trust your instincts

Many times in my life I have learned the lesson (often retrospectively) to trust my instincts. From small things like guessing the plot of a book, or knowing who is about to break up on a TV show; to larger things like a queasy feeling when a new opportunity doesn’t seem like a good fit, or sensing that a supposed trusted adult sitting beside me was actually a deeply evil pedophile; my gut knows. People can tell me all sorts of things, but I have learned that words often don’t tell the whole story (they can be scripted by our brains to sell an idea or keep things safe), and people’s energy and their actions are a better judge. There is a marked difference between what someone may say and the day-to-day reality of their actual actions which shows you what they truly think and value. And, it is that intuitive gut feeling; that force, or invisible energy that you carry in your body; that ultimately contains the truth. It tells you who you vibe with, and who you don’t. It tells you when someone is holding back their real feelings and it points to someone’s true character; which either reinforces their words, or is in direct contrast to them. 

puzzle pieces

My gut tells me when energy is flying around a room; I can see it as clearly as if there were time-lapsed coloured beams of light between people. That energy is especially evident in those with generous open natures, and is particularly transparent when people have lowered their inhibitions. Maybe I am more tuned into this than others, but I have learned to trust it, even when the current facts seem to line up against me. Sometimes you need to wait quite a while (months, years!) for the other shoe to drop which locks that stray puzzle piece into place. But over and over again that shoe eventually drops and the click inside my brain goes: “yes, I knew it.”

a niggle in the gut

When my gut sends strong signals about inherent danger I really try to listen – this type of instinctive messaging is innate within us yet often we override it by thinking that conventions of civilized society protect us. Wrong. If the hairs on your neck are standing up, get the hell out of there pronto.

Harder to obey are those niggling thoughts about opportunities being presented to you that may or may not be the right direction for you. I have a distinct memory of sitting through a lunchtime job interview for a role that on the surface looked like it was a perfect fit. I was unemployed at that time and this was in the industry I wanted to work in, and had experience in… so, perfect, right? But the entire time I was eating I was having a powerful visceral reaction, I felt disassociated, nauseous—like I was floating outside my body watching myself sitting there at the table. I couldn’t explain it. Something just felt wrong. So even though the role was offered to me, I declined. At the time this didn’t seem like the wisest choice (unemployed!), and I recall struggling to answer questions about WHY I didn’t take it, but I am proud of that younger version of me that was starting to understand about trusting herself.

blind trust

However, I have also learned that my gut doesn’t always know (can’t know!) the whole story. It is a warning signal, not an omniscient transcript. It can’t know the unique motivations or intent or actions of other people, it just senses “ripples in the calm.” Perhaps like a metal detector squelch, it can say “something is here”, but can’t articulate whether the something is positive or negative, malignant or benign. Is this buried Viking treasure or the ubiquitous pull tab from a discarded beercan? Who’s to say? So being patient is equally important. It can take a long time to understand, build context and language around what is to be understood, so it is better to take a deep breath, bite your tongue and rally enough internal grace to keep moving forward through the unknown.

lightning in the belly

My gut has the final word in my life. Both spiritually and physically. I have often said that my belly is the center of my being. Despite wanting to be known for my mind, or my heart, it’s my gut that truly defines me. When I am calm and stable, it is calm and stable. When I am deeply excited it feels like lightning bolts ricocheting around. If anxious, it is heavy and rolling like I’ve eaten too much garlic; and when sad it cramps with despair that I just can’t seem to shake. It feels emotion (whether reactive or self-imposed), just as plainly as a physical blow, and it can take time to heal, just as clearly as a bruise might on your arm.

The external wrapper of my belly also feels incredibly vulnerable to me; it doesn’t like to be cold, it doesn’t like to be exposed (no crop tops for me). It is squishy and soft, regardless of my fitness level, and hates being constrained by tight-waisted pants. It likes to be comforted with warm hands, but mostly just wants to be safely tucked away. It likes things to be “just so.” 

layers of knowing

I guess all this to say that our bodies know things that our minds haven’t caught up to yet. From the external to the internal to the basement of our subconscious being (and extending to the divine) we are layers of knowing. Maybe this is our ultimate self-preservation feature, the layers share information, or protect us as needed. This collective intuition quietly points you toward the truth, or sometimes noisily shouts at you to jump out of the way from danger when your brain is still processing things. Whether you call it your gut or your instincts there is an energy there that we are all tapped into. Ignore it at your own peril. Or maybe it’s the Matrix and we are all just holograms that occasionally shimmer and glitch – showing us that everything in our programming is preordained and our lives a mere illusion of choice.

At the end of the day, I trust in me. I trust what I can feel, equally as what I can see. And while I may not understand all the moving parts in my life, I trust that somewhere down the road, I’ll be wise enough to hear the puzzle pieces land.