Genius

I have been thinking lately about genius, the kind that one in a million posses. How do we discover and cultivate that? Can we? Or is it strictly inherited?

Malcom Gladwell, in his book Outliers, suggests that it takes a minimum of 10,000 practice hours to rise to the elite level. On the other hand, you have autistic savants who may discover their genius in a day. I am fascinated with both camps, the plodders who perfect their skill over time, and the uninitiated who unveil their talent in an instant. One group shows most of us how it’s done, while the other just amazes us in drop-jaw fashion.


German researchers back Gladwell's view. They studied violin players for decades and discovered that the elite practiced for more than 10,000 hours. The very fine but not quite elite accumulated, on average, around 4,000 hours during the same time frame. In other words, the finest players inevitably practiced way more than everyone else. Hard work consistently won the day.


Bill Gates and Paul Allen, two programmers who's skills are legendary, had the good fortune of going to a private school that offered computer programming way before just about anyone else. They also both lived near a university and practiced programming there, sometimes waking up at 3 in the morning and sneaking out of the house to program for several hours. By the time they dropped out of college, they, like the elite violin players, had put in their 10,000 hours.


These plodders seem to possess more than anything else the passion and drive to practice, practice, practice until they develop extraordinary skills. These aren’t folks who just show up half-heartedly or who burn both ends of the candle before quickly burning out. This group works until their genius is crafted and showcased. In fact, this group’s genius is their ability to generate consistent effort over a long time period that, ultimately, generates amazing results. Their genius, in other words, lies within and drives them to ultimately produce something extraordinary.


The second group, in contrast, has their genius, it seems, bestowed upon them. At four years old, the blind and autistic Derek Paravicini heard a piano and lunged toward it, and after he shoved the little girl from the stool who had been plucking out a sweet melody, he began hitting the keys with his fists, fingers, elbows, feet, forehead and nose. Without so much as a lesson, this impaired toddler banged out a remarkable version of “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina.” Years later, this young man, who cannot count to ten or even tie his shoe, can remember every piece of music he has ever heard, and can play it perfectly, uniquely and with great feeling.


Like Derek Paravicini, Daniel Tammet’s gift came to him and revealed itself when he was four. Daniel discovered numbers and his ability to calculate almost anything mathematical. He says he sees sparks going off in his head every time he sees a huge calculation and as the sparks take shape and crystallize he sees the solution. Ask him what 37 x 37 x 37 x 37 is and he will tell you. He sees pi as a landscape of shapes that mesmerize and inspire him. He loves it so much he learned and recited, without a single errot, the first 22,500 digits.


These folks are truly gifted. Their gift comes, not from choice and effort, but from something that has chosen them. This genius suggests to the rest of us that there may be something amazing within us, something innate, something inexplicable. Like Harry Potter who took a hit from Voldemort and survived, these geniuses cannot explain why or how they do what they do. It just comes to them. It just is. These remarkable folks are unwitting recipients who bear their gift as testaments to nature’s power and favoritism. Maybe not so ironically, these folks are often bestowed with an equal measure of disability. Nature seems to announce, in these cases, that one must pay for the given gift, not in dollars but in physical and mental misfortune. Balance achieved.


Whichever way genius appears, whether over time with much effort or instantly like a lightening strike, I, for one, am inspired by its mark. I appreciate its wonder and relish its product. Now, if only we can learn to discover and produce that genius within each of us, our world would be a wonderful world indeed.