Intelligence

Summer in Ireland

What is intelligence? Could it be that illusive something innate in all things? The seed entering the earth and sprouting into a beautiful flower, shrub, tree according to its nature is surely an act of intelligence. Looking attentively, it can be seen that beauty has its own intelligence, that love and compassion has the beauty of its own intelligence. But whenever I'm looking as a Buddhist, Christian, Muslim, nationalist, capitalist, socialist, philosopher, whatever, this natural beauty of intelligence is gone. It becomes twisted, distorted by the wretched condition of the mind. Can we see this? Actually see it? Can we see that knowledge is not intelligence? One can be very erudite, smart, clever, cunning in the ways of the world, in the ways of the projecting consciousness of humanity in its current condition, and yet be devoid of intelligence. When we look at all the wars, pain strife, the wretchedness of the businessman, the violation of humanity, all the wrong actions hidden by suitable regulations, our condition, which is not intelligence, becomes apparent as being the unavoidable norm. Why should it be so? Inquiring into all of this, clearly and sanely, is surely an awakening in the human brain cells to intelligence. Quite obviously, it is only when intelligence is in operation that right action ensues.

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