Step 8: Different Environment, Same Purpose #2

In my previous blog post, I reflected on my story of how I prepared for my second hospital piano performance, this time in a completely new environment at Sriraj Hospital. From choosing a new song to honoring my grandpa by choosing to play one of his favorites, "Ballade pour Adeline," it was a meaningful journey even before I stepped into the hospital.

As the performance day slowly approached, I found myself going through that familiar sense of nervousness and quiet excitement. I countlessly practiced the songs, visualized myself on the day of the performance, and reminded myself of my "whys" whenever I started to doubt myself. Even though it wasn't my first time playing the piano at a hospital, I still felt a lot of weight, like I was about to step into uncharted territory, into something unknown.

And in the blink of an eye, the day finally arrived.

Sriraj Hospital had a completely different atmosphere from the Police Hospital. The Police Hospital felt small, crowded, and close, with people constantly passing by just a few feet from the piano. In contrast, Sriraj was more spacious and open. The piano was placed in a large atrium with high ceilings and more room to breathe. There were still plenty of people around, especially during the afternoon when I played, but the energy was more spread out and less intense. Here is a picture environment during my performance day:

In the next blog post, I'll post the full video of this performance!

However, it was ironic that my nerves didn't seem to adapt to the change in atmosphere.

Even with all that open space, even with fewer people watching me directly, I still felt the same tightness in my chest that I had felt on the day of my first performance. The same questions paced around my mind: Will they enjoy the music? Is this the right song for this environment? Will they judge me if I make a mistake?

And that's when I learned that maybe that's just part of putting yourself out there, no matter how many times you do it, there's always going to be a voice at the back of your head asking whether you're enough.

And that voice? Sometimes it disguises itself as "being realistic." But in the end, that voice

reflects fear; fear of being judged, or falling short in the end.

I've learned that you can't always wait for the voice to disappear before you begin, because, quite frankly, the voice is never going to disappear whether you like it or not. You just have to move past that voice, acknowledge it, but don't let it dictate your actions. Because if you wait until you feel perfectly confident, you might never play that first note.

That day at Sriraj Hospital, I sat down with that same voice in my mind, reminding me of every possible mistake that could happen, every doubt I didn't even know I had. But I also had something stronger, which was the choice to show up anyway—to play, not because I was certain of the outcome but because I believed that even the smallest act of sincerity could mean something to someone.

You never really know what someone is going through, especially in a place of chaos like a hospital. Behind every face is a story, a sudden realization of a diagnosis, a long wait, a moment of fear, or hope, or exhaustion. And in those moments, even the simplest of a familiar song, can reach places that words can never do.

It's not about perfection or how loud the applause is, but how you make the people around you feel.

And then, I struck the first note...

In my next blog post, I'll share what happened during my second performance, this time in a completely different environment. I'll be sharing what was different, what remained the same, the unexpected moments, the connections I made, and why this experience has deepened my passion for playing piano in hospitals.

-Team