Intuition, that instinctive part of me that lies somewhere within the mystical part of my mind. It rises like a censor from the depths of thoughts seeking harmony, urging me to listen, react, respond with great care, because my senses are right on track.
Yet intuition is not quite the same thing as instinct. Intuition is only the echo of what might have been, or even might be.
Instinct is a defense mechanism. Instinct relies on the tried and true. For me that is flight. It is so much easier to pack up my little turtle shell and escape. That is one of the reasons I give so much away. I do not dare to burden myself with the unnecessary. Anything can become a veil, or even a wall, between me and those things I love and desire.
Desire itself clouds my vision, making the object unattainable simply because I want it too badly. I am constantly letting go, but there is a difference between choice and fear. One is a good thing, the other so destructive.
What do I fear most? Probably looking foolish, putting myself out there, revealing all my weaknesses and discovering I am in the river with alligators.
But I’ve been there before.
And I survived.
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