Grab your headphones and open the Kimono.  ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ ‌ Open the Kimono On living, creating and letting go. ​
--------------------------------------------------------------- Finally: My first spoken-word album, Kimono, has officially dropped. You can give it a spin [here](. If you appreciate a bit of theater, take 90 seconds and watch [the trailer](=) for the album. --------------------------------------------------------------- You must develop different relationships with your work at different stages of the creative process. I am experiencing this development now, as I am several days into the release of my spoken-word album, [Kimono](. To breathe life into a new piece of creative work, you must treat the work as if it is your child, as if it is a part of yourself. You must nurture the creative work. You must love the creative work. You must protect the creative work. You must be fully present with the creative work as it forms and takes shape and becomes all that it is meant to be. Until––until––the creative work outgrows you. Eventually, the creative work becomes too great for you to hold and it is here where you must let it go. I have a rescued pit bull. Her name is June. She's about four years old. She's my baby. Even at 70 lbs, she's still my baby. Some days I'll scoop her up into my arms and cradle her and tell her she's my baby. She will tolerate my affection for a bit but then she will begin to squirm. All 70 lbs of her will wriggle and writhe and twist and buck until I'm forced to set her down. Anytime I catch myself holding onto a creative project too tightly––or anything too tightly––I get this image of June attempting to lurch from my arms and I am reminded that it is time to let my baby go. I try and remember the old Buddhist saying... Let go, or be dragged. Once you've let go of the creative work and you've released it into the world, you must develop a new relationship with the creative work. You must go from parent to friend. It's perfectly okay to care deeply about the creative work and to even hope the creative work will be well received. But, you must form a healthy detachment from the creative work. If you treat the creative work as if it is a part of yourself, every criticism will feel like the butt of a rifle to the nose ((notice I am using the words the creative work and not your creative work). You can see it when writers, artists and entrepreneurs are too attached to the creative work upon its release. They're like nervous, helicopter parents. They're trainwrecks. This all-consuming, all-or-nothing way of creating might feel thrilling and exciting but it takes its toll on the artist over time. It's not sustainable. I have spent so much of the past three years overthinking every single mother fucking thing I do. After stepping away for several months and focusing on myself, my friends and my family, I've realized that my overthinking was a side-effect of my own ego. It took me leaving the place I called home to see that my need for myself (and my work) to be great, to be loved and to be well-received, was devouring me from the inside out. The late writer John Updike has a brilliant perspective on the costs of celebrity... Celebrity, even the modest sort that comes to writers, is an unhelpful exercise in self-consciousness. Celebrity is a mask that eats into the face. As soon as one is aware of being ‘somebody,’ to be watched and listened to with extra interest, input ceases, and the performer goes blind and deaf in his over animation. Updike's wisdom applies to each and every one of us because we are all celebrities-in-miniature dancing for likes all over the internet. We must remember that these facades we create for ourselves, these egos, these masks eventually collect their debts. If we exist behind the mask for long enough, the mask will eat the face. I've recently fallen in love with a writer by the name of Eve Babitz who passed away a few years back. Her words have offered me a great deal of reprieve in the moments I struggle to shake my ego... Once it is established that you are you and everyone else is merely perfect, ordinarily factory-like perfect... you can wreak all the havoc you want. Your need for perfection is your ego throwing a fit. If you attempt to soothe it, you will live and create out of fear rather than love. Instead, you should only allow yourself to be precious about a handful of things in your life: your loved ones, your friends, your god, your breath and the unbelievable presence you experience during the act of creation. Otherwise, you should accept the fact that you will likely never be great, widely loved nor entirely well-received and then... You should wreak havoc. By [Cole Schafer](​ P.S. When you're ready, [open the Kimono](. --------------------------------------------------------------- Overwhelm your mind A waterfall of knowledge churns below Sometimes, I get anxious that I am going to forget everything I've learned over the years; and so I write it all down. The problem with this approach is that as soon as I write it down, I forget it––but that's a discussion for another day. Once I feel I have collected enough thoughts and ideas on a particular subject that they might be beneficial to others, I turn everything I've written into a course or a guide. I've created a handful of such courses and guides on advertising, copywriting, freelancing and creative writing. You can peruse them [here]() or at the black button below [BE WISE]()
--------------------------------------------------------------- The creativity spectrum Original isn't recognized as original until after the fact Creativity exists on a spectrum. At the far left end of the spectrum is the word RECOGNIZABLE. At the far right end of the spectrum is the word ORIGINAL. Most of the work we come across on a daily basis exists on the left end of the spectrum. It's recognizable. This doesn't necessarily mean it's bad work. It just means that we've seen it before and we will probably see it again. Work that is recognizable has an easier time being understood by the masses because the audience has plenty to compare it to. While recognizable work will never change the culture nor make its mark in the broader landscape of art, it tends to be highly commercial. This is a benefit that shouldn't be overlooked. Every once in a great while, however, we get work that is original. We get work that exists on the other side of the spectrum. At first, we might find ourselves hating this work because it's foreign, alien, strange, offensive, bizarre, etc. This is our brains' way of attempting to wrap our minds around something we've never seen before. As consumers, it's important that we lean into the work we feel tempted to push away. As creatives––who are after original work––it's important that we not get discouraged if it takes time for our work to catch on. Original isn't recognized as original until after the fact. Originality, at first, is unrecognizable. [BE ORIGINAL](
--------------------------------------------------------------- The grapevine principle Good things take a painfully long time ​ For the first two years, grapevines are practically useless. They don't produce grapes and when they do, they're so goddamn ugly and horrid they're unsellable. It's very bad business to be a grapevine farmer for the first two years. By the third year, the grapes aren't sweet enough to eat but they're sweet enough to drink. So, they're sold to winemakers to be made into Merlot, Pinot Noir, Grenache or Cabernet Sauvignon. It's not until the fourth year that grapevines become commercial and are sold as fruit to be eaten. The grapes are juicy, beautiful, heavy and hang from the vines like something melting. If you're going to commit seriously to something, try and give yourself at least four years for that something to bear fruit. [BE PATIENT](
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