I used to plan out what I was going to write the night before I wrote my blog.
I’d spend time thinking of topics. Then I’d spend most of my morning journaling session and my shower thinking about arguments and points to make and the way it’d all flow together.
I may have only spent say 30 minutes writing. But I easily put in a few hours thinking about it.
Mostly because I didn’t trust myself.
I was still operating most of the time from the belief that I was wrong. That I’m “too much” and “not enough.” That I need to overthink every action in my life.
Because there are rules. And we visionaries learn early on how to identify the rules. To know how we’re supposed to act over here, and what people want from us over there.
We learn to be masters at walking into a room and immediately spotting the dynamics. Because, if we start from the baseline that we’re “too much” and “not enough,” then we can’t trust ourselves.
So the rules keep us safe.
We just have to think things like, “Is that right? Does that make sense? Will people understand? Will people like it?”
We’re so used to over-explaining ourselves and justifying our emotions that this type of questioning just kind of becomes second-nature.
We get really good at knowing what others want from us. And really good at objectifying ourselves. Serving up the image most necessary on a platter and hiding away the ugly parts—the “too much” and “not enough” that no one wants.
And I was a master at it. Even if I couldn’t see it or admit it to myself. I was a master at it.
So, naturally, when I started this blog—and maybe for the first year or more—I did a lot of planning. To predict what people would want from me. What would trigger them. And to make sure that something intelligent would come out.
Because, left to my own devices, I was positive I wouldn’t say anything worthwhile. Let alone genius.
And it wasn’t just the blog. I did it in interviews. On summits. With friends and family. I started noticing all of the places I over-analyzed and planned my words. All of the times I over-explained myself and justified my thoughts and emotions.
So I split myself in half. Offered up the stuff people wanted. And hid away the rest.
Unfortunately, what I didn’t know at the time was that “the rest” was my genius. Every “too much,” “not enough” piece of myself was the part that couldn’t fit into everyone else’s boxes. The stuff that was paradigm-shifting, world-changing, innovative.
And I’ve watched my own evolution. How much less I started planning—just about everything in my life. How much less I over-analyzed my words. Or second-guessed my reaction.
How much I knew with absolute certainty that I am a genius. And that whatever comes out that day is genius.
Not everyone will resonate with it. And that’s cool. I mean, there are lots of genius filmmakers or composers whom I don’t resonate with.
But it doesn’t mean it’s any less genius.
I just let my fingers glide across the keyboard. And something comes out. And then something more. And 30 minutes goes by. And I hardly noticed a second pass. And a post is just done.
Or I’m chatting in an interview in the Friday Faire. And we have no idea what we’re talking about, beyond a loose topic title. But somehow 30 minutes has passed, and a provocative, shifting conversation has just occurred.
Or I’m talking about tapping into your genius in the Sacred Circle. And I’m excitedly raising my voice and making jokes. And suddenly an hour is up, and we just had a call.
Like it just happened. All of it. Without much planning at all. Something came forward. And it happened in a space where time seemed to stand still. And where this was the only thing I wanted to focus on in the entire world.
The place of genius.
If we knew—if we really, really knew—just how genius we were, we’d never doubt or question or over-plan or second-guess ourselves. We’d just let it happen. And happen, it would.
Because, once we get out of the way and take our doubts and concerns with us, the flow of genius just happens.
And the thing is—we’ve all experienced it before. Like when we’re having a really deep conversation with a best friend, and we look at the clock and can’t believe how many hours have passed. And we had so many epiphanies. And it was all soul-nourishing.
We lost track of time. We were so invested in the moment. We forgot to question or doubt ourselves. And genius happened.
My intention is to have every moment of my life be like that deep conversation with a best friend. Or, at least, as many moments as possible.
Where I’m fully me. Fully present. And I can just trust that what comes forward is perfect and right. Because I’m perfect and right.
I’m not fucked up or broken or wrong. I’m not “too much” or “not enough.” I’m genius.
Every fucking time. I’m genius.
And, sure, some people might not resonate every time. That’s cool. But would a genius doubt their entire being because a few people don’t resonate? How preposterous.
When we know our genius, we don’t question ourselves as much. When we know our genius, we don’t have to try so hard. When we know our genius, we can just let it flow.
It’s like catching a rhythm, a melody, and you just jump right into the flow. And it carries you. Your genius carries you. Because it’s that point of connection to something bigger than yourself.
Listen here, visionary. You are a genius. You are. Period.
You get to have an emotional reaction or emotional freakout to that statement, but it doesn’t make it untrue.
You are a genius.
You’ve seen it with your closest friends. You’ve seen it when you were so invested and doing something you love. You’ve seen it in moments of sheer miracles.
You are a genius.
If you knew that deeply, would you be able to trust yourself?
Questions for Reflection:
*Answer in a journal, in the comments right here, or take it over to the Sacred Branding® Facebook group where we can support one another:
Do you tend to overthink or second-guess yourself?
— Do you spend a lot of time planning out what you’re going to say or write? Do you often second-guess yourself or feel like you need to over-explain yourself?
— Do you not trust that genius will just come out of you, unprompted, if you allow it? Do you worry that what you’re sharing isn’t “good enough” or is maybe “too much” for some people?
— What if you’re a genius? What if genius comes out of you naturally without even trying? What if the only thing you have to do is know and trust that you are a genius, and you will be shocked at where your life takes you?