The Shared Space of Intellect and Nature

In high school, I had the pleasure of a being taught by a narrow minded-science teacher. He outwardly professed his disgust at any form of higher powers of creation, and many students were afraid to confront him by discussing their personal religious beliefs. In his classroom, he over-estimated the importance of intellect, and if you could not find a logical explanation for something, then he certainly didn’t want to hear about it.

During one particular assignment, I explored the work of Masaru Emoto – author of ‘The Hidden Messages in Water’ and attempted to grow a series of plants over three months, with water from different sources containing words of love, words of hate, as well as playing one source classical music, and the other source heavy death metal music. After three months and countless hours of effort, I presented my enlightening findings: the positive thought-based water sources grew significantly larger plants. What I received was a two-page rant in red pen, a fail grade, and the anxiety of needing to plead my case to the faculty of science staff, hoping to be granted some restitution. Suffice to say I was eventually given a pass credit, but the experience reminded me of the power of intolerance. In the wrong hands, intellect can discredit one’s unique but different point of view, along with any hope of making a positive change.

When faced with the unknown, such as a bad health diagnosis of a friend, it has been my experience that the most commonly asked question is ‘who or what do you believe in.’ This kind gesture indicates a genuine concern for one’s level of faith when faced with a difficult journey ahead, determining one’s emotional resilience by their instinctual response rather than their intellectual perspective. However, without a specific faith (as many people increasingly identify as agnostic in the Western world,) the ‘power of google search’ to provide answers often produces frightening results that strips away ones’ need for comfort and understanding during a vulnerable human moment.

The question has become apparent: where can we go to learn if intellect is unable to provide the answers we desire? To return to nature exclusively at this point in time, seems romantic but trivial. I cannot imagine many people would give up the conveniences of modern technology for life in a small hut, toiling away at harsh labour to support basic existence. When we default our personal power to favour an intellectual argument, we fail to balance the guidance of our instinctive nature. Intellect may, for example, create a new food craze through conclusive research to back up its’ findings, but if your body rejects the latest nutritional fad, without food, you risk death. Intellect without nature will not keep us alive, so why has it become our most progressive resource for understanding the complexities of the modern world?

For me, I believe in the naturally occurring properties of energy in nature as a source of untapped intelligence. Weekend bushwalks in the rugged Australian bush provides more vitality for me in the solace of trees than in a crowded room full of people. To explain how nature enlivens me is not a rational argument, for it is simply a feeling of being supported by the earth beneath one’s feet. The concept of sitting underneath a favourite tree, or dipping one’s toes in a cool stream after a long walk, seem like such an ordinary and commonplace act. However, after being a gypsy for most of my life, often unable to visit the same place more than twice, one can always find a patch of grass as a space to recharge in. No explanation is needed to argue or rationalise your desire; you instinctively respond with the need for rest, and people willingly accept that.

When one learns to read the signs of the natural world, the direct experience creates options. If one was to examine a tree just for the hell of it, you may place your hands on its trunk, watch its leaves rustling in the wind, or climbing its lowest branches to experience its height. Such an unplanned act may leave you with a sensation you didn’t even know existed, interpreting the meaning of a tree as more significant than initially understood. Tapping into this expansiveness through the discovery of hidden detail may forge a more wholesome perspective from the appreciation of hidden features from every living thing available to us.

Rather than trying to explain the naturally occurring chaos in our lives, perhaps as we give less value to intellect, we will begin remembering the hidden messages in trees, water, plants and our very own cells. At this point in time I cannot conclusively detail any reasonable explanation to tear away from your telephone or computer screen except to remind you that there are many more interesting sights to see. Move your head from side to side – you were born with flexibility as the backbone for your physical structure. Evolution has determined that you should use it, yet modern consciousness continually suggests you don’t need it. Learn from the fusion of intellect and nature by stepping outside the mind’s limitations, and give change a chance.