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. 

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.  I spent the next twenty years building them and removing them, adjusting, searching for the balance between insulated and receiving. 

The lecturer, speaking of intuitive development, spoke extensively about intuition as sense we have when we meet someone, how we sense their energy. This is exactly what I gave up on, personally. 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.