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Everyday Intuition

Articles Inspirational articles from Hay House authors

Everyday Intuition

The gift of tunnel vision.
Scott  Blum
Scott Blum More by this author
Oct 31, 2011 at 10:00 AM

Summer came quickly that year, and our lives had nearly returned to normal by the time of the solstice. Madisyn and I spent as much time as we could outside and made a point of visiting the many hidden gems showcasing Ashland’s natural beauty. Our favorite place was the Fairy Ponds at the edge of town, and we spent as much free time as we could exploring, and soaking in its charms. One of the most magical settings in all of Ashland, it felt like a medieval forest shrouded by natural arbors of hundred-year-old trees stretching majestically along the creek. A suite of shallow ponds gave the water a place to rest before rushing across the smoothed rocks and fallen branches along the meandering waterway.

“Did you see her in the tipi?” Madisyn asked one day after perching on a favorite boulder adjacent to one of the smaller ponds.

“No.” I knew when she was talking about Autumn because of the way she always arched her left eyebrow in the shape of a bassinet. “But I had an epiphany about how to remain present, and supportive of her transition.”

“What was that?”

“It’s hard to describe, but it boils down to acting more like a father and less like a friend.”

“I think that’s an ongoing challenge of being a parent.” She smiled.

“Probably.” I picked up a twig and tossed it upstream. We both watched as it deftly navigated around the maze of rocks before gracefully floating out of sight. “Sometimes I wonder if there’s any point in having the ability to communicate with spirits in other dimensions.”

“I know.” She laughed. “Why can’t they just leave us alone?”

Although Madisyn’s psychic gifts were much different from my own, she was also burdened by supernatural communication. I was sure I would have gone crazy if my life partner hadn’t been able to relate to what I was going through.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “It would be much easier if the only voices we heard were those of the people physically in the room with us.”

She nodded sympathetically.

“It’s hard enough to learn how we’re supposed to act in the world with all the different types of people on this planet. Everyone has different wants and needs, and it’s so easy to say or do the wrong thing even in the best of situations. But when you have to balance that with the expectations of disincarnate souls, it’s almost impossible to make everyone happy.”

“Wouldn’t it be great if we were born with instruction manuals?” Madisyn asked rhetorically. “Something that would explain all the rules about how we’re supposed to live.”

“That sounds like a good idea—maybe you should write one.”

“Maybe I will.” She smiled. “But at least we’re lucky we weren’t raised in families whose religious beliefs would demonize us or make us feel bad about our gifts.”

“That’s true—that would be horrible. But are psychic gifts really that special, or is everyone born with them? I mean, don’t we all have the ability to tune in to other dimensions if we simply nurture it?”

Madisyn shrugged. “Probably.”

“Because it seems like everyone has had at least one experience in life when they’ve felt some sort of communication from the other side.”

“Like when you think about a friend right before they call—”

“Exactly,” I interrupted. “Or when you have a bad feeling before turning down a dark alley.”

“Right. What people don’t seem to understand is that everyday intuition is the most basic form of supernatural communication. They assume that there needs to be a huge ‘sign from above’ before they will believe it’s happening to them.” Madisyn wasn’t usually a fan of “air quotes,” but in this case she couldn’t help herself.

“It seems to me that we’re all born with intuitive abilities. Look at children—they don’t have the same preconceived ideas about what is real or imagined. They just look at all of the information they are getting as part of their lives.”

“Like imaginary friends. Who’s to say that those friends don’t exist? In fact, many of my best friends have been imaginary.”

We both laughed.

“But then society tries to convince us that certain feelings aren’t real,” I noted. “Over time we’re conditioned to deaden our feelings with huge intellectual calluses that give us only a fraction of the intuitive ability we’re born with. Perhaps it was helpful during the past few centuries to put our intuitive gifts on hold, allowing us to evolve faster in the fields of science and technology.”

“The gift of tunnel vision.”

“Precisely. But isn’t it time to get out our psychic loofahs and scrub off our intellectual calluses so we can become whole again? We now have computers and biotechnologies, but at what cost?”

“They should let us rule the world,” Madisyn said dryly.

“Yeah—we could revamp the educational system and require formal metaphysical training for everyone. Starting with Intuitive Finger Painting in preschool and continuing through Conscious Business and the Art of Soulful Finance for MBA candidates.”

“Isn’t all finger painting intuitive?”

“Exactly. But very little finance is soulful.”

Madisyn nodded thoughtfully, and an impish smirk crept onto her face. “And once all the schools were fixed, we could outlaw mullets and gas guzzlers and hippie sandals . . .”

“Hey, wait! I like my hippie sandals!”

“I know you do.” She rolled her eyes.

It was nice to see Madisyn in a lighthearted mood after all the intensity that had plagued the previous several months.

At that moment a bright blue dragonfly appeared from nowhere and hovered between us. It floated for several seconds and turned from one of us to the other, appearing to look directly into our eyes.

I reflected on how Autumn had often revealed herself as a dragonfly in the past.

“Did you see that?” I asked Madisyn after it had flown away. “It looked just like . . .”

Madisyn nodded as a knowing smile shaped her lips. “Speaking of such things . . .”


“You know.”

“Are you . . . ?”

“I am.”

“Pregnant?” I wanted to be sure I was following the discussion.

“Of course, pregnant! What else would I be talking about? I’ve been pretty sure since yesterday.”

“Wow.” I gave her a hug. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her eyes beginning to water.

“I’m sure it will be much easier this time.” I did my best to comfort her through my embrace.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I hope so.”

About Author
Scott  Blum
Scott Blum is an author and the co-founder of the popular inspirational website DailyOM ( He is also a successful multimedia artist who has collaborated with several popular authors, musicians, and visual artists and has produced many cr Continue reading