"If you could picture your intuition as a person, what would he or she look like? If you sat down together for dinner, what is the first thing he or she would tell you?"
My intuition never comes over for dinner. She’s more of a breakfast person. Titania is loud, creative, and prone to outrageous leaps of logic. She commands a larger space than I think most intuitions do. Or maybe other intuitions are just as demanding, but their people are less responsive. In any case, Titania seems to be getting taller all the time – she grows a quarter-inch every time I follow her advice. She’s almost six-and-a-half feet now.
I never used to listen to Titania. When I didn’t listen to her, she shrank. By the time I married my first husband, she was only two feet tall. I kept catching a fleeting image of her jumping up and down, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying at all. She told me, years later, that she was yelling “Don’t do it!” at the top of her lungs. Her lungs were so small, though, that I couldn’t hear her.
I couldn’t hear her for a very long time. Finally, one day when I was alone, she got my attention and I took her advice. Her guidance was so perfect that the next time I had a dilemma, I sought her out. I have her to thank for my life as it is now – and it’s a very good life.
Titania doesn’t have to wait for a dinner invitation to tell me what she thinks. She pops by regularly and pulls up a chair. She can be opinionated, but she’s always honest. And she’s rarely wrong.