My first (self-published) novel was full of mysticism. My Catholic upbringing made sure I remained aware of powerful forces beyond my perception but always guiding, and being guided, by me. Dreams always had implications in my waking world. Random thoughts or urges were windows into the infinite. As time went on, though, I trusted psychology more and how it deemed these untethered pieces of information as random. I'm a therapist in my day job, after all.
Lately intuition has broken back into my consciousness in ways only a fool would deny. Recently I thought of a friend's mother, someone I've never met but I know she has cancer. Texting my friend I find out it's her mother's birthday. Another day I realized an ex-coworker never responded to my check in months ago. I text again and find out she's been having serious relationship and mothering struggles. Bottom line: my intuition seems to work fine, but it is not finely tuned. Beware if I think of you. You could find twenty bucks or have a heart attack.
I've really enjoyed Orion magazine. An article in their recent edition discussed the messiness of words and how they can either legitimize our experience, or dull it, falling short of encapsulating existence. To me, intuition is our mind/soul's way of letting us know that words aren't everything. I think this article from Orion depicts this well, along with the wonder and mystery of nature we all feel: