Share Your Intuition

February 2026

Remember Me?

During a recent Didi ride, I felt as though I’d met the driver before. He reminded me of a previous Uber driver, whose face I couldn’t remember. This confused me because that other guy had been friendly, engaging, and chatty, whereas the current one said nothing when I greeted him, and was quiet for most of the trip. I wondered if he was preoccupied, antisocial, or maybe hadn’t heard me. I was busting to know if it was the same person – my intuition told me so! – but couldn’t figure out how to ask. If it wasn’t him, it could make the rest of the trip awkward. If it was, how was I to broach the subject? I made another couple of attempts at conversation which didn’t go anywhere.

After resigning myself to the fact that I’d never know, I gazed out the window and thought back to a call I’d had earlier in the morning. I’d been told on that call that we can always view our lives as though it’s a movie scene, and we can act as the writer or director of whatever scene that’s playing. About five minutes away from my destination, I thought of the current situation as if it were part of a movie and realised how boring it would be to watch. If I wanted a more entertaining scene, then something would have to change.

“Were you driving for Uber last year?” I asked, hoping it didn’t sound too dumb.

Unexpectedly, he perked up and quickly glanced back towards me. “You remember me?” he asked. “I … think so?” I replied. His demeanour completed changed. “I thought you looked familiar! I was trying to think, trying to remember, before I said anything.” The memories of our previous interaction flooded back. “You’re an early sleeper?” I asked. “You go to bed at 8pm?” He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, I am him! I am him who you remember.”

I recalled how he’d said he liked going to sleep soon after it got dark, and to wake each morning around 5am or earlier. That was at a time when I’d been wanting to adopt a much earlier bedtime than usual (to join a series of online events that started well before sunrise) but had doubts about whether such a change would be possible or acceptable by those around me with much later daily rhythms.

“You inspired me,” I said. “I told people about you after we met, and how it felt like permission for me to sleep early.”

“Last night I went to bed at 7.30pm,” he laughed. “I have a lot of energy during the day, and tests show I’m still very healthy.”

By the time the trip ended, there was a clear sense of warmth and cheeriness, and we both agreed on how nice it was to have spoken with each other again.

Opening Up

As the week went on, I continued to share more of my thoughts, intuition, and curiosities as they arose, without censoring myself. The more I did this, the more other people seemed to open up around me, especially about topics related to intuitive experiences and spirituality.

On one occasion, during what was supposed to be a purely business-related transaction with a woman I barely knew, I felt compelled to comment on something about her appearance that caught my attention. In response, she told me that there was a story behind it, how it was related to a non-physical vision she’d had, as well as emotionally vulnerable times from her past. What would otherwise have been a dull interaction became an enjoyable, meaningful discussion. 

Later the same day, I met with a different lady (about another practical matter) and ended up mentioning psychic abilities, after feeling a ping to do it. She then began to share how intuitive she’d been as a child, but how logic took over and “squashed” that part of her when she got older. As an adult, she also doubted whether people would be receptive to hearing about her woo-woo experiences; she then proceeded to reveal some of them to me. This was from someone who I’d known for years, but who I’d never heard speak of such things before.

Vulnerable Sharing

As fate would have it, a participant of the most recent group call I facilitated brought up the issue of sharing her intuition and spirituality with others. She said she’d never shared this part of herself with anyone outside our small group consultations, or at least not to the same extent. The very idea of doing so led her to feel quite vulnerable.

Sharing our intuition is a very vulnerable endeavour, on multiple levels.

First, there’s the vulnerability of sharing what we’ve sensed intuitively without knowing if it’s accurate. How can we tell whether it’s “right” or not? How do we even describe it properly? Intuition is often subtle, and its messages can come through images or feelings that are challenging to communicate clearly with another person.

Second, there’s no way to predict how others will respond when we share our deepest feelings and intuitive hunches. Will they respect what we share, or be disapproving? It’s not easy to share amidst such uncertainty about how our words will be received.

Third, sharing intuition is not only vulnerable in terms of what we are saying, but also because of who we are showing ourselves to be. It exposes our inner, intuitive self which is often child-like. It loves to play and thrives when expressed, but on the flipside, can become deeply hurt when dismissed or criticised in any way. It is, by its very nature, incredibly vulnerable.

Palm Reader

Some people try to get around this vulnerability by either hiding their intuition or filtering it in such a way that seems safer, or less open to negative reactions from others.

My mum, for instance, has a knack for reading palms but has often been reluctant to share everything she sees. Although she’s never offered readings professionally, her reputation among family and friends was such that at many social gatherings, people would queue up to sit next to her, hold out their hands eagerly, and listen to what she had to say. Apparently, Mum was eerily accurate even with guests who she hadn’t met or known about previously.

Mum’s tendency to withhold information, particularly if she thought it was not what someone wanted to hear, may have been partly due to my dad’s influence, as he always urged her not to say too much. “Don’t tell people bad news”, he would repeat on the drive home from another dinner party. “It’ll just upset them.”

Each time my parents agreed on the importance of filtering what was shared, I would be in the back seat wondering, “What if this could serve as an important warning? Wouldn’t it be good to know about an upcoming disaster in advance, to prepare for it, work out ways to cope with it, or possibly avoid it altogether?”

As the recipient of some of Mum’s palm readings, it was maddening at times to watch her studying my hands, murmur a few sentences while nodding to herself, then close my fingers over my palms while saying, “Oh you don’t believe in this stuff anyway, do you?” Sometimes I was successful in convincing her that I did believe it, or was at least open to it, and so she would reluctantly share both the good and not-so-good things that she could sense and interpret from the lines on my palms.

Marnie

By contrast, Mum had a great aunt named Marnie who was reputed to be unapologetically psychic, without filtering what she thought or saw. Mum frequently referred to her as nutty, but also said she was very compassionate and wise in her own way.

While writing this article, I asked Mum why she called Marnie nutty. Her answer involved recalling a series of incidents when Marnie had been outrageously outspoken, without caring about social niceties while interacting with others, which had the effect of shocking those around her.

“She was eccentric, then,” I thought aloud. “That’s not necessarily the same as nutty.”

The most memorable story Mum told about her great aunt was from a time when my parents were in a bad place financially, struggling to pay the bills and facing eviction from their home. Mum had been at a payphone, asking if she could borrow money from family. After the last call, hearing that no one was able to lend any cash, Mum walked away from the phone booth with tears streaming down her face.

As she wondered how to cope with the current situation, she noticed the figure of a woman walking down a hill towards her, appearing magical with the bright red and gold colours of the sunset behind her. As she approached, she saw it was Marnie.

“Hello darling”, her great aunt greeted her. She pulled out a wad of cash right then and there on the street, placing it in Mum’s hand. “I thought you might need this.” It was enough to catch up on the rent.

Mum said it was as though Marnie had miraculously overheard her plea for help and materialised out of thin air to respond – she almost looked as though she’d descended from the sky, coming down the hill the way she did. I asked if she’d already arranged to see Marnie that day, but apparently not. She had not been expecting visitors, nor had she been in contact with Marnie for several months. My parents didn’t have a phone back then, and they hadn’t told anyone before that afternoon about their financial troubles. Furthermore, Marnie lived far away and didn’t drive a car. She’d caught a ferry and a bus to see Mum, somehow timing it in such a way that they crossed paths at that serendipitous moment, right at the corner of Mum’s street.

Imagine if my great, great aunt had doubted her intuition, or worried about how her unexpected visit might be received. Marnie could have talked herself out of it. Someone else in her position might have thought, “Do I really need to go and offer this cash today? My great niece might not even be home. Or she could have moved to another apartment. I’ll have to spend hours on public transport. It might be offensive or confusing, to offer this money without being asked, without checking if it’s even needed. The more I think about it, the more this all sounds like a big waste of time. I might just leave it for now.”

Share Your Intuition

Going back to the vulnerability of sharing our intuition, it’s true that what we sense will not always be accurate or interpreted correctly. That’s okay.

It’s also true that not everyone responds well to intuitive-related conversations. Sometimes we can suss out who will be open to woo-woo topics, but other times it’s not clear.

If we show our intuitive selves, some people might indeed feel uncomfortable or think we are weird. That too is okay in the grand scheme of things.

When I sent my first proper email update about the intuitive work I was doing, some people loved it and some thought it unprofessional to be including personal stories the way I did. At the time, I considered changing the newsletter to include only formal announcements and information about available services. Then I realised, the ones who liked my personal anecdotes wouldn’t be happy if I cut them out. There was simply no way to please everyone. I decided that if just one person was helped or inspired by a personal story about intuition, then telling that story was worthwhile.

There have been two occasions in the past when I was told that a reading I’d given had saved someone’s life. While I don’t personally take credit for saving anyone, I can take credit for passing on the intuitive guidance that came through. I chose to share my intuition rather than keep it to myself.

How much of our intuition needs to be shared? It’s always a personal choice, and it depends on the context, as well as who we’re with. Yes, we could be considered nutty by others or offend them with our unfiltered sharing. But perhaps that’s a small price to pay, if just one person might benefit from it. What if that sharing could even indirectly save a life? 

I suspect there are countless people who are hiding their intuitive, spiritual side and yet are longing to express it. I remember once when I spoke of my own reluctance to share spirituality in what seems like an extremely left-brained, materialistic world, a friend challenged my belief about this. She pointed out that the majority of people worldwide are spiritual, whether religiously devout, engaged in new age spiritual practices, or simply open-minded about the mysteries of life. Realising the truth of this has made it easier to more openly express this part of myself. 

Sharing our intuition can serve as a permission slip of sorts for others to do the same. Try it, then notice how others respond in kind.

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