Last week, I wrote about Upper Limit Problems, which are the ways in which we sabotage ourselves when we’re on the cusp of achieving more. The Upper Limit Problem marks the ceiling, or wall, of what we think is possible for ourselves—as we approach this edge, we manufacture all the reasons why we should play small. (You can read the newsletter here—Gay Hendricks, the coach and author of The Big Leap who coined the terms, believes there are Four Hidden Barriers.) On the other side of this wall is our Zone of Genius, waving a gentle flag for what’s possible, and perhaps what’s intended for us. Ironically, the Zone of Genius is where we feel most at ease—most bountiful, abundant, and in flow—but we really have to work to get there, in part because it feels…too good.
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Below is Hendricks model—he offers that most of us spend our lives in our Zone of Excellence and Zone of Competence. I filled out the four quadrants with the hope that you’ll feel inspired to do the same. It’s liberating to recognize where you’re actually a liability, and similarly, what you’re good at but where you feel little energy.
ZONE OF INCOMPETENCE
You probably understand this Zone intuitively: It’s the spaces and rooms where you are not only not uniquely gifted, but where you feel unmoored and incapable. This is likely where you have a lot of learned helplessness, too, though the helplessness might be rooted in real incompetence.
TECHNOLOGICAL SYSTEMS. I’m fine with a computer and can do some basic troubleshooting, but anything beyond that breaks my brain and requires a trip to the Genius Bar. When I met my husband in 2009, I owned multiple wireless routers, but I couldn’t figure out how to set them up, so I dragged my laptop all over my NYC apartment while it was tethered to a 20-foot-long ethernet cord. Remember those? The first time Rob came over, he set up my router—which apparently is really not hard. This space is one of Rob’s Zone of Excellence if not Zone of Genius—he took my son’s broken 3D printer apart the other night, fixed it, and reassembled it. Meanwhile, I was hunting for the Warranty.
PHYSICAL SYSTEMS. I have terrible spatial awareness and don’t understand how things are built. Similar to above, my Zone of Incompetence is counterpoised to Rob’s Zone of Excellence/Genius. He can build/fix/repair anything physical and intuitively understands how it was made. I find this stunning and confounding.
COMPLEX EXCEL. As finance friends remind me, Excel is for numbers and formulas, not words. I love putting words into Excel. While I’m good at math, my brain breaks when I try to create pivot tables or use other complex keystrokes. I can read a P&L statement but please don’t ask me to create one. (In this vein, I’m excellent at algebra, which is verbal math, and not good at geometry and trigonometry, which is spatial math.)
NATURE TAXONOMY. Random example, but I come from a family of birders—and my oldest son has wild taxonomic retention. This trait skipped me. I can’t remember the names of people I meet, much less birds, animals, plants. My brain doesn’t codify or organize the world in this way.
BAKING. As an adult, I’ve tried to bake cookies twice—and failed. I don’t have the patience to follow recipes closely and I don’t understand chemistry, which is also in my Zone of Incompetence.
ZONE OF COMPETENCE
This is the Zone in which you’re adept, but find little joy. I would be relieved to outsource the below for the rest of my life.
COOKING. I’m a decent cook, not exceptional—I can make food that tastes good and follow recipes well enough to host a decent dinner party and please my children. I do not shine here, but I get by.
VACATION PLANNING. I do this in our family. I’m mega-organized and have high attention to detail, and because this is in Rob’s Zone of Incompetence, it falls to me. That said, I do not put together unparalleled itineraries and always miss good spots that I wish we had tried. Some of this is rebellion, but some is lack of interest. I would love to outsource this type of planning and organization to someone else, as I don’t enjoy it and would much rather just go on a vacation and not make any decisions! This is also why I repeat trips. (See the recent newsletter on the cognitive relief of routines!
EVENT PLANNING. As I was helping my fellow parents decorate for the 6th-graders’ graduation the other week, I was reminded that while I have good taste and a decent-enough eye, I’m not naturally suited to planning events. At all. My fellow parents—the ones who planned and designed all of the festivities, like a rainbow ombré wall—are superlative at making things feel special. So is my friend Richard Christiansen of Flamingo Estate (podcast episode is here). We had dinner last weekend and I was telling him that my version of a retreat would be a simple room, some water and snacks, and hours of hours of content. His version would be…something else entirely. (He hosted a book party for me that involved synchronized swimmers.)
ZONE OF EXCELLENCE
Per Hendricks, the Zone of Excellence should be marked with DANGER flags. Most of us spend a majority of our time in our Zone of Excellence. We’re comfortable here, the output is excellent, but it is not our unique gift. As Hendricks explains, “We’re tied down by the forces around us. The people around us want us to stay in our Zone of Excellence. We’re a lot more reliable there.”
This one is pretty easy for me to categorize as it’s where my workhorse tendencies, in particular, shine. And it’s where most people are eager to enlist me—as I’ve gotten older, I feel more resistance to this work, though I’m very comfortable here and know exactly how to do it well.
GHOSTWRITING. I’m great at structuring people’s thoughts, I have high attention to detail, I work quickly, and I’m an excellent interviewer, so I always get the nut (see below). I like ghostwriting—there’s no ego in it for me and I find it relaxing, but I recognize it’s not always the highest and best use of my time.
CONTENT STRATEGIES. I can do this in my sleep. I know how to analyze and assess success (and therefore determine what will work), create repeatable templates and rubrics, and scale the work efficiently. I’m excellent at this, but not sure that it’s why I was put on this planet. Doing it makes me feel a little tired, though it’s what people seek me out for most frequently.
BUILDING & MANAGING TEAMS. I’m legitimately great at this: I can spot and nurture stars, particularly in unexpected places (I don’t care about educational pedigree at all). I believe in autonomy, clarity of expectations, and removing hurdles, which makes me an ideal leader for those who do not want to be managed. But I don’t love this, I’ve always preferred to be an individual contributor and to work alongside people, rather than as their boss.
ORGANIZING IDEAS. I have a lot of processes and procedures for keeping thinkers and thoughts straight (I don’t have a photographic memory, I’m just very organized). I find this work very soothing, and at this point I have pretty encyclopedic knowledge about some spaces. (You can find my book recs here.)
ZONE OF GENIUS
As discussed in last week’s newsletter, the Zone of Genius triggers the Upper Limit Problem and all of its corresponding baggage—namely a lot of negativity and distraction and self-sabotage to keep us from achieving our potential. It’s the voice that suggests that what’s ease-ful, joyful, and fun for us can’t possibly pay our mortgage.
This reminds me of a friend (A) who told me about counseling another friend (B) who was setting out on her own to be a consultant. When friend A saw the bill of services and what B was charging, she noted that B’s core gifts were not reflected in what she intended to bill the client. When A asked, B said: “Oh, that part is easy for me, I don’t think I should charge, it’s just what I do.” Friend A pointed out that B’s core gifts were her primary value, and what the client should be paying the most to access. I think this is typical. If it doesn’t feel like work, we don’t think it is work or that we can or should be compensated for it. If it’s attached to our being, then it can’t be quantified as doing.
Hendricks remarks that when he’s coaching clients to tap into their Zone of Genius, he invariably hits an underlying fear, that “underneath every complaint: If I took the Big Leap into my Zone of Genius, I might fail. What if I really opened up to my true genius and found that my genius wasn’t good enough.” He notes that asking people to step forward means they “risk discovering the ugly possibility that [they] don’t have a Zone of Genius.” But guess what? We all do.
I think the word genius can trip people up, and this is where its etymology helps. Per the OED, it’s Latin: “innate ability present from one’s birth, innate ability or inclination.” In some ways this is your daimon: It’s what you’re called to do, and the ways in which you are uniquely gifted. (Here’s a newsletter on James Hillman, the daimon, and creativity.)
Here are four questions Hendricks asks to help clients determine what their Zone of Genius might be:
What activity do you most love to do? What you can do for long stretches without getting tired or bored?
What work do you love to do that doesn’t feel like work?
When you’re at work, what produces the highest ratio of abundance and satisfaction to time spent? (You might do it for five minutes, but it generates a huge leap in thinking in the organization.)
What is the unique ability that you possess?
Here are mine:
INTERVIEWING PEOPLE. I love asking questions and always have. And I have no problem “going for it,” not in a gotcha journalism way but because I really want to understand. I’m excellent at building intimacy and creating trust via curiosity and listening—this is very real for me and it’s consuming. I almost invariably go into a flow state.
FINDING PATTERNS & SYNTHESIZING. This is joyful for me and also how my mind works. I love finding threads from disparate thinkers and pulling them together into coherent meta-views—and I’m really good at using my intuition to find the patterns and themes in culture. This is where I tend to be “psychic.”
IDENTIFYING & WRITING CORE STORIES. Whether it’s brand stories, mission and value statements, op-eds, or book chapters, I’m really good at understanding and stating not only what’s present, but what’s possible.
HOLDING THE ENERGY OF GROUPS. I can feel into people. I know how to balance groups, and get people to settle and be at ease. (Not all the time, and not with all people, but if there’s resonance, I can hold the container.)
It’s wild to me that I make some money talking to people for a living. I’m not at the point where I can live in my Zone of Genius exclusively, but it’s certainly something to aspire to. What I love about this exercise is that it starts to reveal a panoply of unexpected gifts. I recommend doing this with friends and trying to create Venn diagrams. Even with people with whom you closely relate, you’ll see a wide spread, i.e., you might converge a bit on COMPETENCE and even EXCELLENCE but diverge widely on GENIUS. It’s a good reminder that we’re all uniquely gifted, and that sometimes our gifts are not well-recognized, culturally or otherwise.
Let me know where you net out.
THE LATEST FROM THE PODCAST:
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6/3: Getting back into our bodies with Prentis Hemphill
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Full archive HERE
My New York Times bestselling book—On Our Best Behavior: The Seven Deadly Sins and the Price Women Pay to be Good—is out now.
I started listening to The Big Leap after reading your last post. I’m still working to identify my zones this clearly and succinctly. Thanks for the initial exposure to the idea and the example.
Thanks for writing about this. Lots to think about and I’ve been currently on that same edge of zone of genius. I know where I thrive at, but haven’t taken the leap. Also…you can outsource some portions of cooking/vacation/event planning to ChatGPT! At least the ideation and organizing aspect of it!