Selected Cronicas

A KNOWING SENSIBILITY

Sometimes people wishing to pay me a compliment tell me I am intelligent. And they are surprised when I tell them that being intelligent is not my strong point and that I am no more intelligent than other people. They then accuse me of being modest.

Of course I know about certain things. I was a bright student and intelligence has helped me to cope with certain situations. And like many others, I am capable of reading and understanding books which are generally considered to be difficult.

But often this so-called intelligence of mine is so limited that one would think I was stupid. People who refer to my intelligence are, in fact, confusing intelligence with what I would call a knowing sensibility. Now that is something I really do possess.

And notwithstanding my admiration for sheer intelligence, I find a knowing sensibility much more important when it comes to living with others and trying to understand them. Nearly everyone I know could be described as intelligent. They also happen to be sensitive. They can feel things and be deeply moved. I daresay this is the kind of sensibility I exercise when I write, or in my relationships with friends. I also exercise it when I come into superficial contact with certain people whose aura I can sense immediately.

I daresay this kind of sensibility, which is capable of stirring emotions and making one think even without using the mind, is a gift. And a gift which can be diminished with neglect or perfected if exercised to the full. I have a friend, for example, who is not simply intelligent but also extremely sensitive, an essential quality in her particular profession. As a result, she possesses what I would call a knowing heart, so knowing that it can guide her and others as reliably as radar itself.