I remember a story about a young violinist. He spent years crafting his musical talent. His teacher was a master violinist. On one of his performances at a great concert hall, the young protege performed his best ever instrumental. His sound was sharp, the tone crisp. His handling of movements and style drew the audience into the story. After his final note, that started strong and faded into silence, there was a momentary hush throughout the great hall followed by a thunderous applause and standing ovation.
One would expect the young master to bask in the moment with bows and a sense of satisfaction at his fine work. Instead, he looked toward the balcony, and strained to see against the spotlight shining on him. He looked for the face of his master teacher and, seeing his master’s standing endorsement and applause, the young student proceeded to acknowledge the crowd. It didn’t matter what the crowd felt if his master was not pleased.
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