Friday, 24 October 2025

On Defining Genius


My wife and I are watching Celebrity Traitors, and we’re frequently amused by how often the other participants refer to Stephen Fry as a ‘genius’. Stephen Fry is not, of course, a genius. He’s very knowledgeable, and quite intelligent, but not a genius. The overuse of the term genius tends to happen when people are too generous about what a genius actually is. It’s a bit like a dwarf claiming a person of slightly above average height is a giant. So, anyway, my sweetheart and I proceeded to pause Celebrity Traitors and discuss what constitutes a genius. “Fear not”, I said, “the Preface in my book The Genius of the Invisible God, and one of my letters in Dear Treasured You, briefly discusses this very thing.” 
😊

So, I emailed it to my sweetheart, and thought it might be of interest here too. This is how I view ‘genius’.  

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Excerpt from Dear Treasured You......

I don't think it is the case that a person is a genius. I think genius is a cosmic, metaphysical force - like love, beauty, justice, grace, mercy, joy and fulfilment - it's something greater than us that we tap into. Genius seems to me to be a comment about not just the within, but the without too - it's a term that rightly confers glory on individual accomplishment, but alongside which shines light on qualities that transcend the immediacy of the achievement. You can commend individuals for permanently changing the way that humanity perceives the world, and the high praise and regard is fully deserved. But in doing so, we are also, in a sense, giving them credit for discovering something that appears to be already existent but awaiting discovery. Shakespeare took playwriting to a level never surpassed before or since; Darwin helped revolutionise biology, Einstein did the same with physics; and Mozart did the same with music. But while there's no doubt that these minds, and many like them, have made huge contributions to our world - those contributions seem more like revelations that tap into something more ineffably profound and mysterious than the constituent parts of the contributions themselves.

I believe each of us can pursue our own excellence of self and draw profoundly from the well of potential within us, which involves the gradual bringing out of human qualities that most people believe are reserved for a few hundred special people. That is the scent of genius that we are forever following in the trailing winds of its mysteries. The art of words, numbers, visualisation and music convey deep truths about reality, and form a body of shared experience around which intellects and artists revolve.

Here's an interesting corollary of the above point. Many of the geniuses of yesteryear - in poetry, philosophy, art, literature, music and film - did not acquire the status of 'genius' until years (sometimes centuries) after their work was produced. It's as though humanity had to grow into its own shoes in recognising the wider picture that surrounds the genius of the contributions. We think we have uncovered genius when we come across talents like Shakespeare and Einstein, who can give exhibition to such extraordinary human qualities – either with brilliant use of language, or mathematical formulae in science, or something of that kind. But while it is true that some people are endowed with higher mental acuity and greater vision than others, genius is vast enough and prevalent enough to encourage the greatest exploration of the brilliant potential inside yourself. This might be the strangest paradox about genius; its provenance belongs without, but it can only be personally cultivated from drawing out the greatest potential from within.

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Excerpt from The Genius of the Invisible God.....

One of the ways I define genius is that the average, good and great producers of their craft do what others might be able to do with similar time, effort and creativity - whereas the genius produces craft that nearly all others would never produce with similar time, effort and creativity. In other words, a genius operates not by doing more within a dimension, but by dipping his or her toe into a new one that others didn’t see existed. Given the same tools, time, and imagination, the genius extracts results that the rest of us couldn’t even conceive were possible. When you consider real geniuses – like Galileo, Newton, Einstein, Dirac, von Neumann, da Vinci, Shakespeare, Mozart, etc - you’ll notice that where other intelligent and creative people improve upon what is, the genius taps into a profound landscape that reflects what could be - and makes it real before the world even has conception or language for it.

Engaging with the mind of a genius – if one is encouraged to pursue it to the maximum potential - is rather like sensing the gradual enlightenment as one watches the glistening night sky turn into a beautiful sunlight next morning. For ourselves as we watch the light illuminate the sky, the hours may seem like a long hunting trip; times of fighting the cold wind and steep climbs are interrupted with intoxicating moments of suspense and delight at what one finds when the uniformity of space and time is jolted by a new perspective, as we get more enthralled by the object of our chase.

I believe that the closer we can get to feeding our own genius and developing our potential, the more we will start to see that the world is full of philosophical cheats and deceptions – many of which begin as honest enquiries and steadfast endeavours. I use the term ‘feeding our genius’ because in this book I am going to speak of genius as being more than just a qualitative part of a human’s abilities – for I believe that whatever ‘genius’ we possess internally, either through inspiration or perspiration, is always being fed by a bigger form of genius out there in the conceptual landscape. We are always extrapolating from bigger things than ourselves.

William Burroughs drew a distinction in art between tonal and nagual art. The tonal universe is the more empirically predictable cause-and-effect universe, whereas the nagual is the less foreseeable, intractable elements of reality that burst through unannounced and beyond the radar of prediction. Burroughs saw the nagual as more unpredictable and harder to creatively construct than the more predictable and manageable patterns of the tonal. As he reflected, "For the nagual to gain access, the door of chance must be open".

Whether it be the painter with his formulae of form and colour applied to a canvas, or the writer with the congregation of words to paper, the true ‘genius’ of creativity is not in the person doing it, but it is being continually re-crafted by tapping into something transcendent of the self. This isn't a scientific viewpoint, it is an artistic feeling. Norman Mailer once suggested that William Burroughs was "possessed by genius" as opposed to ‘being’ a genius or even ‘possessing’ genius. The dynamic spontaneity of ‘genius’ is nagual according to Mailer and Burroughs, and to be possessed ‘by’ genius is to tap into something altogether special and grander than ourselves. At first glance, it might seem like something that finds itself located in the collective nature of human minds, in that we share it, and all, in our own way, seek to take possession of it. But even the collective human minds are obtaining the genius from somewhere much grander than themselves - it is too grand to be contained merely within the human species, stupendous as it is, nonetheless.

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