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A reflection on thinking rhythms, Creative Intelligence, and how we make sense of the world
Have you ever felt misjudged for being too quiet or scattered? Or maybe you often feel rushed in meetings, or steamrolled in conversations. There’s rampant frustration with team dynamics, where ideas don’t land or collaboration feels like compromise. But what if the issue is hiding in plain sight, but we just don’t have the language to describe what we all feel and witness? What if how you process ideas, solve problems, and relate to others is distinct within the way you process information? As an executive career transition coach and someone who works across the realms of creative thinking and action, I think a lot about the way people think. Not just what they think, but how those thoughts take shape in the first place. You wouldn’t be alone to assume that how people think is fixed: that you’re either good at brainstorming or better at planning, fast or slow, verbal or quiet. We confuse someone’s pace or style with their capability. But I don’t think personality traits alone explain what we’re seeing. I think it’s actually a processing rhythm. There’s Nuance When we misunderstand there’s a rhythm to our thinking, it affects everything from how we show up in meetings to how we generate our most creative ideas. These aren’t just quirks or communication styles. They’re distinct rhythms of thought, and they influence everything from decision-making to creative flow, and from team dynamics to strategic insight. This curiosity runs through my work as a coach and facilitator, and is foundational to my Creative Intelligence (CQ) framework, the interplay among imagination, emotions, and actions that fuels how we navigate, create, and communicate. In my book Second Draft, I explore a range of thinking styles, from analytical to relational, visionary to practical, and of course creative and innovative. One pattern I’ve come to better recognize, both in clients and in myself, is the difference in how people process their thoughts and ideas. Not just the content of the thinking, but the route, method, and timing. I observe how some formulate thoughts in silence and share only once they’re fully formed. Others discover what they believe as they speak. Still others toggle between both. Over time, I began investigating these patterns more intentionally, which led to this useful breakdown of internal, external, and hybrid processing, as language to help understand what’s going on within ourselves, and see it in others. Understanding how someone processes information helps us design better conversations, build stronger teams, and make space for insight - not just answers - to emerge. This is not so much an academic exercise, it’s based on my experience and core to how I coach, how I teach CQ, and how I help people access their most creative, clear, and confident selves. Shared Language This understanding may also offer language and clarity for those who identify as neurodivergent. For some, it helps articulate a style that’s long been misread or dismissed. For others, it opens up space to say, “There’s nothing wrong with how I think. It’s just different.” And for neurotypical collaborators, it’s a reminder that difference in processing is far more common, and more valuable, than we’re often led to believe. At the same time, I recognize the risk of oversimplification. No one fits neatly into a single style all the time. Context, stress, culture, trauma, or the presence of psychological safety all influence how you show up. A person may process internally in high-stakes meetings and externally when brainstorming with a trusted partner. Hybrid doesn’t mean indecisive, and fluidity doesn’t mean inconsistency. Like much of human behavior, it’s dynamic. So rather than sorting people into boxes, this model invites us to become more curious and intentional: What’s your rhythm? What’s theirs? Understanding your processing style helps you create the right conditions to think clearly. And when you share that style with others, you help them keep pace, make space, or even enjoy the ride alongside you. I’ve come to recognize that my own style is a hybrid of internal and external processing. I write or speak to generate clarity, then retreat to reflect and refine. I toggle between conversation and solitude. It’s not a weakness. It’s my rhythm. Naming these styles, and the space in between, has helped me:
What follows is a more detailed exploration of the different processing styles I’ve come to recognize, with additional nuance around strengths, gaps, and how it relates to CQ. The Three Processing Styles Internal Processing Internal processors think before they speak, and often before they’re even sure they want to speak at all. They need to integrate their emotions and amorphous ideas through introspection. You might notice them pause when asked a question, eyes drifting up or away as they retreat inward. Their faces may mirror their thoughts. They’re present, but their energy is focused inward. When they do speak, may be slow, deliberate, and structured, like they’ve mentally rehearsed it. Their tone could be steady, sometimes so steady it’s misread as disinterest. Interruptions can derail their process, and pushing them forward before they’re ready could interrupt an insight in mid-formation. For them, silence is not intended to be awkward or dismissive. It’s their workspace. With time and trust, they emerge with thoughtful insights that show their attention and care. Internal processors may thrive in coaching scenarios where the coach acts as a creative thought partner who lets the silence sit as its own prompt and part of the discovery. Take for example an employee in a new leadership role who’s been told they need to “speak up more” in meetings, but they actually process deeply and share only when fully clear. Her ideas, when voiced, shift the room. But she’s been misunderstood as disengaged. Similarly, take a junior team member on a fast-moving product team who’s overwhelmed by how decisions get made “in the moment.” He has deep insights, but they arrive late. The team thinks he’s checked out, but he's just slow to verbalize. We’ve all had that experience of coming up with the perfect comeback hours later. How can you spot an Internal Processor? Typical traits:
External processors think through talking, writing, drawing, or interacting with others. Thoughts happen out loud in this way. Ideas emerge as they express. They may start mid-thought, eyes scanning or jumping between people, hands in motion as if pulling the idea into form. Their tone may be animated, their pacing fast. Some ramble, diverge, or non-sequitur their way toward clarity. Meanwhile, other external processors sound polished even while forming ideas in real time. That confidence doesn’t always mean certainty. It’s just their rhythm. A common pattern is to revise aloud: “Wait. Scratch that. Maybe it’s more like …” They may thrive in conversation, and interruptions can spark more ideas. Heck, they may indulge in interruption themselves. But without reflection, they may miss nuance or quash quieter voices in the room. But give them a listener, and they’ll find clarity; cut them off too soon, and they may never get there. External processors often thrive in coaching relationships due to having a dedicated listening partner who lets them find their thoughts. One example is an expert preparing for a keynote or interview who says, “I just need to talk it out” to discover their thesis mid-rant. They’re brilliant but self-conscious that they’re “too much,” “not clear enough,” or “all over the place.” And I can’t tell you how many times a client has apologized for rambling, only to land on a major insight after five minutes of winding speech. They’ll say, “I guess I just needed to say it to hear it out loud.” A challenge for coaches is knowing when to strategically interrupt External Processors to capture insights in motion without disrupting the flow. How can you spot an External Processor? Typical traits:
Thinking styles that can be associated:
Hybrid processors live in the space between, bouncing from thinking, creating, and deciding. They toggle and switch, often without realizing it. One moment, they’re talking something out, the next, they’re silent, eyes focused elsewhere, distilling. Their body language also shifts in tandem too: expressive, then still. Their tone can start uncertain and grow confident, or flip. You might hear: “Let me talk this through…” followed by “Wait, I need a second to settle this.” They layer. They adapt. They’re bridges in dialogue and systems. But when forced to stick to just one mode, they can feel scattered or misread, even paralyzed. Their gift? They can help others toggle, too. How can you spot a Hybrid Processor? A hybrid processor client who finally stopped beating themselves up for “changing their mind” and realized they were integrating. Once they built in reflection after group ideation, their CQ blossomed. How?
Creative Intelligence grows when you enhance your EQ to understand your own processing mode. It grows more when you learn to toggle between styles, or support others in doing so. Other ways to grow your CQ depending on your processing style:
These distinctions are interesting, yes, and they’re practical. Misreading someone’s processing style can lead to rushed decisions and team tension. Misjudgment of confidence or disengagement can dismiss your most creative allies, or downplay your own strengths. Collaboration breaks down, and frustration and resentment from these differences can fester. So what if by better understanding your thinking style, and that of those around you, better equips you and your team to navigate each other with stronger connection? For example, in workplaces, teams, families, when we understand how someone thinks, we create space for trust, timing, and better communication. That can reduce conflict, improve inclusion, and increase creativity. As a coach, leader, and collaborator, you can apply these insights immediately, and adapt from context to context. When you understand these rhythms, when you learn to recognize the quiet architect, the verbal explorer, and the rhythmic shifter, you design better conversations. You pause differently. You listen more fully. You judge less. That’s what happened recently with a client - a Chief officer whose CEO has an opposing processing style. He tended to make decisions mid-meeting because he can see the whole system in his head. But it turns out, the CEO benefits from a write-up 24 hours prior to think about the agenda. Early on, this caused real tension and misjudgment. Once they named it and adjusted the rhythm, they were able to accomplish those elusive KPIs. Reflection Questions Now ask yourself:
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See more wet images from this year's US Open on Triblive.com What the U.S. Open Taught Me About Mindset, Emotion, and Letting Go of the Playbook
I wasn’t planning to watch the U.S. Open. It was on in the background while my husband offered live commentary from across the room. But as I listened, and then watched, what unfolded was something far richer than a golf tournament. It was a slow-motion study in emotional unraveling, resilience, and creative decision-making under pressure. The weather outside Pittsburgh had wrecked what was already a challenging course. Rain left the fairways soggy and the rough borderline unplayable. The course was, quite literally, one giant puddle. And with it, the usual rules - the strategic logic that these pros train for - washed away. What’s left when you lose the illusion of control and have to toss out your skill and swing mechanics that were ingrained muscle memory? The players who rose were the ones who could regulate their emotions, get creative, and let go of the script. The Ones Who Fell Apart Being a professional athlete means being fit mentally and physically. But one by one, I watched players unravel. Tyrrell Hatton was the most vivid for me. Trapped in wet grass beside a bunker, he tried a high-risk chip shot only to land just past the wet sand, right back into more tall, soggy grass. He quietly exploded: slashed at the grass with his club, yanked his towel from his caddy’s hands. The course had beaten him, yes, but so had his own nervous system. Sam Burns, too, came undone. He was already spiraling when he found himself standing in a literal puddle and asked for relief. Denied, more than once. You could see it. The frustration was boiling over. And that moment didn’t just hurt his score. It confirmed an internal narrative that had already taken hold: this isn’t fair, and I can’t recover. And maybe the conditions weren’t fair. But fairness doesn’t win professional tournaments. Presence does. Adaptability does. So does what I call Creative Intelligence. The ability to stay emotionally centered, shift perspectives, and make grounded decisions even when the landscape changes. The Ones Who Recalibrated Not everyone unraveled. Robert MacIntyre seemed on a different path. He had played early (starting the day placed not particularly well in scoring), but finished the round strong. Then he sat in the clubhouse watching the field struggle. One by one, his name crept up the leaderboard. Earlier in the week though, he was one of the unraveling ones. In a live interview during the broadcast, he shared that he had been angry and frustrated. He knew he couldn’t play like that. Not here. So he spoke with his coaches, and with someone who “helps him with his psychology,” as he put it. He said he got his head straight. That mindset reset paid off. And when the ultimate winner (more on that in a sec) sank his final putt, MacIntyre clapped from the clubhouse with visible respect. His expression seemed to say: What can you do? The guy earned it. The One Who Let Go of the Old Story The ultimate winner was J.J. Spaun, who stood calm in the storm. He wasn’t supposed to win. This was only his second time advancing in the US Open. And a year ago, he was ready to quit golf entirely. He said he was burned out. Defeated. But then, mid-flight on a plane, he happened to watch the movie Wimbledon (no, seriously … the rom-com with Kirsten Dunst and Paul Bettany about a fading tennis pro rediscovering his spark). Somehow, that movie planted the seed for one more run. Earlier in the tournament, Spaun admitted that in the past, a good round would trigger a fear spiral; like, “if I played well today, I’ll probably tank tomorrow.” But not this time. This time, he stayed calm. Even when his ball hit the flagstick earlier in the day and rolled all the way back off the green. Even when the course turned to a lake. Even when nothing was working the way it should. And on the final hole with the entire course watching, Spaun smacked a wet 64-foot putt to clinch the win. It was the longest putt made all tournament, by anyone. He looked like he might black out! He looked stunned, almost out of body and in complete disbelief. While checking his scorecard, he shook his head like, “How did that happen?” Why This Mattered to Me I talk a lot in my work about Creative Intelligence (CQ); the ability to integrate imagination, emotional agility, and thoughtful action in the face of challenge. What I saw on that drenched US Open course was CQ made visible:
I’m not particularly interested in golf, but I’m very interested in high performers and how they react to the unexpected, to constant change, and to having their plans blown up. I’m interested in what people do when their playbook stops working, when conditions change, and when the pressure mounts. And I’m interested in seeing how they cope when it just doesn’t seem fair. It’s easy to stay composed when things are going your way. But when the course turns to puddles and your ball reverses itself off the green, your emotional posture becomes the game. What an illustration of Creative Intelligence in action. |
AuthorVeronica Scarpellino is a Professional Certified Coach (PCC) through the ICF and Board Certified Coach (BCC), stands at the forefront of creativity and career evolution. With over 20 years of immersive experience and formal coaching, she specializes in guiding professionals through transitions, emphasizing the transformative potential of creative thinking. Archives
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