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.