Laurie Mattila, M.S.Ed. Career Counseling
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December 2009 Newsletter
Online Issue # 23

In this Issue:

See also, the print-friendly version of this newsletter (all the articles are on one web page).

Look for the next issue in April.

 

The Front Page

Genius at Work

“It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really doing nothing.”

Gertrude Stein
1874-1946

In late July, this Gertrude Stein quotation appeared in the Minneapolis Star Tribune in one of my favorite features: you don’t say by l.k. hanson. In case you don’t get the Star Tribune, you don’t say appears every Monday in a box on the Opinion Exchange page. Hanson selects and illustrates a quotation, like the one above. Being a person who likes to ponder things, I find rich material in these weekly creations.

In my work I’m fascinated by the sparks of genius I encounter. I intentionally watch for them, so I see a whole lot more than anyone would ever believe. It might seem to some that I do not grasp what genius is—something quite extraordinary, spectacular, rare—a one-in-a-million sort of occurrence; it certainly isn’t something you expect to find in ordinary people the way I seem to do.

I believe we all have our moments of genius, even if genius isn’t our everyday method of operation, the way we are day in and day out. Returning to Gertrude Stein’s words, genius isn’t the way a genius appears day in and day out either: sitting around doing nothing.

Everywhere I look I see people doing, often multitask doing. Most of us are busy, busy, busy—way too busy. Even people without 40+ hours of paid work report how busy they are. So busy, they wonder how they ever had time to work that much. All this busyness appears productive, but what is it producing? And is it producing what is truly desired?

Sitting around doing nothing appears suspect: aimless, unmotivated, lazy, unproductive, something we should apologize for doing, or not doing. How could sitting around doing nothing be associated with genius? Who would dare to enter into this experiment to find out?

Isn’t taking time to be, rather than to do, what vacations are intended for? Even then, it’s difficult to stop and be; the momentum of life propels us forward long after we stop. Not only are our lives busy, our minds are even busier, making it truly difficult to come to rest. Our thoughts are often speeding along hours after we need to be asleep, restoring ourselves for a new day.

It’s startling to admit how much of our activity isn’t generating anything new, helpful, or particularly interesting. It’s a lot of repetition: thoughts, conversations, behavior, plans, ad nauseam. There is so much to do, and do again, that we don’t have much room in our lives to create what is new to us. Our best ideas might never see the light of day in our rush to get it all done.

So, when I sit with someone who is taking time to stop, even briefly during an appointment, I know there is probably a backlog of thoughts and emotions waiting to be heard. There are fragments and snippets likely glimpsed before, but never given full attention. They constitute a real mix, everything from old grudges and disappointments, to hopes and dreams, to sparks of genius, waiting—like the next audience in line—for the movie theater to empty and everyone to move forward.

One of my responsibilities when I work with someone is to listen for the inner genius that reveals itself, and when the moment feels right to return to it and give it full attention. Over the years I’ve become more trusting of being able to recognize genius in a person. Often it’s the unique example that grounds a telling story, or a particular choice of words I’ve never heard before, or an aliveness that suddenly animates a conversation, or a life, that seemed to be going nowhere. Sometimes I sense it before my client does; sometimes it’s a mutual knowing. However it happens, it feels like we struck gold, oil, water, and the divine, all at once.

Daring to stop, remaining still enough to hear your own breath, gazing into the unknown expanse—all look like doing nothing. Sitting, breathing, and staring into space are likely prerequisites for meeting your own genius. Only after you’ve accomplished that, does it make sense to be busy, busy, busy making real what thrills your heart and soul.

 

With gratitude,

Laurie Mattila

 

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