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In Higher Creativity, the authors discuss this self-imposed limitation and argue persuasively for an enlarged image of everyone's creative potential. They examine the secret history of inspiration through contemporary and historical accounts of profound creative breakthroughs, and finally they describe a surprisingly simple and reproducible sequence that has often triggered these insights for outstanding innovators in business, science, and the arts. These apparently special people became special by harnessing, sometimes quite accidentally, the awesome power of the unconscious in the service of higher creativity. Following their example and using historically validated procedures for reprogramming the unconscious, you can learn to capture the lightning for personal breakthrough in your own life.
273 pages, Paperback
First published December 1, 1984
Talent does what it can. Genius does what it must.
Openness to experience implies a tolerance for ambiguity where ambiguity exists, and the ability to receive much conflicting information without forcing closure in the form of "I agree." "I disagree," "I believe," "I don't believe." "It can't be true," "Science says..." —the authors
Mine came to me early when I sat bewildered among other notions and said: "Take this and no other." I obeyed, and was rewarded...
After that I learned to lean upon him and recognize the sign of his approach. If ever I held back, Ananias fashion, anything of myself (even though I had to throw it out afterwards) I paid for it by missing what I then knew the tale lacked...
My Daemon was with me in the Jungle books, Kim, and both Puck books, and good care I took to walk delicately, lest he should withdraw. I know that he did not, because when those books were finished they said so themselves with, almost, the water-hammer click of a tap turned off...Note here: When your Daemon is in charge, do not try to think consciously. Drift, wait, and obey.
After a night spent in fever and sleeplessness I forced myself to take a long walk through the country. It looked dreary and desolate. Upon my return I lay down on a hard couch. Sleep would not come, but I sank into a kind of somnolence, in which I suddenly felt as though I were sinking in swiftly flowing water. The rushing noise formed itself into a musical sound, the chord of E flat major, whence developed melodic passages of increasing motion. I awoke in sudden terror, recognizing that the orchestral prelude to Das Rheingold, which must have been long lain latent within me, had at last been revealed to me.
When natural inclination develops into a passionate desire, one advances towards his goal in seven-league boots.