Genius is the capacity within all humans to bring something entirely new and unexpected into being.
In this sense, though it’s perfectly human and natural, it also feels almost like magic or divine intervention. One moment our minds are blank. In the next, an entirely new idea or possibility has arisen, seemingly out of nowhere, often through no perceived doing or intention of our own.
How this creative spark comes to us or what circumstances provoke it remains largely a mystery. We may try to create definitions, frameworks, or philosophy to pin it down. And we might try to capture the essence of our own unique flavor of genius. But this is ultimately a fool’s errand, an attempt to give shape to liquid or words to the ineffable.
This is similar to the notion expressed in the first lines of the Tao Te Ching:
The Tao that can be told
is not the eternal Tao
The name that can be named
is not the eternal Name.
The genius that can be fully explained, expressed, or captured is not our true genius. Our deepest, fullest genius remains always just a bit beyond our mind’s conscious grasp. There will always be ways to know it more deeply. There will always be more left to discover.
But it still may be helpful to describe it, however imperfectly. So let’s try.
Think of your genius as a stew, not a salad. Its ingredients don’t sit neatly beside one another. They cook and blend into one another. Over time, new flavors and textures arise. Together, they become something none of them is alone, something that can never be reduced back down to its parts.
This is a recipe only the universe knows in full. But we can at least start with three key ingredients: passions, talents, and values.
This is an excerpt from my upcoming book The Antihero’s Journey: From Burnout to Real Contribution in Polycrisis Times. To read other excerpts, go here.
