Intuition vs Old Patterns: My Letters from Love Practice

There is a certain kind of quiet that intuition speaks in. A softness, a warmth, a clarity that doesn’t rush. But for so many of us, that voice feels small because the voice of fear learned to speak so much louder.

And fear had its reasons.Fear learned to protect us.Fear learned to anticipate pain.Fear learned to keep us safe at all costs, even if the cost was closeness, expansion, or joy.

For a long time, I couldn’t tell the difference between intuition and fear. They both lived inside me, both spoke with familiarity, both felt convincing. But the difference wasn’t in what they said: it was in the texture of how they said it.

Fear is urgent.

Fear demands.

Fear warns.

Intuition simply knows.

It doesn’t need to persuade.

The practice that changed everything for me was beginning to write “Letters from Love.” When I was confused or overwhelmed or unable to hear myself clearly, I would sit down, close my eyes, and ask:

If Love were speaking right now, what would it say?

Not love as romance.

Not love as performance.

Love as essence.

Love as the quiet truth inside the body.

That voice is spacious.

Kind.

Steady.

And every time I listen to it, I feel myself come back into my center.

This is the work. Not always to choose the easy path, but to learn to recognise which voice is actually ours.

And most of the time, the voice of intuition is the one that feels like exhale.