yeah, well, I mean I think it says everything that I resented it. Oh interesting, I resented this VI. I mean I know that sounds kind of you know what what's you're talking about? But yeah, I mean I was being massively unfair, you know, I mean, it's not It wasn't violence thought that was the rebound instrument.

Absolutely out of I was trying its investment to fill the void, you know what I mean.

Absolutely out of I was trying its investment to fill the void, you know what I mean.

And I never really truly bonded with it though. And I didn't have enough time though to you know, to sell it and rebuy my vine only. I only had ninety days, and because I had actually purchased this other violin, it just wasn't enough time.

And I never really truly bonded with it though. And I didn't have enough time though to you know, to sell it and rebuy my vine only. I only had ninety days, and because I had actually purchased this other violin, it just wasn't enough time.

Yeah, did you get a chance to say goodbye to your strad like? Were you ever physically reunited with it? Once investigators found it?

Yeah, did you get a chance to say goodbye to your strad like? Were you ever physically reunited with it? Once investigators found it?

I did, I did, and it was it was painful. It was really really painful. I played the last thing that I had actually recorded on it, which was the Brahms Concerto. I played the slow movement because it seemed to sum up. So Brahms wrote this slow movement as a love letter to his great unrequired love Clara Schumann who so Clara Schumann was married to Brahms's best friend, Robert Schumann, and he had been in love with Clara forever and then when Robert died everybody expected, including Clara herself, that Brahms would, you know, make overtures and you know, and he didn't. And it was almost as though the pain of unrequirted love was what drove him more than the possibility of a real relationship. And you really feel that in the slow movement of the Broms. It just felt very just felt very fitting to play something that is so emotional but in a very kind of painful way. You know, how you have a relationship where you do learn a lot about love, but you also learn a lot about pain. And I think that's what I associate the relationship that I had with my strad with I learned a lot about love, but I also learned a lot about grief and a lot about pain. I'm glad I said goodbye to it. I think it was really important to say goodbye. I don't want to do it again again. I don't want to sort of make too much of an analogy with a human relationship, but it was, Yeah, it was kind of like the final goodbye.

I did, I did, and it was it was painful. It was really really painful. I played the last thing that I had actually recorded on it, which was the Brahms Concerto. I played the slow movement because it seemed to sum up. So Brahms wrote this slow movement as a love letter to his great unrequired love Clara Schumann who so Clara Schumann was married to Brahms's best friend, Robert Schumann, and he had been in love with Clara forever and then when Robert died everybody expected, including Clara herself, that Brahms would, you know, make overtures and you know, and he didn't. And it was almost as though the pain of unrequirted love was what drove him more than the possibility of a real relationship. And you really feel that in the slow movement of the Broms. It just felt very just felt very fitting to play something that is so emotional but in a very kind of painful way. You know, how you have a relationship where you do learn a lot about love, but you also learn a lot about pain. And I think that's what I associate the relationship that I had with my strad with I learned a lot about love, but I also learned a lot about grief and a lot about pain. I'm glad I said goodbye to it. I think it was really important to say goodbye. I don't want to do it again again. I don't want to sort of make too much of an analogy with a human relationship, but it was, Yeah, it was kind of like the final goodbye.

Wow, I'm glad you had that moment of goodbye. So, in reflecting back then, I'm wondering if you can tell me what this lass has taught you about yourself and how you had defined yourself, how you had defined your self identity.

Wow, I'm glad you had that moment of goodbye. So, in reflecting back then, I'm wondering if you can tell me what this lass has taught you about yourself and how you had defined yourself, how you had defined your self identity.

What I learned mainly was that I'm not in control of anything. I can make all the plans in the world, and control of anything. You know, life is so much bigger. But actually, what was quite surprising that came out of it was that I rediscovered my love of writing music, which I'd always had as a child, but you know, it was always on the back burner. And I met a wonderful composer called Drew Masters a few years ago, and he's, oh, gosh, I love his music so much, and I'd always loved his music, and so when we met, we just clicked and this energy just suddenly emerged. It was like this energy was born. And so it was almost like this, So this relationship that I had with my violin where we were a unit, I discovered in this partnership with Drew as a composer. So we started writing, nothing really serious, just sort of messing around a little bit in the studio, and we discovered, actually that we almost have this telepathy with each other. I'll have an idea, He'll have an idea, and we just go. We just go with it. We just go with the flow. I feel like my identity as Minca, and that's the name of the collaboration between Drew and me. I feel like Minca is now massively part of my identity. But then so was my violin. So what happens when one identity goes and another one is born? What happens to the old identity? Is it just part of my past? Am I bringing part of that identity into Minca? There's questions I ask myself every day, actually, because I think there's room. I think there's room for all of these different identities. And I'm not the same person that I was. It's almost like there's me pre violin, there's me. There was me pre my violin. There was me and my violin, and there's me post my violin, and we are three different people. I mean, obviously, you know, the essence, the core of a person doesn't change. My soul the same, my heart is the same, but I have changed. And I look at those years with my violin, like there were these sort of ten technically years where everything was just massively, massively vibrant. I think I was scared. I was fearful that I would never find joy, real joy again. But you know what, I feel so joyful now.

What I learned mainly was that I'm not in control of anything. I can make all the plans in the world, and control of anything. You know, life is so much bigger. But actually, what was quite surprising that came out of it was that I rediscovered my love of writing music, which I'd always had as a child, but you know, it was always on the back burner. And I met a wonderful composer called Drew Masters a few years ago, and he's, oh, gosh, I love his music so much, and I'd always loved his music, and so when we met, we just clicked and this energy just suddenly emerged. It was like this energy was born. And so it was almost like this, So this relationship that I had with my violin where we were a unit, I discovered in this partnership with Drew as a composer. So we started writing, nothing really serious, just sort of messing around a little bit in the studio, and we discovered, actually that we almost have this telepathy with each other. I'll have an idea, He'll have an idea, and we just go. We just go with it. We just go with the flow. I feel like my identity as Minca, and that's the name of the collaboration between Drew and me. I feel like Minca is now massively part of my identity. But then so was my violin. So what happens when one identity goes and another one is born? What happens to the old identity? Is it just part of my past? Am I bringing part of that identity into Minca? There's questions I ask myself every day, actually, because I think there's room. I think there's room for all of these different identities. And I'm not the same person that I was. It's almost like there's me pre violin, there's me. There was me pre my violin. There was me and my violin, and there's me post my violin, and we are three different people. I mean, obviously, you know, the essence, the core of a person doesn't change. My soul the same, my heart is the same, but I have changed. And I look at those years with my violin, like there were these sort of ten technically years where everything was just massively, massively vibrant. I think I was scared. I was fearful that I would never find joy, real joy again. But you know what, I feel so joyful now.

Yeah, No, that's so wonderful, I really really do. I can see it. I can see it in your face. I can see it in your smile. I mean, the joy is so evident. What I'm hearing is that you found that there are many mins you can be yes when it comes to loving music.

Yeah, No, that's so wonderful, I really really do. I can see it. I can see it in your face. I can see it in your smile. I mean, the joy is so evident. What I'm hearing is that you found that there are many mins you can be yes when it comes to loving music.

Right.

Right.

So, I think before you had a very tight grasp around Okay, min is the concert violinist who plays this strad and you're still a musician, You're still a violinist. But I sense that there's a greater capaciousness there, like there's more space and more freedom for you to be many things within that category.

So, I think before you had a very tight grasp around Okay, min is the concert violinist who plays this strad and you're still a musician, You're still a violinist. But I sense that there's a greater capaciousness there, like there's more space and more freedom for you to be many things within that category.

Yeah. I actually feel as though what's happening is I'm actually going through what most people go through in their adolescence, which is, you know, experimenting, testing the boundaries, pushing the boundaries, you know, finding who you are, and having done that, I accidentally realized that there's this whole new world of music. It's like I actually physically feel something in me blossoming. I feel every day I wake up and I'm so happy. I'm so happy to get out. I mean, I don't mean that I'm kind of always ecstatic or anything like that, but there's always a point in the day where I just have this massive sort of dopamine hit because the music is just so beautiful and I just can't bear it.

Yeah. I actually feel as though what's happening is I'm actually going through what most people go through in their adolescence, which is, you know, experimenting, testing the boundaries, pushing the boundaries, you know, finding who you are, and having done that, I accidentally realized that there's this whole new world of music. It's like I actually physically feel something in me blossoming. I feel every day I wake up and I'm so happy. I'm so happy to get out. I mean, I don't mean that I'm kind of always ecstatic or anything like that, but there's always a point in the day where I just have this massive sort of dopamine hit because the music is just so beautiful and I just can't bear it.

It's yeah, so free.

It's yeah, so free.

This is Men playing an original song called Queen's Gambit from her new project Minka. Hey, thanks so much for listening. Join me next week when we finish our series on AWE. In our first episode of the series, psychologist Daker Keltner spoke about a surprising source of AWE called collective effervescence. It's the feeling we get when we experience something transcendent with other people. Next week, I talked to doctor Shira Gabriel about the science of collective effervescence and how we can access it more in our everyday lives. See you next week. A Slight Change of Plans is created, written and executive produced by me Maya Schunker. The Slight Change family includes our showrunner Tyler Green, our senior editor Kate Parkinson Morgan, our sound engineer Andrew Bstola, and our producer Tricia Bobita. Louis Scara wrote our delightful theme song, and Ginger Smith helped arrange the vocals. Special thanks this week to Min Kim and Drew Masters, who write and perform as the musical duo Minca. You heard part of their song Queens Gambit in this episode. You can find more of their music at sounds like ninca dot com that's m I n Ka. We also heard a bit of Min's performance of Brahms from her album Gone, released as a companion to her memoir by the same name. Special thanks also to my friend Rachel Lee, who I've known since I was nine years old, for letting us play a bit of her performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. A Slight Change of Plans is a production of Pushkin Industry, so big thanks to everyone there, and of course that's very special thanks to Jimmy Wing. You can follow A Slight Change of Plans on Instagram at doctor Maya Schunker.

This is Men playing an original song called Queen's Gambit from her new project Minka. Hey, thanks so much for listening. Join me next week when we finish our series on AWE. In our first episode of the series, psychologist Daker Keltner spoke about a surprising source of AWE called collective effervescence. It's the feeling we get when we experience something transcendent with other people. Next week, I talked to doctor Shira Gabriel about the science of collective effervescence and how we can access it more in our everyday lives. See you next week. A Slight Change of Plans is created, written and executive produced by me Maya Schunker. The Slight Change family includes our showrunner Tyler Green, our senior editor Kate Parkinson Morgan, our sound engineer Andrew Bstola, and our producer Tricia Bobita. Louis Scara wrote our delightful theme song, and Ginger Smith helped arrange the vocals. Special thanks this week to Min Kim and Drew Masters, who write and perform as the musical duo Minca. You heard part of their song Queens Gambit in this episode. You can find more of their music at sounds like ninca dot com that's m I n Ka. We also heard a bit of Min's performance of Brahms from her album Gone, released as a companion to her memoir by the same name. Special thanks also to my friend Rachel Lee, who I've known since I was nine years old, for letting us play a bit of her performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto. A Slight Change of Plans is a production of Pushkin Industry, so big thanks to everyone there, and of course that's very special thanks to Jimmy Wing. You can follow A Slight Change of Plans on Instagram at doctor Maya Schunker.

I have that thing, what's it called earworm where you hear music and it's constant, and even now I'm always hearing music in my head and sometimes it drives me mad because i can't sleep because I've got music going on in my head and i can't put ear plugs in block out people snoring, but I can't block out the music.

I have that thing, what's it called earworm where you hear music and it's constant, and even now I'm always hearing music in my head and sometimes it drives me mad because i can't sleep because I've got music going on in my head and i can't put ear plugs in block out people snoring, but I can't block out the music.

I hear you, by the way, like every Taylor Swift song eventually finds its way into my head right right, So yeah, I'm glad it's Beethoven for you. For me, it's Tess

I hear you, by the way, like every Taylor Swift song eventually finds its way into my head right right, So yeah, I'm glad it's Beethoven for you. For me, it's Tess

Mhm

Mhm