SHAUMBRA HEARTBEAT
HOW DOES LIFE DO THAT?
By Jean Tinder
I’ve always been curious about how life works and what might exist beyond what we can see, touch, and measure. I drove my parents crazy with a million questions and devoured countless books for as long as I can remember.
Lately, Adamus has been talking about intelligence and pointing out some of its very interesting attributes. We’re familiar with typical human mental intelligence, and now we’re beginning to understand artificial intelligence, which is rapidly eclipsing our human brain capacities. But he’s also referring to a much broader non-mental intelligence, an organizing dynamic that is inherent in all forms of energy. This has come up in the last couple of Shouds and workshops, it was delightfully “unpacked” in a recent session of Consciousness Decoded, and there will be a lot more on the topic in The Merlin Fields just around the corner.
Intelligence has always been rather dear to me. After being homeschooled for 10 years, at the ripe old age of 16 I astonished everyone by getting the highest score they’d ever seen on the high school equivalency test. A few weeks later, I aced the entrance exam for the Mensa society. Of course, none of that impresses Adamus. In Kasama he says, “Good lord, hopefully, none of you are too smart, because smart doesn’t really get you where you’re trying to go. You can’t get there from being smart.”
So yeah, the bragging rights have kind of lost their luster.
Nonetheless, I still want to understand intelligence as we’re now exploring it. I love pondering metaphysical concepts, but sooner or later I want to know what something means in real life. What is this non-mental intelligence that doesn’t include being smart? What good is it when I’m remodeling another piece of my house, running errands, making important decisions, or just getting through an ordinary day? How do I experience it, perceive it, allow it, and let it serve me in my human life?
When I sat with those questions, I realized something rather obvious: this “new” non-mental intelligence has always been here. And I’ve experienced it countless times without knowing what to call it.
You could say it shows up as intuition, but I think that’s only one version. It’s also what I’ve affectionately called my celestial concierge, the “whatever it is” that organizes energy to serve me through mind-blowing synchronicities, unexpected encounters, perfectly timed solutions, and mostly just the sublime flow and ease of life. So, maybe the question isn’t how to get non-mental intelligence, but how to notice where it’s already functioning.
I think curiosity has a lot to do with it.
But I don’t mean the incessant curiosity of a two-year-old. My mind already provides a running commentary on life and its distractions, ad nauseum. I’m talking about real curiosity – the openness to whatever might not be readily apparent, and the willingness to release filters and expectations long enough to perceive what is actually unfolding. Instead of asking “Why” — Why did this happen? Why won’t that work? Why are they doing that? Why me? — in my experience, curiosity asks “What.” What’s really happening here? What am I feeling? What is waiting to be received? What else might be going on that I haven’t noticed?
The difference is meaningful. “Why” usually triggers the mind to explain reality according to what it already knows. “What,” on the other hand, creates an opening for something new.
One of my final house projects has been the laundry room, a long, narrow space that has annoyed me for, oh, about 17 years. I’ve tried different configurations and all sorts of ideas, but nothing ever felt right. So the pink linoleum, ancient cabinets, walls full of holes, and general disarray remained while the rest of my home slowly transformed.
A few weeks ago, it was finally time. We stood in the room for nearly an hour, brainstorming solutions. Should we move the plumbing? Knock down a wall? Get some dynamite? Then suddenly a completely new idea appeared: Divide it into two rooms!
I knew instantly. That’s it!
The “how” still had to emerge, but ultimately that was just logistics, the exact thing my “very good brain” is for. The answer itself emerged from curiosity after all the known — and very logical — solutions had apparently run out.
Was that non-mental intelligence serving me? I think so. It wasn’t a voice from beyond, a mysterious vision, or even a noticeable nudge. Just an answer emerging when there was finally enough openness for something new to be perceived. I had stopped snatching answers from my brain long enough to get curious. And presto, there was the answer! The space is now far better and much more useful than I ever imagined it could be.
A few days ago, I got an even more entertaining demonstration.
I headed into town for several errands, including a trip to the hardware store. Arriving, I grabbed a cart and noticed an odd little metal bracket lying in the corner. I handed it to the man at the service counter — “I hope this wasn’t important to somebody!” — and went off to do my shopping.
After wandering around for 20-some minutes, I reached the self-checkout and discovered a transaction already underway on the abandoned register. I started moving to another one, but the attendant stopped me. “No, no, just let me take those off. It’s easy.”
I wasn’t in a hurry, so I waited.
Transaction complete, I headed toward the door, pausing to throw something in the trash. Just then, two frazzled-looking women came in with their dog, and I heard the attendant ask if she could help them.
“We’re looking for something we lost,” one said. “It’s really important!”
Without even thinking, I spoke up. “Was it a little metal thing about this big?”
“Yes!” they cried.
“I found it in my cart and gave it to the guy at the service desk.”
They headed off in amazement, and I walked outside grinning from ear to ear. I mean, think of all the tiny details that just happened to line up! I grabbed that cart, noticed the bracket, turned it in, spent exactly as long as I did browsing, encountered the checkout delay, paused at the trash can, and noticed the women during the few seconds they were explaining what they had lost.
Could it all have been coincidence? Of course. But coincidence is much more interesting when you get curious about it.
What just happened here?
Nobody was managing the situation, yet somehow all the moving pieces converged at exactly the right moment.
In the past, I might have imagined some helpful spirit guide arranging all those details behind the scenes. “Let’s make sure she grabs that cart, nudge her to hand in the part, then let’s slow her down at the checkout so she’ll still be here when those women come back!” But I don’t see it that way anymore. There wasn’t some invisible angel managing the pieces for me. It was all our own energy, naturally organizing and responding in ways none of our minds could have orchestrated. Perhaps the more we take ownership of our own energy instead of assigning its intelligence to something outside ourselves, the easier it becomes to notice just how naturally everything organizes.
“More of this!” I said to my Self as I walked out to the car. “I love being part of someone else’s synchronicity as much as my own!”
In retrospect, I think that little experience illustrates something important about non-mental intelligence. We often talk about following nudges, but I’m starting to feel that “going with the flow” is a better way of describing it. Nudges can be so subtle that the mind immediately gets involved. Was that really a nudge? Am I imagining it? Is this intuition or fear?
Going with the flow is simpler. It means receiving — i.e. being present with — whatever is happening and responding to it. Not passively or as a victim of circumstances, but more like This is what’s here, now what do I choose?
The gentle tug of flow invites curiosity. It’s like floating down a river wondering what’s around the next bend instead of hacking through the jungle because I’ve decided I’m supposed to go west.
Or, to use a more relatable metaphor, it’s like my map app.
When I’m driving somewhere unfamiliar, I tell the app where I want to go. I make my choice. Then I drive. If it sends me north when my destination is west, I don’t shout, “No, no, this is all wrong. West is that way!” I simply trust that the app has information I don’t. It knows about road closures, traffic jams, construction, and routes I’ve never traveled. My perspective from behind the steering wheel is extremely limited, so I trust the app.
What if non-mental intelligence works something like that? My soul, my field, my energy — whatever terminology we use — has a perspective my human mind simply cannot access. It knows the terrain beyond the next bend. My human job is still important — driving the car, paying attention, making choices, dealing with whatever appears on the road — but I don’t have to design the entire route.
The delay at the checkout isn’t an obstacle. The solution that hasn’t yet appeared doesn’t mean I need to think harder. Even an apparent wrong turn might be part of a route whose intelligence I simply cannot see from where I am.
It doesn’t mean I have to declare every inconvenience divinely ordained or invent a metaphysical explanation for everything that happens (although that’s a fun hobby for my busy brain). For life to be magical instead of mundane, I can simply stay curious.
What else is happening here?
That question changes things. Instead of focusing on the problem, I become available to what is emerging. Instead of trying to manage every outcome, I can meet the moment that actually arrived. Instead of demanding that life follow the route I plotted, I can notice the invitation that’s already here.
Maybe the practical mechanics of non-mental intelligence aren’t about learning how to think in some new way or getting better at receiving mystical instructions. Maybe it’s simply about loosening our grip on what we think is supposed to happen, receiving what actually does, and being curious enough to notice the intelligence that has been there all along.
I don’t know what’s around the next bend. But I’m definitely learning how much fun it can be to find out.
