A writer arrived at the monastery to write a book about the Master. "People say you are a genius. Are you?" he asked. "You might say so." said the Master, none too modestly. "And what makes one a genius?" "The ability to recognize." "Recognize what?" "The butterfly in a caterpillar: the eagle in an egg; the saint in a selfish human being."
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Genius is a high level of thinking. Every person wants to rise to the level of genius. But in order to be a genius, it is absolutely necessary to have good deeds along with high thinking. If we can express genius in one sentence, we understand that the main feature of genius is to feel the "joy and sadness" and especially the "pain and pain" of people and living things and be kind and helpful towards them. It is for this important reason that humanity as a whole remains flawed with its feeble thinking because it still does not understand. -Thinking is the raison d'être of thinking. To think and be silent, to speak, to listen and to see, to think, to think in order to serve humanity and be useful and useful to society. -It is very easy to erase from the lines every valuable thought that has been thought and written. But it is very difficult to write an explanation for an unthought thought.
which begs a question. What precisely is genius? I believe that genius is not a person but a process, a process in which someone determines to uncover their gift and, for a period, is able to step inside it. The “gift” is a self-explanatory state, and like a prize awarded in a DNA lotto — say, being born into beauty or into wealth — genius is no reason for arrogance.
Genius is not a single power, but a combination of great powers. It reasons, but it is not reasoning; it judges, but it is not judgment; it imagines, but it is not imagination; it feels deeply and fiercely, but it is not passion. It is neither, because it is all. It is another name for the perfection of human nature, for Genius is not a fact but an ideal. It is nothing less than the possession of all the powers and impulses of humanity, in their greatest possible strength and most harmonious combination; and the genius of any particular man is great in proportion as he approaches this ideal of universal genius.
Genius is the aptitude for seeing invisible things, for stirring intangible things, for painting things that have no features.
When I was about twelve, I used to think I must be a genius, but nobody's noticed. Either I'm a genius or I'm mad, which is it? "No," I said, "I can't be mad because nobody's put me away; therefore I'm a genius." Genius is a form of madness and we're all that way. But I used to be coy about it, like me guitar playing. But if there's such a thing as genius — I am one. And if there isn't, I don't care.
Genius, as we tend to talk about it today, is some sort of mysterious and combustible substance that burns brightly and burns out. It's the strange gift of poets and pop stars that allows them to produce one wonderful work in their early twenties and then nothing. It is mysterious. It is there. It is gone.
Genius...has been defined as a supreme capacity for taking trouble...It might be more fitly described as a supreme capacity for getting its possessors into trouble of all kinds and keeping them therein so long as the genius remains.
"Genius is the ability to leave entirely out of sight our own interest, our willing, and our aims, and consequently to discard entirely our own personality for a time, in order to remain pure knowing subject, the clear eye of the world; and this not merely for moments, but with the necessary continuity and conscious thought to enable us to repeat by deliberate art what has been apprehended and "what in wavering apparition gleams fix in its place with thoughts that stand for ever!
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One Minute Wisdom (1989)