True Genius

One of my life's great concerns has been the pursuit of true genius. Much of this quest comes out of my identity... I think of myself as exceptionally intelligent, and I really enjoy any activity that promises to challenge or expand my brain power.

There is also a strange cast of brilliance that has played major roles in my life. From my mother's simultaneously absent and present consciousness to my brothers' differing intellectual sensibilities (the younger; a common sense, human truth, the older; a radical, transhuman truth). The elusive yet key wisdom of teaching, namely, that there are different kinds of intellect, is more like a day to day aspect of my life.

Happy or sad, good or bad, intellect has been a foundation of my identity from the beginning. In my younger years I felt isolated by my mindfulness. My peers seemed interested in that which was trivial, and though I had passing fancies about being a part of their world, I was grateful for being smarter than all that. (This whole thing makes me smile nowadays. Think it was my intellect, or my arrogant and shitty attitude that isolated me? You be the judge.)

By my sophomore year in high school, I fancied myself a misanthrope. I think this is the teenaged ego defense to years of being the weird one. Anyhow, I really had a pretty elaborate disdain for people, including myself. I only did good things that way people would think me a good person, and this was a deception that had worked perfectly... everybody thought I was nice... even though inside me lurked a barely checked demon (no joke, this is how I thought of myself). And other people, other people were pale reflections of their selves, projecting false identities and failing to see the true value of other people (as evidenced by my inability to get a date).

All the while I quested for genius. Though I'm not the most fastidious student ever, I learned ravenously, soaking in every subject I could. Most people had a class or two that they hated and were bad at. I may have hated a few, but I was relentless in really getting my head around every idea I came to. At one point early in my search for genius I would have defined it as the ability to learn anything.

But I quickly moved on from there. Unsatisfied with being fed truths from the bounty of past thinkers, I moved into the persuasion that true genius was not to learn knowledge, but discover it. No longer was I content to simply soak in facts and figures. Rather, I would invent schemas and theories and test them against the facts and figures. Creativity became my intellectual centerpiece.

Somewhere in my loathing of my tortured immorality (which was, in reality a twisted form of ego trip), I toyed with the notion that the evil thinker was less restrained than the good thinker. Take a moment on it. The good person can't really consider all the possibilities that an evil person can. They have a moral restriction on their creativity. True genius, it seemed, rested in amoral thinking.

Early in my college career I managed to get over my immoral overdrama. I had been "pretending" to be a good person for long enough that I figured it had finally stuck, and I no longer fantasized that my evil brain was more powerful than a good one. Now my mind was onto a new form of genius. Philosophical fearlessness. No belief was safe. No societal norm uncritiqued. I got inside my head with a crowbar, prying off all the preconceived notions I had ever had and stripping them back.

While I wasn't nearly as bitter as when in high school, I had moved on to a new form of judgement. People who accepted things without question. I was now far smarter than those people who obediently believed that which they were told. True genius was intellectual Independence, and most of the people who I passed in the halls were vessels of unconsidered ideologies and uninvestigated ideas.

That notion of intellect failed when I started actually listening to the way those people thought. Funny thing. Despite never using a mote of philosophical language or academic framing, people I had once considered as inwardly blind were strikingly reflective. It turns out "regular" people think brilliant things all the time. Talking about it at length may not be their favored pastime... and they may not struggle with these issues on a daily business... but they do struggle with them... and if you stop trying to say it your way and listen, they will talk about them.

It was about that time that my head broke open. What had been an entirely solitary process for twenty some years suddenly had many new contributors. I started really listening to lots of people. Everyone, if I paid attention to how they thought, had something to teach me. There were also divine agents at work in my conciseness. God showed me things, angles spoke to me, and the elements of the world revealed lessons about the universe.

Honestly, since that moral/intellectual/spiritual daybreak, I've worried a lot less about the search for true genius. Don't get me wrong, being a smarty pants is still an important part of my identity, and I still struggle with issues of egotism. But as I sit here tap tap tapping away at my computer, I can confidently tell you that true genius isn't a particular way of thinking. More, lots of different kinds of genius that serve in different ways. True genius, for lack of a better phrase, is a particular "why" of thinking. Here's what I mean.

True genius is love.

Think on it. Love pays attention. Love is relentless in solving problems. Real love is fearless in the face of the truth and refuses to live in illusion.

I had once idealized the evil thinker for their unfettered creativity. Now I realize that it is the good thinker that is the true genius, because their intellectual task is harder. Moral thinking demands more creativity because it requires multiplicity, an attention to many different goods. Immoral thinking isn't better... it's lazier. Someone who only thinks of them selves is free to consider all kinds of violations of others. But this isn't unique to the selfish mind. Some of the most intellectually twisted people I know are the most moral. Good people can also imagine bad things.

But where the moral thinker shows their colors is not in fixating on the many immoral paths they can take, but the many moral ones. The paths of righteousness are no less complex. In fact, right actions are far more intricate, as they weave between the simultaneous goods of all involved. You want a chance to prove your brilliance? Start acting as though every speck of the universe is holy and worthy of respect and well being, then start living you life.

Interestingly, the word genius has only meant a person of brilliance since 1649. For hundreds of years before that, the word was used to describe the guardian spirits that protected people and places.

What?

Tutelary spirits. Guardian deities. Tasked to watch over people from the moment of birth and protecting the well being of places and things. These spirits were blessings, bestowing upon their charges boons and guiding their lives. Its not hard to see how the word genius came to mean "strong leaning" (from the spirits' guidings) and "natural talent" (from the spirits' blessings).

So, if you want to be a genius in the richest sense for the word, you must be more than just a smarty pants. You have to put your intellect into the service of others. You have to define your life not by the possibilities of your brain, but the necessities of those it protects.

If you want to be a true genius, you have to do more than think well. You have to think well about the well being of others. You have to love.

True genius?

Love.

Orders

When questioned about the heinous actions performed at the concentration camps, the German soldiers responsible deferred the culpability, claiming that they were simply following orders.

Its not an uncommon event in wartime. A soldier is given some kind of order that is morally questionable or down right wrong. We have some sympathy, of course. Soldiers are trained to take orders, after all. With a little imagining, we can feel the difficulty that must go on in that moment. Dissent, fail to obey, and do good... or concede, successfully obey, and do evil.

Imagine the mental process of the moral soldiers who execute such orders. Desiring to do good, they must highlight in their minds the origin of said order. They were being good soldiers... following orders. The one giving the orders... that is the one who is ultimately responsible for the travesty.

I think people are often willing to give these unfortunate men and women something of a break. Perhaps we really hope they would disobey the order, but we can understand the difficulty involved in it. Hitler, after all, was giving the orders.

For many years, that was the end of that issue for me. The head of the snake is the source of the monstrousness. That was until I heard this story.

Apparently, when Hitler would take a train across the country side he would at times pass these death camps. Knowing that they were coming, he would order the train attendants to close the blinds.

Wait. I thought he was a monster. Wouldn't he want to see the destruction he was wrecking? Wasn't he an unholy terror, lusting to warp the world into bloodshed? An insane dictator reaping death. Why would such a twisted man want to blind himself to the horrors he is orders created?

Now, it is not my aim to defend the actions of Hitler. Nor do I want to claim he was well intentioned. But I think this closing the curtains anecdote offers important insight to how humans are capable of committing great evil.

By turning a blind eye, leaders can distance themselves from the reality of their directives. They keep in mind the end, and put each of their strategic steps in service of that end. By staying focused on that distant goal they unfocus on what actually must be done to accomplish it. This is a basic abstraction that protects them from facing their actions. They are, after all, just giving orders. Its the soldiers who are the murderers.

But wait. Aren't the soldiers just following orders? Can this really be happening? Yes, actually, and it does. The commander says to him or herself, "My idea, but not my hands," while the commanded says to him or herself, "My hands, but not my idea." Each doing their best to silently defer the responsibility to the other. Maybe they can sleep at night, maybe they can't. But in the end, the evil gets done.

What to learn from this? Systems of human organization can facilitate great evil if the members of the organization do not each take moral responsibility for all the organizations activities. Also, we are called to publicly dissent when we see our organization go astray. By giving voice to these issues you guarantee that they do not silently pass, and that those involved see the impact of their actions.

Giving Good a Try

Can't tell you how many times people have tried to get me to indulge a vice by telling me, "Dude, you don't know what you are missing."

Chances are, they are right. There are some experiences that don't make any sense to an outsider. They may seem odd, or downright dangerous, but to the people in the know, it's really the only way to live.

Funny thing is, virtues are much the same way. You really can't explain how good they feel to someone who has never tried. From the outside they seem odd, or downright dangerous, but to people in the know, its really the only way to live.

There are even virtues and vices that aren't even fulfilling in the beginning. Beer, I hear, is an acquired taste. So is vegetarianism. In fact, ironically, on multiple occasions I've had the eventual good taste of booze professed to me by the same person who rejected the initial taste of soy milk or veggie burgers. I find it interesting the disparate causes that convict different people to acquire a taste.

One of the reasons virtuous behavior has unforeseen benefits is because we tend to protect our egos from the bad that we do. Often we won't let ourselves admit our wrong doing until after we have stopped.

So the next time you are being called to a virtuous action, instead of asking is it really morally necessary, just give it a try. You might just find that your new virtue frees your mind to find justifications that you would have never believed had they been offered as motivation before you gave it a try.

So give it a try. Trust me, you don't know what you are missing.

Purpose and Value

In the search for significance, many question the purpose of life. Why am I here? What was I made to do? What am I meant to accomplish?

Get me talking for any length of time, and I'll eventually start talking about purpose. "Purpose orders pain and pleasure," I'll say, "transforming fleeting happiness into lasting joy, meaningless suffering into powerful sacrifice." I have little doubt that there is indeed a purpose to my, and everyone else's, life. Finding purpose bestows power, cultivates fortitude, and fosters energy. Purpose it more valuable than nearly anything else.

All that being said, it is not purpose that makes your life valuable. Nothing ever made this so clear as my nephew Connor.

Connor was fatally brain damaged at birth. What had been an otherwise healthy pregnancy was botched in the delivery room. Faulty monitoring prevented the doctor from responding to dropping blood pressure. The acidity of Connor's blood rose unchecked. When he was finally born by way of the suction device on his head, his acrid blood had destroyed his brain.

Of course, we knew none of this at the time. All we knew was that there was something wrong. Put immediately on life support, Connor was rushed to the best children's hospital in 250 miles. For five days the machines pumped his lungs. The doctors ran tests. Mom and Dad cried. I read him the Hobbit. On the fifth day, the electroencephalograph determined that he had no brain function and never would.

It was Mom, Dad, both Grandmas, and myself in that little room when the doctor brought in Connor, his lungs hooked up to an hand pump gently worked by the nurse's gloved hand. We each held this child in our arms as the pump rasped away. Each saying good bye in our own way. Surrounded by a sea of language, and not a drop that could comfort us or him.

When they pulled out the pump, the final act that would cause this little child to suffocate and die, the room entered into what I can only describe as a twilight. Tony's in agony, repeating over and over, "This is fucked, this is fucked, this is fucked." My mom and Danielle's mom are trying to comfort their children. And Danielle holds her child, asking for nothing more than to have him back inside her.

Connor died in our arms.

Now, if you want to tell me that it is our accomplishments that give our lives value, then you have to look me in the eye and tell me that Connor's life had none. He never walked, he never talked, he never went to school, he never earned a living, he never had children of his own. Apart from the time he spent in the womb, he never even experienced the world. By nearly every measurement of purpose I know my nephew failed.

But his life had value. Not because of some end that he worked for, or some task that he performed, but an immediate, vivid, unstoppable value that sprang up from his life itself. He was not made significant by some calling, or a place in a grand design. He was significant because he was at all.

Never functionalize your humanity. You violate the sanctity that wells up in every moment. Your life has value, priceless value, far beyond anything you could ever say or do. Your successes and failures are important, but they are important because of the way they fit into a long term plan. But you, you have worth that flows out of your being, even as you read this.

Never functionalize the humanity of others. Just as you should never feel without worth, at no moment are the lives of others mere tools to be used. Springing from them is a miraculous and divine value.

Purpose? Generally I say, go get some. It really helps make sucky things not so bad and awesome things even better. But that purpose isn't going to make you more valuable. You have within you a worth that is beyond words. Trust me on this one. Sitting in that little room, holding my nephew, a twilight child, I searched for the words. There aren't any. You, me, and Connor all have the same, boundless price. A value that cannot be traded for anything else.

No task you could ever perform could increase it, and no failure could ever decrease it.

Guilt vs Biology

I often defend the value of emotions and spirituality in the face of humanistic and scientific ideals. This does not mean I don't like academics and technology. Nothing could be further from the truth. The first step when determining what is good is to determine what is real. Science (in cooperation with spirituality) really assists in this regard.

In fact, there are situations where our emotions are ineffective ways to alter our behavior, and a little bit of knowledge is actually all we need.

This story is about trying to loose fifteen pounds. I should get something straight. I've never had a serious weight problem. I'm active, and I usually eat pretty healthfully. In fact, there was a time of my life where I couldn't have gained weight. But as I got older, I started putting on a little fat on. Wasn't a huge deal, just five pounds at a time.

During this process, I tried to loose the weight. I did what I think most people do. I got fed up with the situation, I set a pound goal, then used diet and exercise kinda randomly to achieve that end. Oh, and my motivation? Guilt.

The guilt diet never worked for me. Maybe I'm no good at making myself feel guilty (though, I'm Catholic... how bad can I be?). What ever the reason, it just never worked.

Then, out of the blue, I went on the most effective not a diet ever. I had become interested in the biology behind exercise, metabolism, and eating. In pursuit of this end I created a spreadsheet (at the time I was also learning about Excel). The sheet worked like this. For every thing I ate I'd enter its caloric value. Excel would add that up for each day. I'd enter my current weight, which would be used to figure my daily caloric burn just for being alive. Then I would enter the amount of calories that any exercise I had done that day had burned. Subtract.

At the end of the day I'd have a total, positive if I'd eaten more than I'd used, negative if I'd eaten less. Then, day to day, it would keep a running total, the net gain or loss over the whole process.

I had no particular goal in mind. I never guilted myself. Instead, I started looking at my eating and exercise as it actually was. I'd eye that soda and think, "Worth a twenty minute walk?" And sometimes I'd go for it. Sometimes I wouldn't.

Just being actually aware made such a difference. Knowing I'd be entering it later made me conscious of how much I was eating, and what I was eating. Seeing all of my food and movement laid out in complete honest also gave me a sense of what I was actually doing.

At no point did I have to resort to guilt, bribery, deal making, willpower, or self denial. The biological truth, typed out in front of me, was all the motivation I needed. Without ever setting a goal, I achieved more than all those failed guilt diets in the past. I lost fifteen pounds, and have more or less kept the weight off to this day.

This is not a weight loss section. Rather, this anecdote is a testament to the fact that our emotions alone are not always the most effective tool for achieving our goals. Use the knowledge at your disposal. Be strategic. Throwing pity parties and going for the guilt trips is not the only way to change your behavior.

Sometimes knowing what actually is is all the motivation we need.