Intelligence

Intelligence is tricky.

There are layers and layers of it. Sometimes neatly stacked, other times strewn around in a haphazard manner.

There are sets and subsets of it. Sometimes clear as day, other times murky as a rained down path through a forest.

There are dimensions and multi-dimensions of it. Sometimes easily see-through-able, other times fully opaque.

Questions, myriad in their nature, warrant a different lens for each of them. And every lens has its own answer.

Which answer is the right one?

Questions

Can a person behave independent of their life experiences?

Can a person be defined independent of their life experiences?


Note 6

Even though I admit to being unnecessarily complicated, I can't actually let those disheveled tendrils of chaos and derangement in my head neatly organize themselves into a productivity genius that feels exactly what it is supposed to feel at any given moment.

Such are the compulsions of authenticity. You can't change too much about yourself or you'll become a fake. Some things you are born with and must carry to the very bitter end.

Or.

Maybe it is that a complete transformation is unheard of. On account of being impossible to achieve that is. Not trying to put a dampener on enthusiasts but there is only so much upgradation a system can take before collapsing in on itself.

It's true. There are some parts of you that you must own. Exactly the way they are. It brings peace.

Peace is the true reward.

Peace is worth it.

Peace is the un-declared goal which when achieved terminates the project and tags it as finished single-handedly.

Peace, at least, is not unnecessarily complicated.

In fact, it's not complicated at all.

It just is.

And whether you know it or not, you are on a quest to find things that just are.

Note 5

How is it that there are a million things to do in my head and only one gets done in the amount of time that 'I' think can fit the entire million?

Why so disparate, dear brain? Please get better at math or something.

Unnecessarily Complicated

Things are.

The world is.

Thoughts are.

My mind is.

You are.

Your way is.

The weight of thought

What right do you have to talk about something you have never even done?

No, that's not a rhetorical question.

It's an actual question.

What right does one really have?

Thoughts have weight. Significant weight too. But ultimately, and probably understandably too, they are trumped by action, by the done deed. It's really not that much of a disappointment. If anything, it's nice to have that agency of action, to test out your thoughts in the lab.

Hmmm.

I think it's about weight.

Thoughts carry weight. Like unbearable weight sometimes even though they are just thoughts.

But action, a 'done deed' carries no weight at all.

Once done, it's actually done.

One gets to revel just in the knowledge of having done something, no matter the output.

Interesting, isn't it?

If the goal is to stave off weight, then doing is the way to go.

If the goal is to reach the stratosphere of thought and climb up further, then voluntarily being trapped in thinking circles involving at least some amount of self-torture endlessly would be the obvious way to go.

Question is, how much weight can you handle?

And when that moment of un-handle-able weight does really arrive, can you gently put it down instead of being buried under it?

Everything is perfect. Everything is broken.

Everything is exactly the way it is supposed to be.
Everything needs to be fixed.

This conundrum will never die. At any given moment, I have the choice to alternate between the two lenses to accommodate whatever it is that I want to accommodate.

There is an undeniable urge to pick one for good, though. I mean having options is nice and all but who wants to dilly dally their existence away. You have to pick a spot. Stay there. Make it your home. Maybe travel every once in a while. But come back to a point.

The point.

Maybe having something set in stone is too much to commit to for some people. Maybe I am one of them. Maybe I am not.

Maybe it doesn't matter.

Maybe nothing matters.
But on the off chance that everything does, pick a spot.

Experiment.

Okay, so.

The intermingling trains of thought creating a web that has become more a super-thought and less many different thoughts, ultimately subject to external stimuli, living and dying and then raising from the dead again, all in a moment's space.

And you.

Oh you.

You are a mere witness to this elaborate process. It's almost as if you have nothing to do with any of it. You just happened to be where the action was. Not that there is an escape or anything. But the separation exists and you know it.
What do you do with it? The separation.

The very obvious awareness of you being a witness and not a participant. Ceasing to be a participant the exact moment when you realized.