Intuition doesn’t follow a process; it simply leaps from the problem to the solution. It’s a shortcut. It’s a flash of insight.
Intuition is an entirely different entity compared to reason, as different as a bird is from a fish. Reason debates and employs a method to arrive at a conclusion, like a detective piecing together clues to solve a mystery. Intuition, on the other hand, is a sudden leap. It doesn’t follow a process. It’s like a bird taking flight, soaring directly to its destination without any intermediary steps.
Numerous mathematicians have solved complex mathematical problems without delving into the process, much like a master chef who can create a delicious dish without following a recipe. Their approach was intuitive. You merely state the problem, and before you’ve even finished, the solution appears. It’s like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. You’re still speaking, and the moment you’re done, or even before, the answer is there. This phenomenon has always baffled mathematicians, like a puzzle with missing pieces. intuitions and insights, for many mathematicians, are of great importance.
Buddha’s enlightenment was a product of intuition, which dawned upon him when he relinquished his relentless pursuit of attainment. His mind, weary from the constant quest for answers, found illumination the moment he let go of all seeking. This is the essence of intuition, a revelation that emerges not from the logical mind, but from a space beyond it.
Our intuition has been worn away. Men’s intuition is almost entirely diminished, like a once vibrant painting now faded and peeling due to the relentless passage of time. Women’s intuition, however, is less tarnished, which is why women often experience what’s referred to as a hunch. A hunch is a sliver of intuition, like a single petal from a once blooming flower. It can’t be validated.
Imagine you’re about to embark on a long road trip, and a woman simply declares she’s not going and advises you not to proceed. She has a feeling that something isn’t right. This seems irrational, like refusing to set sail because of a single ominous cloud. Yet, the next day, you hear on the news that there was a massive pile-up on the very highway you were supposed to travel. The woman can’t articulate how she knew. There’s no logical explanation. It’s just a hunch, a gut feeling, akin to a wild animal sensing an imminent earthquake. But even this is worn away, which is why it’s merely a transient insight, like a fleeting rainbow after a storm.