Musicians. My people.

I see your silent efforts.

I see your struggles.

I see all the hustle across multiple domains.

Private lessons—because we have to share our gift.

Gigs—because if we don’t perform, we don’t deserve to be called musicians.

Maybe even bagging groceries or picking up a second job when the spotlight’s off—because someone has to bring money to the table.

Professors. My foundation.

I see you, too.

I see the quiet nights when everyone else is sleeping and you’re hunched over your dining room table:

Editing papers.

Updating Blackboard.

Fixing your syllabi—for the tenth time.

The work never ends, does it?

I’ve been there.

I’ve done that.

I’ve had quiet nights like that—for years.

Not too long… but long enough to know: This isn’t it.

I admire you, if you’re still in that game.

But me? That wasn’t my calling.

And if that makes me weak? Fine.

I chose my battle—just in a different field.

But here’s the thing:

You don’t have to do it all on your own.

You do you.

Take care of your students.

Rock those performances.

Conquer the paperwork mountains and migraines.

Let me handle this part.

Let me help you protect what matters—your income.

Because if something happens to you… And you can’t hustle from a hospital bed…Someone still needs to feed your child.

That income protection from your job? It typically covers 60–70% of your paycheck.

(And if you’re freelancing, you might not even have that.)

So what happens if you get sick?

What happens if you can’t perform, teach, or travel for work?

Professors with contracts and disability insurance—let me ask you:

Is 60% of your income really enough to keep your family afloat?

Will your partner have to take on a second job, manage the house, the kids… and take care of you, too?

And let’s add insult to injury:

That 60% is still taxed like regular income.

I’m sorry if this stings.

I really am.

But someone has to break the silence.

I’m not here to sell you comfort. I’m here to secure it.

Because you’re MY people.

You’re MY friends.

You’re one of MY domains.

And though we might never share the same stage again…

(Truth be told, I hate sharing the spotlight—always have. That’s why I became a solo pianist.)

I am still with you. In spirit.

So talk to me.

Reach out.

Let me help you carry this weight.

Let me make sure your family, your students, your legacy—are protected.

Even when you no longer can be the one holding them.

With love, resilience, and purpose

—Dr. Trinh An, DMA

Piano Performance | Risk Management Advisor