The Mundanity of Intuition

The problem with intuition is that it can be hard to distinguish useful intimations from suggestions of what you want to happen, or are afraid might happen. Or from random frothy mental noise. It's hard to winnow truth from slop. I've written previously ("The Subtlety of Truth") that real intuition is quiet and doesn't nag, whereas emotion and froth holler on endless repeat. "God whispers while the Devil shouts" would be the cheesy storybook version. Real intuition feels like knowing. I just thought of another hallmark. Real intuition feels obvious. Often have I screeched my car to a halt in front of some seemingly generic noodle shop or bakery and eagerly polled passengers "doesn't that look fantastic?" while they squinted and shrugged. They don't see it. Which bedevils me. How can they not see it? That's how real intuition feels: remarkably mundane. So much so that you could be flowing deeply with it without realizing. Extraordinary ability feels flatly ordinary from the inside. My…