Intuition

By Cleo Buchanan

I was recently listening to a lecture about intuition. The lecturer described how accuracy could be developed. He suggested admitting failure was a vital component. He said he felt many intuitives had elaborate explanations for their inaccuracies, excuses for their intuitive hits being wrong.

I also teach intuitive development classes.

I’ve had students many times show up and have a natural source of information in their experience that I don’t have any experience with. Their entire practice is based on something I don’t understand and may have dismissed in myself as my imagination when it cropped up for me.

I assure them that their intuition is real, that their gifts are a very real path for them to follow and develop. And I try to open my tiny perspective again. I find it is so different for everyone.

My formative experience when I was a child, five years old, was seeing spirits, walking in my bedroom at night. My parents told me very angrily that this couldn’t be real. That I was wrong, making it up, it was just my imagination. 

So I lived in terror of those who had come to console and nurture me; the spirits I still see and now am able to accept.

In my younger years, I lived in a continual barrage of wild feelings that I couldn’t explain and often found baffling and inexplicable. When I was thirty I met my first energy worker. She taught me how to create energetic boundaries for myself. She explained that I had none, had been born without any. 

With this one change, I went from chaotic and confused to suddenly feeling separated from the endless noise for the first time. I felt safe. I felt silence. At the end of two weeks, I felt so much a stranger to myself, so suffocated, unable to sense anyone around, that I tore the boundaries down. I spent the next twenty years building them and removing them, adjusting, searching for the balance.

The lecturer, speaking of intuitive development, spoke extensively about intuition as being the sense of something right, the sense of something wrong, the urge to do something different than planned. The sense we have when we meet someone.

This is exactly what I gave up on, pulling information from my impression of a person’s energy . The entire practice the lecturer described, I gave up on years ago as meaningless noise for myself. For me to open the doors to such energies is overwhelming.

Yet once again I am asked to recognize someone else’s experience. Whether I understand it or not, I am asked to suspend my disbelief or confusion, and recognize their power. I salute their bravery to cultivate their gifts, whatever they are.

 Any hesitation might be natural, as I remember the old scars, of my parents angry disbelief in my childhood. It’s good to remember those scars, so I can avoid inflicting them on others with my crass disbelief, to prop up my own importance. It’s good to see how diverse we are as a community of intuitive, so similar and still so strange to each other. 

When I allow others intuitive arts are as substantial as my own, though I am mystified by their description, I am free to find those gifts as well.

Belonging

If I walk into a new boardroom, with strangers staring, words written on the whiteboard that are strange, I am searching the faces for a sign. I am scanning for some sign I’m safe here. Do they like me, am I welcome, am I in the right place?

I can be repelled by the offer of a coffee, because it’s not my habit. I am soothed and feel recognized when offered my favorite hot tea. I’m embraced  by each of their smiles. I’m wired to their shifting in discomfort. I sense the room’s atmosphere.  Maybe The whole group is soft and easy like I’ve been here before somehow. I can recognize the energy as familiar and if I have a gear I’m ready to be in, snap, nothing to it. I KNOW, I belong here.

What if I walk into that same board room, and I embody myself? I keep all my energy in myself, solid, whole. I don’t search for a sign of safety. I am safe in myself. I don’t look for comfort or seek a friendly face or a sign. I smile so much and am so comfortable in myself, the people around me who are comfortable smile in recognition. The nervous people are soothed. Anyone too nervous walks away, they can’t dampen my weather.

 I can observe, I like this room, I like the big windows, how enjoyable. Feels prickly? My how alert everyone is! 

I carry faith in myself. I hold solidly all my truth, broken and whole, in embracing acceptance. And then, when I walk in that new place, I accept them. I have faith in them. Belonging arises naturally. I already belong everywhere I go, I belong to myself. Now, in this new place, full of what they can’t offer or withhold, I am willing to allow them to belong to me.

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