“To create, you must disappear.”
-Violinist Stephen Nachmanovitch
What does disappearing look like?
For me, it’s a necessity to be completely vulnerable. See-through. As I trudge further on into my walk with life, experiences continue to shape me and wisdom begins to whisper more and more. It tells me what works, and what hasn’t worked. And there is this sense that the more I go and perhaps the more successful I may become, the less “trial and erroring” I afford myself. Essentially, teaching me to fail more quietly. More subtlety.
But the beauty in disappearing is that I have no safety net to catch me in expectation. It’s the dreamer’s paradise I often retreated to during boring college lectures. Or at the DMV.
To grow, we must step back from our lives to see a clearer picture of what we’re actually doing.
Disappearing looks like holding on to nothing. No preconceived notions. No past mistakes. It’s a fresh start inside a mind that was once made up. The possibility of starting over and asking, “What if?” The freedom to do that gives me the most peaceful sigh I could ever hope to let out.
There’s no place for Ego in disappearing. No time for armor or excuses. Disappear for too long and I run the risk of people forgetting who I am—or even myself forgetting.
It’s a wonderful lifestyle to take on when creating. During my time of Disappear, I have felt most comfortable in producing work. The doors are always open, and the walls are clear glass; and everything coming in is the possibility of making me better. It’s a perfect wonderland where no judgment surfaces—only ideas and hope. If we look at Disappear as a place instead of an action, perhaps we will all become a little freer to dream out loud there.
-Jason O’Toole
(Source: memoir.jasonotoole.com)
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