A Still, Not-so-small Voice

Looking back to the 1970s, I realize that many of my actions were in response to intuitive promptings, some of which were not recognized as such until later. Intuition cannot be thought-up; rather, it is a knowing, an impetus to doing, a pressure toward newness. Its linguistic root, according to the American Heritage Dictionary, means "contemplation." What a wonder it is! Here's some of what happened:

"Don't I know you?" I was returning home from the laundromat when a man walking in the opposite direction stopped and seemed to recognize me. In the fall of 1969, I rented an apartment in Oak Park, Illinois, where I had grown up, and began attending the small Friends Meeting there. It turned out we recognized each other from the Oak Park Meeting. I set down my heavy bag of laundry, and we talked for half an hour standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

A romance ensued, and I found myself courageously dropping everything to follow this man out to California in January, 1970. This was a huge leap for me, given that I had just recently recovered from depression and several years of hospitalization.

The romance didn't work out; its ending was a time of many tears, but a strong prompting told me I had to break it off, no matter how painful this would be, for the sake of my own growth. Nevertheless, the whirlwind romance brought me to California -- the right place at the right time -- to take the next steps on my spiritual path. That relationship, though it ended in disappointment, opened the door to so much. Thank God for the power of intution, even (or especially) when it's pointing to something you would rather not do!

Soon after my arrival in California, I joined the Palo Alto Friends Meeting. A member of that meeting, Carla Taylor (Blessings, Carla!) ran a "creative dance" group at the Meeting House once a week. I joined it, and my confidence and creativity began to thrust up out of the ground like new spring shoots. The procedure for the group was perhaps typical of California at that time: just dance what you feel.

Carla gave the group occasional exercises, such as dancing with our eyes closed. One time, we opened our eyes to discover that everyone in the group was holding hands. We had formed, all with closed eyes, an approximate circle, each one holding the next one's hand. Here was intuition again, a small but beautiful whisper to everyone there.

Carla played a lot of classical music recordings, which were my favorites to dance to. My "most favorite" was Rodrigo's guitar classic, "Concerto de Aranjuez," to which I did grand sweeps around the room with moments of crouching down, then reaching with dramatic longing toward the ceiling.

When I danced with Carla's group, or when I attended the meetings for worship, a lot of old baggage seemed to be melting away. I also discovered the joys of California-style weekend workshops focussing on gestalt therapy, self discovery and expression, and the like. I began to change, rapidly. And many intuitive experiences were yet to come.

Take a moment to be quiet and consider whether you are aware of intuitive promptings in your life. Do you tend to follow them or push them away? It takes bravery to realize that you don't know what the result of this prompting will be when it is put into action. Such promptings can be incredibly valuable, leading to openings into new, less limited experiences.