We live in a world that believes that understanding complexity is the highest form of intelligence. From birth, we’re taught that simple is bad or stupid, and complex is good and smart.
This is seriously reductionist.
Sure, from the vantage point of the human ego, this little body-mind that believes it’s all alone in the universe, simplicity is less skillful. We often call it “naivté.” It use discernment, ignores or underestimates consequences or the big picture, defies learning from mistakes, and it doesn’t understand its “unknown unknowns”—its blind spots, in other words.
20th-century Indian sage and writer Jiddu Krishamurti understood that complexity and interpretation aren’t the be-all and end-all, when he wrote, “The ability to observe without judgment is the highest form of human intelligence.”
“The ability to observe without judgment
is the highest form of human intelligence.”
He was pointing to a different type of simplicity, wise simplicity, that connects directly with what we call the Universe, Source, Life, etc. That wise simplicity represents the deepest wisdom any human can embody. It simply observes and acts as needed, not based on externally imposed deadlines.
This is a timeless simplicity where wisdom and guidance arise without effort. Next steps unfold without planning. Creativity emerges through the channel of our bodies. This is available to all of us.
Although I’m using the word ‘simplicity,’ it would be equally fair to call it ‘stillness.’ This is why so many teachers emphasize presence and not letting the mind wander from this very moment. Only when we’re completely still and thought-less can solutions to our personal challenges arise; we need to give wisdom the space to arise through meditation and other ways of putting the thinking mind on pause.
That can seem like heresy to those who worship at the altar of the intellect (as I was raised to do, and did for decades). Here’s the thing: Whereas naïve simplicity cannot access the intellect or critical thinking, wise simplicity can go hand-in-glove with discernment.
Wise simplicity isn’t about rejecting the intellect; it’s about recognizing that the intellect is, as Eckhart Tolle, says, an instrument to be put down when we’re not using it. Most of us just try to use our intellect to bludgeon the problems we face, and then we’re surprised when it doesn’t work.
To reference Tolle again, naïve simplicity is ‘falling below thought’ (inability to access the intellect), whereas wise simplicity is ‘rising above thought’ (deliberately pausing thought to access deeper wisdom).
Jim Carrey began his film career mostly by starring in what we’d call ‘lowbrow’ movies: "Ace Ventura, Pet Detective,” “The Mask,” and of course, “Dumb and Dumber.” Like many intellectual snobs, back in the 90s, I rolled my eyes at the mass appeal of these movies.
Those movies represent the human ego before awakening, when the individual is spiritually unconscious. They represent what I call “naive simplicity.”
Then something happened. Awakening broke through the shell of Jim Carrey’s ego.
First came “The Truman Show,” in which Carrey played a man unwittingly performing in a reality series for an invisible audience. This introduced to audiences, even in fantasy, the possibility that there is a deeper reality than the one we perceive. What if we’re all, as Shakespeare said, players on a stage?
Then Carrey was cast as legendary (and controversial) comedian Andy Kaufman in “Man on the Moon.” Here, I’ll let Carrey tell the story:
“Playing Andy Kaufman…I realized that I could lose myself in a character. I could live in a character. It was a choice. And when I finished with that, I took a month to remember who I was. “What do I believe? What are my politics? What do I like and dislike?” It took me a while and I was depressed going back into my concerns and my politics. But there was a shift that had already happened. And the shift was, “Wait a second. If I can put Jim Carrey aside for four months, who is Jim Carrey? Who the hell is that?”
— Jim Carrey, “The Talks”
That experience led him to a nondual breakthrough, that his identity (and all of ours) is only a construct. He had allowed his ego-self to disappear (wise simplicity) and allowed what wanted to emerge (a Method portrayal, or even channeling, of Kaufman).
Any interview with Carrey post-2000 reflects that ‘wise simplicity’ rather than the ‘naive simplicity’ of his early characters. His responses can sound like word salad to the uninitiated, but he is clearly embracing the practice of playing with form while he can.
In 21st-century Western culture, complexity is currency. Capitalism thrives by making everything feel urgent and overwhelming. That chaos keeps us dependent on external systems, so-called “experts,” and products to solve the problems capitalism has created. Simplicity and wisdom don’t create nearly as much profit as panic and confusion.
The impact of this is that our attention is constantly fractured. Our nervous systems are hijacked 24/7, and our inner guidance is drowned out by infinite competing demands on our time. In that environment, wisdom becomes nearly inaccessible. It’s not that wisdom has gone far away; it’s that wisdom is soft and quiet, and it can’t reach beyond the noise.
We often claim to value simplicity…just not where it matters most. We praise minimalist decor, clean user interfaces, Scandinavian design and Marie Kondo. “Clean and simple” is a compliment in photography or typography.
So why do we so rarely apply that same aesthetic to our own lives or decision-making? When it comes to how we function in the world, we’re conditioned to believe that only complicated things are worthwhile (especially if they come with a high price tag or require advanced degrees).
Naïve simplicity takes everything at face value without critical thinking. Wise simplicity understands that the intellect is helpful but insufficient for skillful navigation—and that there’s a very fine line between thinking critically and being relentlessly critical. And complexity, though it may be smart when it comes to the relative matters of living on this planet, isn’t wise at all in the absolute.
The times I’ve experienced it, wise simplicity is deeply peaceful. Most of us keep ourselves busy (and our minds engaged) with our phones and tablets, overworking, rushing around, hustling—and all of that prevents the emergence of wise simplicity.
Then we have a drink, or a smoke, or an edible, and feel so relaxed—but in doing so, we’re falling into the peace of naïve simplicity, because chemicals slow down the pace at which we think or analyze. We understand it’s peaceful to take breaks from overthinking, but we need narcotic help to do that. It’s enjoyable (I’m the last one to judge), but it’s not wisdom.
The most common practice to bring us into wise simplicity is meditation. Not mindfulness meditation—which is also an excellent tool for self-awareness and developing compassion—but a Zen kind of meditation where the focus is so precisely on the razor’s edge of just this moment that thoughts simply don’t arise.
When I allow myself to be mentally still, paradoxically, things get done far more wisely. That’s not to say more efficiently from a capitalist perspective, but being still and embracing wise simplicity allows me to be moved forward by life—and that inevitably has a more desirable outcome than when I try to impose my will upon life.
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