A Process of Disinhibition

First of all, it’s not that I push myself: I simply don’t hold myself back. I remove the inhibition I carry, like anyone else. We live in a culture of inhibition, a culture where the elementary school teacher raises a finger with imperial authority: “Don’t do that.” We have all lived through a culture of restraint, a culture of inhibition, a culture of sin, a culture of guilt—use whatever shades of meaning you like. And so, coming from that, I believe that a child doesn’t need to be pushed to do things; what matters is not frustrating their initiative, which is very different. Because it is one thing to push someone to act—which in fact also happens—but another to know that this force is something we are born with, each of us comes with our own little flame […]

What I have tried, as much as possible, is to create a process of disinhibition. It isn’t easy, one suffers a great deal. Especially in adolescence, which is a very difficult time; it’s very hard to be sure of where things are going when you don’t yet have much accumulated life or experience. In fact, I think that kind of certainty isn’t very desirable, because I don’t much care for people who are too sure of themselves, too sure of everything they do. To me, doubt is a fundamental element for growth, for development. So, in that sense, what I tried to do—if you’ll allow me the expression—almost systematically, was not to believe those who told me “it can’t be done”; even in myself, because there is also that inner voice that says “it can’t be done.” Why can’t it be done? Of course, it’s not about turning “it can’t be done” into “yes, it can be done”; what matters is to say, “let’s try,” “let’s attempt it,” “let’s give it a try.” From that “let’s try,” comes a succession of impulses, of stimuli, with which, amid doubts, problems, sufferings, and joys, one lives experimentally. One becomes the first subject of the experiment, and afterwards tries to share that search. To be more precise, I would say this happens simultaneously, or almost. It’s not that I first think and then act; I think and act at the same time in the things you are now seeing. 1

  1. Birri, Fernando and Jorge Ruffinelli, Soñar con los ojos abiertos: Las treinta lecciones de Stanford, 1st ed. Buenos Aires: Aguilar, 2007, pp. 366-368. 

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