Listening to your intuition to decide

Intuition isn't a revelation: it's a recognition. Your experience has recorded a thousand similar situations, and it hands you their synthesis as a sensation — before reasoning has formulated anything. That's why it's often right on ground you know well, and far less reliable in unknown territory.

So it's neither an oracle to follow with eyes closed, nor noise to crush under comparison tables. It's a datum — precious, fallible — that deserves the same examination as the others.

Three inner voices sound alike and don't carry the same value. Fear speaks loud, urgent, on a loop — always to avoid. Desire speaks sweet, in promises — always to obtain. Intuition speaks once, calmly, and doesn't argue: it states, then falls silent.

A simple writing test: note what “the voice” says, then reread the next day. Fear will have swollen, desire will have embellished — intuition will say exactly the same thing, in the same tone. What doesn't move from one day to the next deserves listening.

Intuition speaks before words; writing brings it into language, and that's an excellent filter. Write: what exactly do I “sense” — and what, in my experience, can this feeling stand on? An intuition that finds its footing grows stronger; an impression that finds none deflates on its own.

A Yi Jing figure serves as an opening here: Inner Truth (61) makes you write about what you already know without having told yourself; the Gentle (57) about what seeps in quietly and asks to be followed; Contemplation (20) about what you see when you stop arguing. The figure validates nothing — it gives your sensation a place to be written.

The false debate pits intuition against reason; good decisions take them in order. First intuition, noted as it is, unjudged — it's a hypothesis. Then reason, which verifies: what confirms it, what contradicts it, what would a clear-eyed friend say?

And at the end, an honest observation: if after verification the sensation persists, it weighs in the decision — as one datum among others, not as a verdict. Following your intuition isn't an act of faith; it's having given it the chance to prove itself.