Hope Bubbles Up from a Swirling Mix
July 12, 2006
7:57 a.m., MT

Music: 'Searchin' So Long', Chicago

Don't wanna get into this too much, because it's intensely personal and also because I'm still trying to work through a lot of it, but even before I learned the sad news I mentioned last night, Pink Floyd's Time had been weighing increasingly heavily on my mind. This morning, doing a brief round of web reading before starting work, B.W.'s moving tribute to Syd caught my attention, and reminded me of something I'd written a while back.

For most of my life I've felt a push, mostly from within, to do something ... that I have something unique and valuable to contribute. Now, I've no illusions that anything I might do will be as valuable or durable as those I listed in that essay, but if there is something worthwhile in me I want to get it out. And I don't think I've come close to accomplishing that.

What is it? I honestly don't know. When I was in graduate school I loved doing research, but never had the feeling that continuing that would satisfy this drive. Teaching came closer, in no small part because I exposed many to—and successfully infected some with—my deep-rooted skepticism and critical thinking. Then, I started on a path of writing, but took a parenting fork on that course and haven't been able to pursue it rigorously since. Maybe it's down that road, but I don't know. And that not knowing is part of what's eating at me. How can I scratch that itch successfully when I don't know what's driving it?

And time has always seemed my enemy in this quest. Every day passed has been considered a day lost ... running and running to catch up to the sun, that only comes up behind me again and again. I know that isn't a very healthy way to view one's passing life, but being in a culture that glorifies youth, and tends to portray aging as either a burnout or a slow fading of abilities, it's been hard to avoid. Thing is, though, even though I'm feeling the effects of age as a decline in some ways, in others I've never felt more sharp. And it's that latter curiosity that was fed by this long, but excellent Wired article, titled What Kind of Genius Are You?. A small taste:

What he [Galenson] has found is that genius – whether in art or architecture or even business – is not the sole province of 17-year-old Picassos and 22-year-old Andreessens. Instead, it comes in two very different forms, embodied by two very different types of people. Conceptual innovators, as Galenson calls them, make bold, dramatic leaps in their disciplines. They do their breakthrough work when they are young. Think Edvard Munch, Herman Melville, and Orson Welles. They make the rest of us feel like also-rans. Then there's a second character type, someone who's just as significant but trudging by comparison. Galenson calls this group experimental innovators. Geniuses like Auguste Rodin, Mark Twain, and Alfred Hitchcock proceed by a lifetime of trial and error and thus do their important work much later in their careers. Galenson maintains that this duality – conceptualists are from Mars, experimentalists are from Venus – is the core of the creative process. And it applies to virtually every field of intellectual endeavor, from painters and poets to economists.

I doubt I'm a genius of any stripe, and I know I won't be one of the very few from this time whose name echoes in any niche for some significant period of time after I'm gone. Even though some of you have graciously included me among some of the best of our day, I haven't contributed anything to merit that. But that isn't important right now ... what is important is that Galenson's observations have brought some peace to a part of me I didn't think would ever feel that.

I may just make it to wherever I'm going after all.

Sunni

Comments: 7 people have contributed to the conversation

On Wednesday, July 12th, at approximately 8:22 a.m. Mountain time, B.W. said:

Hmmm. I begin to grok why you and I seem to be on dancing on the very same beam from time to time. I have this same disorder," the desire to contribute something but frustratingly unable to figure out what that something is.

The Wired article was encouraging. I'd rather be a Twain or a Hitchcock than a Melville or a Welles anyway.

Don't sell short what you're doing just by sharing your thoughts. By doing so, you help others (us) examine our own lives and beliefs to see where we're going ourselves. And keep trying things - I suspect the truffles (must - have - more!!!) are an outgrowth of this thought process: You're thinking maybe part of your contribution is to tickle our sweet tooths.

I hauled the I-Bomb out and tossed it to the world out of just this kind of soul-searching - the need to do something; even if it's just offering this fun little trifle of an adventure story, it's something. And the process of finally getting it "out there" has helped me assess what I might have to offer.

I think we never really know for sure where we've been going until our days click to an end and we see where we are. It's all about the journey, doncha know.

On Wednesday, July 12th, at approximately 4:08 p.m. Mountain time, Michael said:

B.W. summed it up pretty well. Don't sell yourself short. You're still teaching folks, even if it is stealth teaching and we appreciate it. Those of us inflicted with this "disorder" are unlikely to ever find exactly what we're looking for, but the trip towards it sure has been interesting up to this point!
I don't know where I'll end up on my journey or what it is I'm looking for, but I do know the things I'm not looking for and that may be an important part of any of our trips.
As for your contention that you don't belong with those others...I beg to differ. I've read you stuff and I'd much rather have you representing us at the Dropping Knowledge thing than Sean Penn!

On Wednesday, July 12th, at approximately 6:29 p.m. Mountain time, Dr. Lenny said:

welcome to, The twilight zone (music) the children and the truffles bring great joy, but passing wisdom along in the search for truth is both fulfilling and frustrating. About a month ago i fell into a book on sacred geometry and the overwhelming oneness of everything has become very apparent. Continue being of value in areas where you can support successful achievement of the people that read here and we will continue to reflect that spirit back to you and the millions of conspirators who don't know it yet.

Research directed learning environments are the key - applying learning to accomplishing a task gives satisfaction in dual arenas, you learn and get something done. I have been too busy rolling balls that were formerly up in the air, down hills to their final resting places. I'll clue you in sometime in the near future - but hold on to your hat, because we'll all be riding jomama's donkey for a while.

On Thursday, July 13th, at approximately 4:26 a.m. Mountain time, William's Dad said:

Hey your words are part of the historical narrative. The early voices on the internet will have a greater significance to future study of our times.
Plus your a Mom... your legacy will ring out through your children and their children...
Whatever else you achieve (and you will) is gravy.

On Thursday, July 13th, at approximately 3:14 p.m. Mountain time, garry reed said:

Wouldn't call myself a genius either, but I definitely belong in the second group of trudging experimental innovators. At the rate I'm trudging, though, I'll need a couple hundred more years to get to where ever it is that I'm going.

On Friday, July 14th, at approximately 8:55 a.m. Mountain time, Sunni said:

Thanks everyone, for your encouraging remarks. Garry, I would call you a genius—your knack for writing about serious topics in a consistently pro-freedom and amusing tone is singular, and much appreciated.

On Friday, July 21st, at approximately 12:09 p.m. Mountain time, NonEntity said:

You said, "Even though some of you have graciously included me among some of the best of our day, I haven't contributed anything to merit that."

I would simply say that living your life honestly and thoughtfully is perhaps the biggest contribution one can make. I think you do that. I respect that in you.

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