"Even 'Geniuses' Have to Study"

“Let me ask you a question”, I said, slipping into pseudo-Socratic mode like I sometimes do when I counsel. This is my patented “guide question”. I’m trying to guide the young man to an answer but not necessarily MY answer. He needs his answer; an answer from himself for himself; an answer that he can own so that he can operate more effectively within the situation. The young fella – just a hair beyond a month into the matrimonial crucible – looked at me. A hungry little finch – waiting. Waiting to devour a few crumbs of wisdom from the mouth of a mentor. We’d been eating and talking for a couple of hours at this point. Talking about ministry and leadership, about life and love. It was HIS love life that prompted the question:

“What type of husband does your wife’s actions tell you that she needs?” I asked him.

Inside my head I’m thinking: “Genius!” Cuz that’s what I call myself when I surprise myself like that and, uncharacteristically, say stuff that is moderately insightful. The full phraseology stolen from a Richard Pryor routine of years gone by: “The boy is a genius…need not pencil nor paper!”

This question was gonna help the kid. I mean, I had to admit the question WAS insightful. It didn’t linger in the air for that long. As a matter of fact, it didn’t linger at all. Everything BUT the question seemed to slow down – at least for me everything seemed to slow down. A surreal-like texture, as thick as maple syrup, settled around our breakfast table as I became “glazed over” in thought. The question however, picked up speed. First, it hit the young man's forehead right at his thinning hairline and, it seemed, bounced back toward ME! I bobbed with the skillful agility of Muhammad Ali (in counsel I’m used to dodging my own questions. After all, this ain’t about me – it’s about him). Missing me, the question whistled past my left ear. (that’s my good ear y’know).

The question must’ve ricocheted rather sharply off the small rim that protruded from the wood panel that separated our booth from the booth behind me, because it launched upward abruptly. It dinged a faux stucco ceiling tile out of its position, then bounced off of the waitress pick up counter causing jelly to roll. From there it pinged off of the large industrial coffeemaker where, in its wake, cups rattled in their saucers. Next it reverberated off of the wall with speed sufficient enough to bore through the wax in my aforementioned good ear. And there it settled comfortably like an earwig in a blanket - echoing:

“What type of husband-ban-baan-baaand…”, oh shit! (I jiggled my forefinger frantically in my ear);

“…does your wife’s-ife’s-iife’s-iiife’s…“ (Whoa, hold-, whoa Lord! That question wasn’t meant for ME!

“…actions tell-ell-ell-ell you-oo-ooo-oooo that she need-eed-eeed-eeeeds?” Fuck! I wanted to jab a toothpick in there and stab it dead.

It assaulted my consciousness like that damn “five dollar foot long” song. It seems that the question that my so-called “genius” had intended for HIM, was having a deafening – and definite – effect on ME!

When the clouds cleared from my field of vision I was glancing his way. He was just sitting there. Not looking at me. Thinking – I suppose. Maybe the question did linger for him. We had sat in silence for a minute maybe. Perhaps more. Maybe he was just pretending he didn’t see any of this “really wild weird” shit that was happening all around him.

But that’s where our conversation ended. I knew that if there were any nibblets of nourishing wisdom to be reaped, he would have to mine them through watching, meditating, contemplating and praying. I simply said, “It’s a rhetorical question” and we left it at that.

Since then, this superball of a question has been ringing in my ear. It has lost neither clarity nor poignancy. It's echo growing stronger and increasing in importance. It IS an important question, especially with "this thing we do". And sometimes the answer is as easy as single digit arithmetic – but most times not. Yep, I may be a “Genius!” And I may “need not pencil nor paper”. But if I’m going to reap any nibblets of nourishing wisdom from this, they will have to be mined through watching SugarAnne, meditating on meanings, contemplating action and praying for wisdom.

After all, even “geniuses” have to study.