If I Learn to Play the Violin with Three Strings

Jun 3 / Dr. Carlos Raimundo
This is a true story.

A YouTube video inspired parts of this article: (Link)

On November 18, 1995, Itzhak Perlman, the world-renowned violinist, came on stage to perform a concert at Avery Fisher Hall in New York City. If you’ve ever attended one of his performances, you’ll know that even getting on stage is no small achievement for him. Stricken with polio as a child, Perlman walks with leg braces and crutches. Watching him make his slow, deliberate journey to his chair, filled with dignity and quiet resolve, is a moving sight.

He sits down, removes the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back, extends the other, lifts his violin, nods to the conductor, and begins to play. The audience, familiar with this ritual, holds a collective breath in respectful silence.

But that night, something unexpected happened. Just a few bars into the piece, a string on Perlman’s violin snapped. The sharp, unmistakable sound hung in the air. We all knew what it meant. Surely, he would have to stop, reattach the clasps, pick up his crutches, and leave the stage to either find a new violin or replace the broken string.
But he didn’t.

Instead, he paused, closed his eyes for a moment, and then signalled the conductor to begin again.

The orchestra resumed, and so did Perlman, playing with just three strings. What unfolded was extraordinary. He played with such passion, precision, and creativity that it seemed impossible. It was as if he had defied the very laws of music itself.

Everyone in the hall knew a symphonic piece wasn’t meant to be played on just three strings. I knew that, you know that, and certainly, Perlman knew that. But that night, he refused to accept it. He adapted. He recomposed the music in real time, bending notes, finding new ways to  make the violin sing. At one point, it seemed as if he was detuning the strings mid-play, coaxing out sounds they were never intended to make.

When he finished, there was a moment of stunned silence—then an eruption of applause. The audience rose to their feet, clapping, cheering, many with tears in their eyes. We had witnessed something truly profound.

Perlman smiled, wiped the sweat from his brow, raised his bow to quiet the crowd, and said—softly, thoughtfully, not boastfully:
“You know, sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.”
That simple truth has stayed with me ever since. And perhaps, it is not just for artists, but for all of us.

Here was a man who had spent his life mastering an instrument designed to be played with four strings, and in a single moment, one was taken away. Yet, he made music that was even more powerful, more moving, more beautiful than ever before.

The Lesson for Us All

Perhaps our task in this unpredictable, rapidly changing world is to create music with what we have left. And when we can’t have everything, we expect or believe we deserve, we must learn to make music with what remains.

This story has made me reflect deeply on my own sense of entitlement. How often I’ve believed I deserve to have “four strings” at all times— health, resources, relationships, circumstances all lined up perfectly. When something goes wrong, I’ve been quick to complain, to resist, to feel it’s unfair.

That entitlement—the belief that life should go a certain way—feeds the ego. And the ego is never satisfied. It whispers, “I deserve more. I should have done better. This isn’t enough.” But is that really true?

When we let the ego dictate our reactions, we fall into a trap: always comparing, always grasping, always dissatisfied. The ego feeds on scarcity, on a false sense of superiority or lack. And in doing so, it blinds us to the gifts we already have—the three strings still in our hands.

Exercises for Tuning the Ego

If you, like me, want to live with less ego and more gratitude, here are some practices to help:

  • Daily Gratitude Practice: Start each day by naming one thing you are grateful for, however small. Gratitude shifts your focus from what’s missing to what’s present.
  • The Pillars of Life: Use the Pillars of Life technique (from the Play of Life) to reflect on memories that bring joy, support, and love. Let these memories remind you of your strengths.
  • Mindful Reflection: Pause throughout the day and ask, “Is my reaction coming from ego or humility?” Awareness is the first step to change.
  • Meditation on Life fragility: Sit with the reality that everything, successes, failures, joys, losses, is fleeting. This helps us release the need to control and lets life flow more freely.
  • Active Listening: In conversations, listen fully without planning your reply. The ego craves attention; humility makes room for others.
  • Acts of Service: Give without expecting in return. Acts of kindness remind us we’re part of something larger, and that true fulfilment comes from giving, not getting.

A Final Thought

Life is about making the most of the strings we have left. If we let the ego lead, we miss the beauty of the music we can make.

I want to live in a way that celebrates my “three strings,” to make music even when life doesn’t go as planned.

Maybe you do too.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this topic; we’d like to hear your feedback, comments or questions. Feel free to share it with your family and friends.
Created with