INTELLIGENCE IN NATURE

Ironically, although we are intelligent, and can perceive remarkable intelligence in nature, there is a strong scientific resistance to an open-minded investigation of 'intelligent design' (ID) in nature. Why? Is it because of our failure to exercise human intelligence effectively? Is the fear that creationists may use theistic ID arguments to undermine evolutionary theory really a cause for concern or a mere political red herring (Network 88)? Is the alternative a denial of intelligence in nature, a falling back on the outmoded, Descartes-inspired, mechanistic view of animals as automatons best studied as soul-less chemical or biomechanical systems. Again ironically, wanting "no truck with the ID movement" Narby nevertheless sets out to explore "the intelligence that seems manifest in the workings of living organisms." Following a path similar to that taken in his previous Amazonian exploration (The Cosmic Serpent) Narby sets out in search of shamanistic wisdom with the rather wistful hope that "scientists and shamans could join forces." [Here I would venture that this can only happen as a result of a significant shift in consciousness structure –probably on both 'sides.' Plants and animals speak to shamans on the unconscious level – through what Barry Long calls the 'psychic web of the biosphere' uncluttered by the rational explanatory semantics of the mental consciousness structure]. So, as Narby found out, when asking a gifted herbalist healer for a rational explanation of nature's intelligence, he was informed that "I have no words for it." As noted by Heraclitus "Nature loves to hide." I found the book rather disappointing for several reasons. First, it is rather dull, with too many familiar and overworked examples. The journalistic format of interviewing experts, and reporting what others think, rarely leads to a coherent vision, and too often distracts with trivial incidentals about the interviewee's personality. Second, Narby overlooks some of the most fascinating work in the field such as The Secret Life of Plants (by Peter Tomkins and Christopher Bird) and Supernature and Lifetide (by Lyall Watson). Reading just a few pages of these authors is, in my opinion, far more stimulating- and for good reason. Nature is intricately intelligent on many levels (unconscious and conscious). So when we get a glimpse of the mysterious subtle energies structuring the psychic web of the biosphere, to which we belong, we intuitively become aware of the extraordinary subtlety of organic sentience in which we are so deeply embedded, and so feel a sense of participation almost akin to homecoming. These moments of conscious penetration through nature to supernature are epiphanies of consciousness that briefly illuminate the otherwise vast realms of the unconscious. Certainly Narby's quest to penetrate what nature loves to hide is understandable and necessary for his project, but his approach is somehow too constrained and over intellectualized. The book is almost 50% endnote-reliant on academic verification. Somehow it lacks the sense of participation and communion with nature's group soul that comes across so well in Watson's writing (The Gift of Unknown Things, for example). Narby's wistful and frustrated quest for shamanic insight is surely symptomatic of the failure of abstract, rational science to provide satisfying answers. I may be doing Narby a disservice, but I sensed that his global travels in search of academic verification of nature's intelligence missed the point - demanding the unconscious yield to the strictures of rational explanation. His examples, including congregating slime molds (treated elsewhere by Brian Goodwin), are too familiar to stimulate without receiving an original treatment. The suggestion that they (amoebas) operate on the "unconscious level" seems obvious but not illuminating. Likewise, substituting the Japanese word Chi-Sei as a better descriptor of natural intelligence seems no more than a semantic alternative. Narby's final conclusions, that "nature's essence" is "to evolve," and that "Humanity can learn from nature" are too obvious to add anything to the discussion. So despite some multi-cultural input, Narby's rather timid endeavor to take on an intractable problem does little to shed the light of understanding on nature's deep unconscious intelligence. Owen Barfield spoke of how our unconscious "original participation" gave way to our present separation (from nature) and its attendant mixed blessings: conscious thought, abstraction, sense of alienation, desire for explanations, etc.. But he also spoke of a final participation, which gurus like Barry Long equate with a reintegration of the conscious mind with the unconscious psychic realm. In today's world, without living close to nature or possessing rare gifts to intuit 'unknown things,' the search for a conscious understanding of nature's unconscious intelligence is tough. Watson and a few others give us tantalizing glimpses not by abstracting and intellectualizing, but by letting down their intellectual guard and surrendering to the participatory mode. This means appreciating and communing with nature rather than analyzing her intricacy. I venture that we only become consciously aware of the subtle energies that nature 'hides' from us by reintegrating with her and allowing our own consciousness to shift (as the shamanic journey requires). By the time such integration occurs, we likely become more enchanted than frustrated by the mystery, and the need to rationalize and explain that of which we are an essential part no longer seems quite so important.