The Superpower of Divergent Thinking

“If You Give A Divergent Thinker a Chore”

My approach to chores is reminiscent of the children’s book ‘If You Give a Mouse a Cookie’:

If I go outside, I’m going to notice that there are bird droppings on the front porch that need to be power washed away.

While power washing the front porch, I’ll notice that the sidewalks could use a fresh cleaning, so I might get carried away and power wash all the sidewalks and even the driveway.

As I wash past the flowerbeds, I’ll notice that they’re a little bare and the old shrubberies need tending to. So I plant new flowers and trim the existing ones.

Stepping back to admire my work, I’ll realize that the windows are dingy from the water spraying up on them from the power washer, so I wash those windows with a squeegee.

Since I already have the window washing supplies out, I proceed to squeegee every exterior window of the house.

While putting the ladder and squeegee away, I notice that mud got on the bottom of the ladder when I was washing windows, which transferred to the sidewalks, and so…

I’m going to want to power wash the concrete.

The Search for My Superpower

A company I once worked for had an initiation ritual where all new hires had to introduce themselves to the entire company and disclose a unique superpower—one that previous co-workers were unaware of and that could prove useful in a zombie apocalypse. Although likely designed to be a disarming icebreaker, aiming to put new hires at ease, the response was subjected to scrutiny and playful follow-up, and it was an anxiety inducing exercise. I considered myself a hard worker, and was confident in my professional aptitude, but I wasn’t in a personal space at that time where I could identify a superpower within myself, and I felt deficient.

I ultimately just chose an amusing hereditary quirk called “snatiation,” which makes me sneeze when I’ve had enough to eat. It didn’t exactly fit all of the criteria, but it was entertaining enough and didn’t allow room for much follow-up, prompting for a swift transition to the next person and a quick end to my discomfort at having a spotlight on my inadequacy.

However, the conclusion of the incident didn’t mark the end. Instead, I spent the next year in existential reflection, still trying to identify what made me unique.

Captivating Chaos

“I had no idea your brain worked that way. I was captivated!”

I was flattered and pleased with myself after receiving this message from a friend and former coworker as a response to reading the collection of blog writings I’ve been diligently crafting since May.

I started writing about our summer adventures about a month after I was laid off. The time off had given me a chance to slow down and reflect; a narrative started to form in my mind and I felt compelled to get it down on paper (so to speak).

After I published the first story I started getting positive feedback, and it was wonderful! But also frightening. I thought, “Well, that was it. That was the best one I’m going to be able to write. Now if I write another one people are going to expect that same level from me and I don’t know that I can weave a narrative like that together, again.”

But then the most amazing thing happened. I tried again. I started with a scene in my head of an experience that I wanted to portray, and it all came flowing out even more seamlessly, creating a narrative that was even better than the first one.

Writing helped me organize my spider-web of thoughts and make external sense of all the connections my brain was forming during a thought process.

And I didn’t always notice all the connections my brain was making until I put it down on paper.

It’s a trait I actually used to feel shame about. A trait that I felt judged by linear thinkers for.

I remember being told in my younger years, “you are so random,” and making a conscious effort to try to stay linearly focused (and, of course, failing to do so). Or, during professional meetings, being encouraged to stick to a single topic when, in my mind, the combination of multiple topics clearly provided better context for a solution. Similarly, I learned to hold back when telling verbal stories because of a singular person’s feedback that I provided more detail than they preferred.

But when unleashed, it’s a trait that has come in handy when trying to find solutions to unconventional problems.

In my professional life, I started out presenting ideas with low confidence, saying things like, “this might be a dumb idea but what if…”

Then over time, as ideas churned in collaborative sessions, and my thoughts helped build on others, I started changing my approach. I felt more comfortable presenting my ideas with, “let’s go back to the basics. I remember back in “x” project we started this way, could we do something similar here?” or “hear me out! I read an article that seems unrelated to this, but they did “x.” What if we adapt that approach here?…”

As I continued to write, my mind cleared and I was proud of the outcome. Then I remembered times when my spider-web thought processes had helped me during software testing, or when troubleshooting technical issues.

I also began recognizing the divergent paths I go down in every day life, and the ease with which I can call an audible and come up with alternatives when initial plans don’t work out. Never the type to be content with just doing what’s always been done, I’ve been known to find inventive substitutes for less-than-ideal situations, such as hopping a curb to get out of a congested venue, finding my own detours to avoid traffic, or adapting to the circumstances of an unexpected layoff by changing the narrative and choosing to use that time for writing and having experiences with family.

Through the organic path of my writings, I actually began to see something uniquely remarkable in myself. I came to realize my ability to form multiple connections while processing experiences and situations.

My superpower was my divergent thinking.

Harnessing The Beauty of Divergent Thought

Divergent thinking is a unique way of thinking that encourages generating a variety of unconventional ideas or solutions. It involves breaking away from traditional patterns and exploring new possibilities to approach challenges.

It is a “spider-web” thought process in which ideas spread and connect in a non-linear and expansive manner. Ideas can trigger more ideas, forming a complex network of creative possibilities.

Similar to the example of chores at the beginning of this post, my brain works in a spider-web of thought in my every daily interaction.

Days after the text from my friend, I had a conversation with my daughter, and I noticed that I took multiple diversions before I got back to the original topic and made my point.

I had an epiphany and reached back out to my friend.

“You know what? You actually did know my brain worked in this way,” I told her. “You’re the one who told me my mind works in this way.”

For years she’d laughed as she’d tried to get me back on track and affectionately declared, “I think you have ADD.”

But she’d always viewed my digressions as a benefit rather than a hindrance or an annoyance, using them to our advantage in work projects, then later in recreational settings.

In that exchange she revelated* that I could understand my thought processes in real time, which is why I was always able to jump to action, but once my mind focused I was able to better describe those thoughts and feelings to others.

*Revelated is a word I playfully coined when I couldn’t find the right word to accurately and powerfully express the idea of having a profound realization or understanding. It’s a creative way to convey the concept of a significant insight or revelation. Sometimes it’s the only right word.

I had the ability to effectively act on my immediate thoughts, but couldn’t always articulate them in the moment.

I’d sometimes felt frustrated with myself, thinking that I wasn’t quick-witted enough, annoyed that I had to take time to process situations and emotions before making sense of all of the connections.

I created a toxic habit of internally chastising myself when my verbal “freeze” response took over while my brain was taking everything in and processing it through a complex highway of thought.

But what it ultimately creates can be beautiful.

While I’ve come to view it as a special gift, it’s not without its challenges. I can get lost in a thought and completely tune out the world around me. I’ve often had to re-start conversations or ask speakers around me to please repeat themselves, giving the false impression that I’m aloof or disinterested.

I’ve had to learn to discern between when a thought needs to be explored in the moment and when it needs to be recorded and shelved for later. On occasion I’ve even had to ask speakers to please pause a moment while I jot down a note to prevent our conversation from being interrupted by my intrusive thoughts.

Also, I’ve learned I have to be still and give myself the time to fully connect all the pathways, but I’ve spent the majority of my life being too busy, falsely thinking that was a sign of productivity and success.

I reflect on a time when I was working in office where I would collaborate in meetings all day, immediately acting on ideas and feedback, rallying people to action through exuding excitement and confidence, but struggling to fully articulate to the masses in real time. It was one or the other, action or articulation – which required processing. I was in a fortunate position to have the trust of my superiors and the autonomy to work as I needed to, but in retrospect, I was also taking everything in without fully processing it.

Then I’d sit alone in my office after hours, reviewing reported issues or going through all my open browser tabs, making sense of it all. In that silence is where I’d have epiphanies and be able to articulate what I had been doing throughout the day. Sometimes on the drive home, or even in the middle of the night, ideas or solutions would hit me and I’d send an email so I wouldn’t lose the thought.

While I’ve come to realize now that I was unintentionally contributing to a toxic work culture (I’ve since learned to schedule emails for the next day), my brain was just in a constant state of “on,” which, overtime, can be overstimulating and counterproductive.

I’ve found that the real magic is in harnessing that thinking throughout the day.

I learned not to schedule back-to-back meetings. I learned to close my door for 5 to 10 minutes after interactions to download and decompress. I learned to write thoughts down in the Notes app on my phone and review them at strategic points during the day when I have time to really consider them. This gets the thought out of my mind, but not to be ultimately forgotten then rear it’s head at 2:00 a.m.

In harnessing the power of intentional thinking, I’ve been able to reduce my mind clutter while maintaining productivity, and more importantly, fostering creativity in a positive and healthy way.

I’m proud of the way my mind works, and even more proud that I have learned how to continually refine my gift of divergent thinking into a superpower.

::Disclaimer: this story is based solely on my personal perspectives and experiences and does not reflect the complexity and diversity of all forms of divergent thinking::