Repetition, repetition, repetition

I repeat myself a lot. I repeat myself, A LOT. Repeating myself, something of which I do a lot, is the myself that repeats. The sheer repetition of the many repeats I have made over the years, merely repeat the things I've said before.

Now, is repetition the dearth of ideas, or the birthplace of genius?

I'm not saying this because I think I'm a genius (though of course, I am) but because most of the breakthroughs of the world have come about from repetition. Even Einstein's equation was the culmination of years of repetition of other thinkers, including his own obsessions.

For what is repetition, if not obsession? Thinking about the solution to a problem; OBSESSING over it, REPEATING the problem over in the mind; finally finding the solution - surely this is the hallmark of genius? To finally find-that-answer: 'it's genius!'

But no, it's not genius, you think, it's just me obsessing to the point of madness. The point where my brain is so overloaded with the problem, that the solution becomes obvious. The point where I've repeated the problem to myself so often, the solution lies in the repetition. And you might think it's genius, and I might claim it, but I know it really isn't.

And this is the basis of true genius, the knowing that it really isn't.