Gina A Rudan - Practical Genius: The Real Smarts You Need to Get Your Talents and Passions Working for YOU

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Copyright 2011 by Gina Amaro Rudan
Foreword copyright 2011 by Kevin Carroll
Illustrated by Francesca Prado

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First Touchstone hardcover edition October 2011

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Rudan, Gina Amaro.
Practical genius : the real smarts you need to get
your talents and passion working for you / by Gina Amaro Rudan.
p. cm.
1. Self-actualization (Psychology) 2. Genius. 3. Self-perception. 4. Success. I. Title.
BF637.S4R837 2011
158.1dc22
2011011987

ISBN 978-1-4516-2604-9
ISBN 978-1-4516-2606-3 (ebook)

My husband, Stephen, whose love and support permeate this book And for my son, Lucas, whose life is empowered by inventive play and from whom I learn something amazing every day

Ive been lucky to have known and worked with a lot of geniuses in my life, from the author Paulo Coelho to Cameron Sinclair from Architecture for Humanity to Mel Young, the cofounder of the Homeless World Cup, to Nobel Laureate Archbishop Desmond Tutu. To my mind, these folks are geniuses not for their accomplishments or intelligence, though they are certainly accomplished and crazy intelligent, too. What makes them practical geniuses, as Gina would describe them, is the unique combination of heart and smarts they possess, as committed to the joy, humor, and creativity in their professional lives as they are to excellence in the work they produce. You know one of these geniuses when you see one, believe me.

The first genius I think I ever knew was my great-grandmother Nana Carroll. Nana Carroll was my grandfathers mother. She was mostly Cherokee, and two long, pitch-black braids framed her face and fell past her shoulders. My grandfather Pop-Pop drove my brothers and me to see her every Sunday, each week following the same ritual: the scramble and scuffle to sit by a window; the squeak of the pleather of the car seat under my legs; the familiar sights and sounds and smells that came through the window all the way to Brook Street in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania, where Nana Carroll lived.

As much as I loved the ride to Brook Street, it always turned to dread as we got close to Nana Carrolls house. I knew she would be waiting for us, sitting in the rocking chair in her bedroom listening for us to thump up the stairs to say hello. Then, after giving us each a kiss, shed impose what felt like a life sentence on us, sweetly but firmly saying Its good to see you boys again. Now, before you go outside to play I need you to be still for five minutes. Be still. For five minutes. Three hundred seconds, to be precise. A lifetime to a grade-school-aged boy with ants in his pants and jumping beans in his pockets and a million shimmering play possibilities beckoning from outside Nana Carrolls bedroom window.

Before Id enter her room, Id pray for a pardon from the weekly torment, but it never came. So Id turn myself over to her, sacrifice my natural state of constant movement for the stillness she demanded.

300 seconds. When I had trouble settling down, shed gently touch my head or shoulder to soothe me.

245 seconds. A couple more squirms and fidgets, then finally stillness and silence.

215 seconds . I would begin to notice that I could see all sorts of things with my ears when I was still. The squeak of the floorboard under Nana Carrolls rocking chair. The clang of a chain-link gate in the neighbors yard.

180 seconds. Pop-Pops deep, warm voice telling a sports story to his brothers. The smell of coffee wafting through the cracks in the floorboards. My brothers stomach growling like an alley cat.

120 seconds. Bikes skidding on street gravel. Cheers from a stickball game that was happening without me. A basketball walloping a makeshift milk crate hoop. To which I could only listen, not respond.

60 seconds. One more long, painful minute of stillness to bear. And when precisely five minutes had passed, Nana Carroll would wave us on to freedom.

It wasnt until I was much older that I realized the genius of this ritual. She wasnt torturing us, she was sharing a very sacred and common Native American practice that she knew would be valuable to us as we gained life experience. She was passing on a gift of her genius, the art and power of being exactly in the moment and nowhere elseand the secret of awareness and discovery that could be found in stillness.

Ginas book, Practical Genius, brought back powerful memories of this lesson, how it took root in me and shaped the way I live and work and play in the world. We all have our very own innate genius, an intellectual sweet spot located somewhere between our heart and mind, Gina writes.

I live at that sweet spot, thanks in part to Nana Carroll sharing her genius with me. Be still now, and begin the journey of Practical Genius that will show you how to live in yours, too.

Kevin Carroll
www.kevincarrollkatalyst.com

PRACTICAL GENIUS

RANCESCA PRADO