The Loss of Genius

Each of us has a covert belief that somewhere within us lies a genius, waiting to be realized. This is doubly held with the addition of our children. Indeed we impress the belief upon our kids that, "You are truly special. You can do

anything

you want to do: Be anything you want to be." The other day, my daughter said she'd decided she wanted to be an ice skater. Precious. But come to think of it, we live in the subtropics, she bumps into things regularly on dry, level ground, and we don't have sizeable investments to fund such a venture. Now what? I think I smiled, and said, it'd be fun to ice skate some time as a family, and that roller-skating was great exercise too.
The question is, what do we do when our notions of genius evade us and reality smacks of anonymity, mediocrity, or just plain hard work? When the contribution we feel called upon to make ends up in the lengthy will-call list? How do we reorient ourselves to still apply what we've been given when our grandiosity has met reality, and it hardly seems worth the effort any more?
Blogging felt like my entry into the greater world of ideas and promised discovery. It doesn't take long to feel, "Why bother?" when you get an inkling of the amount of material out there. I felt rather sheepish for having joined the throng of self-publishers; eager for an audience, a following.
A friend's teen has a pursuit of the week, she absolutely pines to do. Take up guitar. Try out drums. But the father balks at purchasing the items, for he knows when it proves to be hard work and does not afford her instant celebrity status, the wonderlust will wear off, the practice hours hardly feel worth it, and the money will have been unwisely spent. A toy maker shared his frustration with kids today. They want to instantly learn and apply the tricks of the trade. They don't value the process of learning to carve, but want to know how long it will take and be speeded towards wowing their friends with what they can do.
We've lost touch with the joy within the work itself. The satisfaction of creating, for its own sake, whether or not it is a rarity or the only of its kind.
In Alcott's "Good Wives," both Amy and Laurie had to come to the realization that their inner genius of composer and music fell sadly short, and had a realignment of goals to make afterwards. They both still found pleasure and merit in their pursuits.
So, whether or not I am a born writer, I want to write. Whether or not I am the best cook out there, I want to try new recipes. If my drawing is stilted or mere copies of photos I like, I will still choose to create it. We are born to create, to apply, to labor and to love and not to be bound to perceived impact or where we rank in comparison with others.
"Each one should work heartily, as serving the Lord and not men."
We are to:
1. Work with and use the time and resources given: and to help our children discern and do the same:
2. Be released from the need for acclaim and notoriety
3. Let the process and the application of oneself and one's God-given inclinations be its own reward, even if it only seems to be for the way it transforms us.
4. Encourage others to do the same.