Trust30, day 24: Intuition

The secret of fortune is joy in our hands. – Ralph Waldo Emerson

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?

Later in the day, I'm glad that I sat and meditated before reading what today's post was about. As I am accessing this part of me, I had to ask it what it would look like if it were to appear.

I received a very clear picture of a young boy, probably around age of seven or eight. He has a wide, beaming smile and a full head of brown hair. It sounds cliched but he has "twinkling blue eyes," deep set in his face.

Looking at those eyes, they are the most incredible part of him. The reason that they are so deep is because they are the one feature that isn't a natural fit for a boy of this age.

These are old eyes, wise eyes. Eyes that have seen a lot, know a lot and maintain a deep joy for life and the game we create.

Yes, these are definitely eyes that know.

He walks over to me and takes my hand in both of his, examining it as if looking for something. After a few seconds, he turns up to lock eyes with me while still grasping my hand. Those eyes are like looking into the night when a billion stars are on fire.

"So," he asks me, "are you finally glad that you came?"

I knew that was going to be what he asked me. There was no doubt about it. It's merely the circle coming around to meet itself.

An incredibly vivid dream that I had for what seemed to be an eternity when I was young was standing at the gates of heaven. I was crying, pounding, imploring to all of my family on the opposite side to let me back in. That I had changed my mind, that I wanted to stay.

They said that I had to go, that I had made them promise, knowing that this was going to be the scene that we played out.

I have relived the feeling of that dream in rebirthing sessions in the past while staying in fifty degree water for more than an hour before they had to pull me out. It is the deepest sorrow that I have ever known, the origin of my "death urge" and I can feel vestiges of it lingering even now as I write these words.

But this, I absolutely know; I chose it. I desired to "come here" and know on an even deeper level. For that to happen, you must totally forget so that you think you are "risking" it all.

That is what my life story is about.

I turn to the child with those starry blue eyes, the mortal representation of all of those "left behind" as I quested in this life.

Speaking to him, to them all, I answer, "I wouldn't have done it any other way. Yes, I am very glad that I chose this and came under the circumstances that I did.

And although I know it isn't necessary, I forgive both you and myself over this abandonment. You played your part well and I see so clearly how you have been with me always. Thank you."

"It's nothing that you haven't done for me," says the boy. "Soon, you'll remember it all."