Intelligence is a wonderful thing. We can ply our minds with mounds of knowledge, filling every crevice with new information. All of which is good. And yet I firmly believe it means nothing if we do not also utilize the knowing that comes from within.
The knowing housed within me must be mixed with my knowledge. To operate at my best, the two must be combined. There are times of course, when every logical marker is in place and yet my inner knowing says not to proceed. And when overruling my knowing, I’ve almost always regretted having done so. My knowing is without limit, whereas my knowledge is confined.
I have met people and instantly knew I needed to keep my distance. The body sends off numerous signals like a ship moving through deep waters. The eyes may see that all is clear, but the underwater radar says otherwise. My knowing, is that radar. It sees what rests in the places my logical mind can not. I can study the hell out of a subject, and yet my radar will tell me if what I’ve read is simply pontificating theories that are of no value to me, or something that will help with my expansion.
Of course, others often try to dismiss as folly the importance of using one’s radar instead of one’s knowledge based mind. Because of that, I often refrain from sharing what motivates me. Sometimes the most important things I have done in shaping my life, have been done without the aid of my mind. Instead something told me to turn a certain way and I did. Upon doing so, my mind caught up to what my radar already knew.
Our mind holds information, bits and pieces of knowledge and a plethora of memories. Inherent to all of these, as important as they may be, is that they are limited to what has been. Either what has been discovered or what has already taken place. Even hopeful theories are based solely upon one’s knowledge on the subject. But one’s inner being sees not just the past, it sees the future. It sees what has no shape, and is not tangible. It is within that ethereal place that our soul lives and breathes; our greater journey, moves in that place.
When I used to sculpt, I would often do so with eyes closed. The vision of what I wanted to produce rested within. I didn’t need my eyes when it came to reshaping the block of clay. I only needed my hands to carry out what my inner being knew it wanted to eventually allow my eyes to see. Once things had taken quite a bit of shape, then my eyes were used for fine tuning. And in many ways that is my approach to life – when I allow it.