I took my dog for a walk on a fine fall day yesterday, and while we
shared the journey, we were soon lost in our own worlds. My attention was
grabbed by the endless variety of leaves—even in my own neighborhood—all differently
exhibiting the effects of a turn to colder weather. Meanwhile my dog was more
interested in the smells that lay at the base of the trees, so much so that she
often resisted when I tried to urge her onward when she wasn’t finished.
Each tree had a different response to the change of season.
Some were already quite bald, while others were still relatively green. Some
trees seemed to lose their leaves as if they had contracted a disease, the
leaves developing black splotches. Others turned brown at the edges, as if
slowly being overcome with rot. Still others turned riotous colors, determined
to go down in a blaze of glory. Some trees were dressed in red, others orange,
still others a most definite pink, fragile yet angelic like memories of my
grandmother.
And then, while indulging my dog in a particularly intense
sniffing session, I chanced to gaze upon a single leaf. It contained a black
spot, surrounded by brown, edged by orange, then going into red and finally
green.
The thought struck me suddenly that there was more
complexity within that single leaf than ever I could hope to understand with my
intellect. It had a personal history that made it the size it was, had a more
recent history which caused it to be the colors it now was. It had a variety of
veins bringing nourishment from branches, even as it transformed the sun’s
light into energy for the tree. Millions of cells composed of billions of
atoms, each placed in their proper position to do their job, each encoded with
genetic information distinct to the tree it belongs to.
If my mind was incapable of truly understanding this single
leaf, how then was it expected to make sense of the billions of leaves I saw on
my walk, not to mention everything else I encountered? How was I expected to
know not only a small thing in itself but its relationship to the myriad other
pieces of the universe that are constantly interacting and affecting each
other?
Then I glanced at my dog, who was still exploring the world
around her in her own fashion. She was absorbing information through her nose
the way I was with my eyes, in a way I could never hope to understand. She
perceived the universe through her dog senses in a way completely different
than me, and yet it was enough to permit her to function within it. Her search
for information was as important to her as mine was to me, if perhaps a trifle
less reflective. Each scent told her something useful, provided her clues that
might alert her to potential food or danger. But she, like me, was living in
her own little bubble, no more aware of it than most of us are.
I couldn’t help thinking that if there was any lesson to be
learned that it was how much we do not know. If we ever hope to be even
slightly wise, the most important thing to remember is how lacking our
intellects are. Intellectual humility must be our defining guide in life. To be
proud of being smarter than another is like a child who brags about having captured
more of the ocean’s water than a child with a smaller pal.
Meanwhile my dog continued to sniff, indifferent to my
thoughts. I realize that perhaps the nose can tell us more about our world than
our thoughts can. A person surrounded by pleasant smells is usually happier than
one who is not. I trust my nose far more than my intellect, trust my ability to
smell spoiled milk more than I trust the date listed on the container.
But beyond even my sense of smell, beyond the accumulated information
my collective senses provide, there is the internal sense of well-being that is
more important in explaining to us our relationship to the world. Define it how
you will, philosophically, psychologically, or spiritually, there is a way of
perceiving the world that leads us to life, health, and happiness that is far
superior to the intellect. It is more than time we quiet our intellects and
listen attentively to whatever information that sense is providing us.
