I am going to be quite upfront with you.
I have been really excited to write this scroll.
I had been looking forward to it for over a month. The ideas were there. The curiosity was there. I knew there was a lot that wanted to express itself through me, and on more than one occasion, I sat down fully intending to dive deep.
And each time, something felt…off.
Not bad.
Not heavy.
I wasn’t experiencing writer’s block. I wasn’t suddenly uninspired. My excitement hadn’t disappeared.
There was a subtle feeling.
A slight nudge.
Something quietly asking for my attention.
I have learned to pay attention when that feeling arrives.
So instead of pushing past it and writing anyway, I turned toward it.
I tunned in.
I listened.
And the message became clearer.
Not yet.
There were other scrolls that wanted to be expressed first.
So I followed the nudge.
Another scroll came.
Then another.
Eventually, I returned to this one.
Again, I was excited.
Again, I sat down to write.
And again…
Not yet.
I had to appreciate the humor, sheer wit, and cosmic wink that I was experiencing.
Perhaps you have experienced something similar.
DID YOU DUCK?
Not necessarily while writing a scroll.
That feeling…
Maybe you were thinking about someone you hadn’t spoken to in months when suddenly your phone rang.
It was them.
Maybe you were walking along, talking, laughing, completely occupied with something else when something inside you registered:
⚠️Warning⚠️
You moved.
A ball flew past your head.
“Did you see that? It almost hit me!”
Yes.
But you ducked.
And if you didn’t?
Well…
Sometimes the notification arrives and we don’t open it.
Knock knock.
Lesson received.
💥🤕
We have many names for these moments.
A hunch.
A gut feeling.
Instinct.
A sixth sense.
Something told me.
I had a feeling.
I don’t know how.
I just knew.
And perhaps that last one deserves a little more attention.
Not just the knowing.
The how.
Think of a moment in your own life when you knew something before you could explain why you knew it.
Don’t analyze it just yet.
Return to the experience.
Where did you notice it?
Was it a thought?
A feeling?
An emotion?
Did something happen somewhere in your body?
Did your stomach tighten?
Did your chest expand?
Did the hair on your arms or the back of your neck rise?
Did an image suddenly appear in your mind?
Did you hear something?
Was it a physical or energetic sensation?
Or, was there no sensation you can identify at all?
One moment you didn’t know.
And the next…
you did.
Before we decide what any of this means, perhaps we can simply become curious about something most of us have experienced in one form or another.
Because that little moment you may have shrugged off as coincidence, chance, luck, or something you couldn’t explain…
may be a wonderful place to begin.
Not because I need to convince you of anything.
I don’t.
That is not my place, position, or intention.
That journey belongs to you,
and it is an inward one.
I’m only inviting you to notice what may have been quietly knocking all along.
Whether you open the door?
Well…
that’s where things start getting interesting.
Or, inner resting as I like to sometimes say.
◦
So, what did you do with it?
That feeling.
That nudge.
That moment when something within you seemed to know before you understood how you knew.
Did you listen?
Did you follow it?
Did you question it?
Did you brush it aside and continue with your day?
Did you duck?
Or did the ball hit you upside the head?
Either way, there is something there worth noticing.
Because sometimes we recognize these moments immediately.
Other times, hindsight introduces us to what we already knew.
HINDSIGHT 20/20
“I knew I should have called them.”
“I had a feeling I should’ve gone.”
“I knew I should have taken the other route.”
“I should’ve brought the umbrella,
I knew it was going to rain.”
“I knew we should have bought toilet paper last week.”
Sometimes it is even simpler.
“I knew it.”
How many times have you said that?
How many times have you known what was going to be said in a movie?
How many times have we said, I should’ve trusted my gut?
Perhaps someone was telling you something, and before the words left their mouth, you already knew what they were going to say.
Perhaps you met someone and something felt off.
You couldn’t explain it.
There wasn’t necessarily anything you could point toward.
Nothing had happened.
So you dismissed the feeling.
You told yourself you were overthinking.
Maybe you decided to give them the benefit of the doubt.
Then, sometime later, something happened that caused you to look backward and say…
“I knew there was something off.”
There are those red flags everyone loves
so much.
They are remarkably easy to see once we have driven several miles past them.
Hindsight is 20/20, after all.
But what if we stopped treating hindsight as merely the moment when everything finally makes sense?
What if we became curious about what hindsight is showing us?
Because hindsight did not necessarily create the original feeling.
It may simply have given us enough information to recognize what we were already feeling.
So instead of saying, “I knew I should have…” and immediately going back about our business, what if we paused?
You knew?
Interesting.
How?
Go back.
Not to judge the decision you made.
Not to decide whether you were right or wrong.
Not to punish yourself for ignoring something you believe you should have known better than to ignore.
There is no test here.
There is experience.
And experience gives us something wonderful to explore.
What did that original moment feel like?
Where did you experience it?
Did something inside you become quiet?
Did something become louder?
Did your attention suddenly move somewhere for seemingly no reason?
And perhaps most importantly…
have you felt that before?
Personally, I have been in a relationship in which my intuition was screaming
Nooo…🚩
Not this way…🚩
Go back….🚩
Wrong turn…🚩
CAUTION ⛔️ CAUTION ⛔️ CAUTION 🚩
And in the end, I looked back at all those red flags and thought “humph.”
This is where hindsight can become something more than hindsight.
It can become a teacher.
Because the more we look backward and recognize the moments when something within us was already communicating, the more familiar we can become with how that communication feels.
Maybe your intuitive nudges tend to arrive in a particular place in your body.
Maybe different kinds of information feel different.
Maybe there is no consistent physical sensation at all.
Maybe you hear something.
Maybe you see something.
Maybe you simply…
know.
There is no need to make your experience look like someone else’s.
For now, we are simply noticing.
And noticing.
And noticing some more.
Because something interesting can begin to happen when we become familiar with what we previously recognized only in hindsight.
We may begin recognizing it while it is happening.
Hindsight may be 20/20.
But what happens when we start developing a little…
front sight?
A little presence with the sensations.
What happens when the feeling arrives and, instead of paying it attention later, you recognize it now?
“I know this feeling.”
Then you get to choose what you do with it.
Maybe you follow it.
Maybe you don’t.
Maybe you question it.
Maybe it makes absolutely no sense and you follow it anyway.
Whatever you choose, pay attention to what happens next.
Not so you can keep score.
Not so you can divide your experiences into right and wrong.
Experience them.
Observe them.
Allow them to teach you something about the language that is uniquely yours.
Because having intuition and trusting your intuition are not the same thing.
And recognizing that you have been receiving these little intuitive nudges all along?
That may be where our awareness of the relationship begins.
◦
A relationship.
Because that is what we are beginning to explore.
Not how to get intuition.
You already have intuition.
Not how to become intuitive.
You already are.
Perhaps the more interesting question is:
What kind of relationship do you have with it?
Think about any relationship in your life.
A relationship does not deepen simply because it exists.
We learn one another.
We pay attention.
We communicate.
We listen.
We respond.
We begin recognizing the subtle things that may be invisible to someone who doesn’t share that relationship.
A look.
A shift in tone.
A particular silence.
A movement.
Something seemingly insignificant
that says much more when you know the language.
Intuition can become familiar in much the same way.
At first, perhaps it is only something you recognize in hindsight.
“I knew I should have…”
Then you begin paying attention.
You notice the feeling while it is happening.
“I know this feeling.”
And maybe this time, instead of dismissing it, you respond.
You follow it.
Or you don’t.
Either way, you observe.
Then it happens again.
You notice again.
You make another choice.
You observe again.
Little by little, experience begins teaching you the language of your own intuition.
Not someone else’s.
Yours.
This is where trust begins to matter.
Because having intuition is not the same as trusting it.
And trusting your intuition when it agrees with everything you already think, know, believe, or want?
Well…
that’s the easy part.
What happens when it makes absolutely no sense?
When something within you says:
Go this way.
Call this person.
Wait.
Leave.
Not yet.
Now.
And your thinking mind responds:
Why?
Sometimes there is an answer.
Sometimes there isn’t.
Sometimes all you have is the nudge.
And a choice.
This is where things can get a little uncomfortable.
Good.
There is not a lot of growth in the comfort zone.
We can begin somewhere cozy, but eventually, if we are genuinely curious about what exists beyond the boundaries of what we already know, something unfamiliar is going to ask us to take another step.
Trust does not require certainty.
Sometimes trust is what allows us to move when certainty is unavailable.
THE TOY STILL HAS A PURPOSE
Imagine being handed a toy.
You look at it.
Set it down.
Someone hands it to you again.
You put it in a drawer.
It appears again.
This time you place it in the closet.
Eventually, it would be reasonable to conclude:
Perhaps you don’t want to play with the toy.
And so,
the toy no longer shows up.
Not as punishment.
Not because you did something wrong.
You have simply demonstrated what you are presently interested in experiencing.
Intuition can work similarly.
If every nudge is immediately dismissed, explained away, overridden, or ignored, the signal may not have disappeared.
You may simply become very practiced at not noticing it.
We become good at what we practice.
Practice makes normal.
Even ignoring ourselves.
But what happens when we pick up the toy?
What happens when instead of immediately saying, “That makes no sense,” we become curious?
It can still not make a bit of sense,
but we can be more open.
What happens when we say:
Okay. Let’s see.
Now we are participating.
Now we are practicing
CULTIVATION
We are cultivating an environment through which trust can grow.
Experienced trust.
We notice.
We respond.
We observe.
We learn.
And over time, something that once seemed random may begin to feel familiar.
Something we once recognized only afterward may become recognizable in the moment.
Something we once called a coincidence may invite a second look.
The signal may not have suddenly appeared.
Perhaps we have simply become more available to receive it.
Cultivation, then, is not necessarily about adding something that was missing.
It can be an act of remembering.
Of tending to soil that was already there.
Of becoming more aware of what has always been communicating beneath the noise.
In some ways, it is less about becoming something new and more about becoming more of who you are…
while unbecoming more of who you are not.
And perhaps this is why knowing yourself matters so deeply here.
The more familiar you become with your own fears, desires, patterns, conditioning, reactions, thoughts, and inner voices, the more capable you may become of noticing when something feels…
different.
◦
Remember the beginning of this scroll?
I was excited to write it.
I wanted to write it.
There was much that wanted to be expressed.
And yet, beneath all that excitement was a subtle feeling.
A nudge.
I knew that feeling well enough to notice it.
So I turned toward it.
I tuned in.
I listened.
The initial feeling was not the entire message.
It was the knock on the door.
Pay attention.
And because I had spent years cultivating a relationship with my intuition, my inner guidance, my Inner Being, and what I call Source, I knew how to open it.
Not yet.
That relationship did not appear overnight.
It grew through experience.
Through listening.
Through questioning.
Through getting it “wrong.”
Through getting it “right.”
Through ignoring guidance and later thinking…
Humph.
And through trusting something that made absolutely no sense…
only to find myself standing somewhere I could never have planned my way into.
The nudge became familiar.
The language became clearer.
The relationship deepened.
And eventually, what once might have been experienced as a quiet feeling could become something much more difficult to miss.
