The Lonely Hollow Mind

They say that if you want to write, you need to read.

To grow your knowledge, develop your intellect.

A flowing intellect mind is capable of various approaches of the world. Essentially to understand and issue them correctly. To comprehend the different perspectives of human mentally, yet not to celebrate them but to separate them.

To perceive everything we see, everything we hear, everything we touch or experience and categorize it into categories following our own opinions and beliefs. To organize human thoughts and perceptions and compare them to something else.

The Intellect that now runs our world and the systems we have created are ordered and administrated into religion, nationality, culture, tradition, gender, species and much more others.

To make a separation, a disconnection, a place where everything belongs except for what does not.

If the ideal intellect everyone is eager to achieved is the overflow of knowledge and all exterior information to be gathered, I wonder, what is the emptiness of mind?

And as collation, what is the fullness of it?

If we break every external data we receive into a thousand pieces, inspect it, fold it, classify it.. aren't we breaking the whole connection we could have with it? Breaking it so that we leave ourselves empty.

In altercation to the intellectuality we are all able to gain from our five senses and surroundings, haven't you wonder what you can see while within your own psyche? Entire societies and worlds moving, all inside of you.

I want to explore what would a mind would write and wonder about without getting exterior opinions, knowledge, strict limited subjects and mostly rules about what to think and to what extend.

To explore, to see, to wander, caress and connect but not modify or divide what we are, what we are made of.

What is it that hides in the most empty yet universally infinite human mind when it becomes its only space, its only company, its only income of wander.

The Empty mind filled with the purest gasoline, equipped to reach the closest cerebral branch into a continued connection and we are the base core.

Whatever it is that drives us to think, to re-think, to process, to wonder, to question, to answer. And whatever powers us to find and create that answer because we cannot seem to stop our fascination for the yet unknown. To enjoy a certain type of sound, a certain smell, a certain view even if it does not apply to what you think you should relish.

Those admirations come from outwards and they stay outward bound.

We have created machines to solve our troubles because we keep creating more of them. But there is something that machines could never do and that is to live in their minds when the power is out.

What kind of intelligence is it that brings you to experience creativity in a way you cannot when outside, a perspective you have earn without knowing the options or opinions of it.

Perhaps the intelligence we always take for granted, the one that uses only evolutional memory, our body. The same intelligence that guides plants and trees into their shapes, forms, without knowing reading the instructions.

Intellect is a human knowing how to eat a fruit, experience the taste and temperature, compare it to other fruits.

But what is that amazement that develops by getting fed by something else?

In our modern society, intellect is nothing more than an instrument to be used efficiently. Enhancing nothing other than what we have gathered from the outside. Solving the problems we fabricate every day.

For our education system for example, that would mean great capacity at problem solving, extensive memory, systematic organization and skills set; Memory bank.

I keep wondering, is there such problematics in the most simplest of minds or, what in today's society is perceived as the ignorant mind.

When we generalize human intelligence, aren't we all capable of intelligence as far of as skills, perception, comprehension and much others? When we recognize someone's intelligence is always depending on what our own perspective and opinion of intelligence are.

But what if you give a paper and a pen to someone who never reads and perhaps never has? Having enough knowledge to write and compose sentences, what would they fill the paper with?

Possibly they will write about not what they know or what they can give an opinion on but about what they feel, what they see moving or standing, what they imagine in their own words and rhythm. No grammar, no punctuation focus. Just a Phrase, a Shout, a Mind, a Universe and an infinite one.

Another possibility is that they might not even follow the lines of the paper and they would stain the paper with that develops within.

No external influence, exterior seeds, superficial rains, just local Land and produce.

Some many types of intelligences, of reasonings not to be understood but admire.

The Ignorance of the Mind is the most feared state now days. To be called stupid and be secluded in that adjective. Not to completely disregard a subject or happening but most time just not know about it. Even if for the most part, from my intelligence stand view, putting humans in the category of non-intelligent, AKA stupid, is really stupid.

Everyone with a mind has stories to tell, everyone has their own language, their own roots and they do not stop expanding even if you don't read 'The 100 Books Everyone Should Read'.

So many worlds inside of each of us and yes, so much to learn and understand about the world, about what happened in the Past and what is developing right now in the present. Nevertheless, have you learn in what galaxy your mind goes wondering to and what it looks like?

Every human in this planet has their own type of intelligence, whether that is socially, artistic, mathematical or just the type of intelligence that gets them through the day in a creative sense. Every human is a planet. And with just the kind of intelligence that we cannot be depicted and labelled.

Perhaps the most fearful lack of intellectuality is the best option for mind rest and discovery. Maybe even a must when we cannot get in touch with what really lives and flies inside of us every minute.