Rocks are neither brighter nor more stupid than us, it’s just that they have different interests. A rock’s interest lies with the center of the earth. A rock will never learn our language, move on its own, or be curious about something else when its interest lies entirely, devotionally, uni-dimensionally on one state, and one state only: to reach the center of the earth. Every atom of a rock’s being has this one purpose. We may say that Gravity is what makes this rock seek center, but what is Gravity? Our scientists today still don’t know, or at the least won’t go so far as to say that Gravity is the intention of reaching the center of a body. And in an intelligent universe, every intention is an interest.
In order to dissuade a rock of its interest – to “kill it” so to speak – we can and have resorted to force: it’s the way we do things. Most everything we do, we do by force. It’s the way we nourish ourselves and provide for our material well-being. It’s a large component of how we rear our young, and even hasn’t entirely dissapeared from how we copulate. To cure a rock of its interest we can resort to smashing it into pieces so small that it necessarily must take on a new interest – that of becoming a rock - in order to pursue it’s former interest of reaching the center of the earth. Or we can try more peaceful means. What would it take to persuade a rock of a new interest without the use of force? What interest would we have in mind if we were to try?
Greater self-knowledge is most certainly in my interest, and to that end I would wish a rock to share its point of view, and to shed light on my own position in the world. That a rock could speak to me would be highly beneficial in increasing my self-awareness. Or perhaps I have in mind that this rock would show me the power of its interest, proving to me that intention is more powerful than brute force, and I would double dare this rock to prove it by moving in a direction contrary to its interest (although one would assume that older rocks would never fall for this kind of trickery). Perhaps still I have an inkling that the rock’s interest – as powerful as it is – is still not the end all of its soul’s interest, and I would wish to see this underlayer manifest itself. Might a rock be a dragon in disguise? A waterfall? A breath of cold air?
Maybe a rock is only showing its outer interest; it may only be doing its job while its true passion lies hidden. But the rocks with which I have consulted profess their undying attention to the soul and center of our Earth. “There is no room for more,” they tell me.