While sorting through old photos from what was once my Multiply page, I came across an image of this pastel board that I created way back in 2003. (Pardon the date stamp on the image; I really wish it weren’t there.)
This, to me, is one of the most concrete reminders of why I should continue to trust in intuition.
I still very clearly remember how this picture came to be: it was in June 2003, I was in the midst of a very deep and severe case of restlessness, and this image appeared to me in a dream. I woke up with the strong urge to create this piece, and I did what I could with the materials that I had. The words written there are: El fuego de amor nunca puede morir. I’m not sure if it’s a grammatically correct sentence, but what I intended to say is this: The flames of love will never die.
I was then in the midst of a lifeless relationship that was stifling and suffocating me, and my life at that point seemed utterly dull, gray, and flat. In my mind then, creating this picture was an initial attempt to grasp for whatever color, life, and passion I could reach for and make my own again. I was desperate to feel love again–I was desperate to feel alive again. In painting this, I was projecting a dream that I so badly wanted to become part of my reality.
A week later, I told one of my closest colleagues then that I felt my tummy all tied up in knots. “I’m so nervous,” I remember telling her. “I feel like something BIG is about to happen–like my life is about to turn upside down–but I don’t know WHAT exactly it will be about.” I was already preparing for my shift from full-time employee to full-time freelance writer, but I didn’t expect something else to happen to me in the midst of that transition.
Another week later, I was attending an impromptu meeting in a place I hardly visit when I ran into an old friend. He was someone I had known and admired from years back, but we had lost touch and this would be our first time to see each other in around five years. I felt something different about him; he, in turn, pointed out that I wasn’t “a little girl anymore.” We exchanged numbers and, before he left, he looked back and smiled in a way that made my heart stop.
That smile was, as the movie P.S. I Love You said, “the end of life as I knew it.”
A few weeks later, that same guy asked me out and took me in his arms in a sweet, painfully slow dance. Then I knew what that dream and that painting meant. Then I knew what would happen next.
Six years after that fateful night, THIS is what happened:
You never really know where intuition will take you, so open your eyes, open your inner mind, and let your inner voice be your guide.