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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas #947753 added December 18, 2018 at 6:26pm
Restrictions: None
Gut Feeling
Prompt: In figuring out--beforehand--what other people will do, how often do you get it right? Does your sixth sense or gut feeling help or does it confuse you?
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I seriously think the sixth sense is a God-given gift, and not everyone has it and/or not everyone can read it well.
My problem with it is that I sometimes don’t believe it, thinking it is my alter ego or my brain sending me a warped message.
Here is an example that happened a few decades ago. I was in a big city in a foreign country, which I am not going to name, but what one I might call a third-world country. In those days, I didn’t know what fear was. I was walking on a street, a main thoroughfare, where one could cross at the crossing signs quite safely, although the natives crossed it anywhere they wanted to and, more often than not, someone was hit by a vehicle.
I was going to get on the train across the street to visit a friend who had invited me to stay overnight. There were two crossing places that I could take. I wanted to take the first one because the crossing was shorter and it would also save me extra walking. When I stopped at the first crossing, I had this feeling in my midriff that something would go wrong. Someone even whispered, “Not here, it is risky,” but I thought it was my imagination. After all, being alone as a young woman in such a place can make a person be alert.
I looked around and there was nothing to worry about. The street was crowded and both sidewalks on opposite sides were full of people. So, I didn’t listen to my gut feeling. I crossed the street. On the opposite side, I was still feeling uncomfortable but I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was my mind playing tricks. Like me, many other people were going to the trains, and I didn’t notice anything, except that a certain person kept walking with me. I already had a ticket so I walked right in. Someone sat next to me on the train. He smelled, no reeked, of liquor. He was the same person walking behind me.
Then, he began talking. I answered, thinking he just wanted to talk, but a little later, he put his arm around me and he started saying far too forward things. One of them was that he had seen me while I was crossing the street and he was stunned. I wanted to get up, but he held me down. It was a very bad feeling. I told him, if he doesn’t stop, I’d scream. He said since I had been talking to him, everyone would think it a lover’s quarrel. At that time, I kept looking around and spotted a vacated seat across the aisle, plus the ticket conductor coming from the back of the wagon to punch the tickets. He was walking toward where I was. Thinking, the guy wouldn't dare to hold me down by force with the conductor in view, I suddenly arose and took that empty seat next to an old woman.
It wasn’t finished with that. When I got off the train, it was getting dark, and he followed me to my friend’s house. I was quite scared, simply because, in that country, if you made waves and got everyone’s attention, you would be the one to be blamed, and possibly, they wouldn't let me leave the country until they got to the bottom of things, which has happened to some foreigners. And, I didn't want to attract attention, anyway.
Other things also happened, but most of them were good, such as my gut feeling telling me to pick a certain-colored ticket from a jar to win a present.
I pay better attention to my sixth sense now, just about anything, but I am almost always unsure, at first, if the warning or the tip is my sixth sense, my judgment, or my imagination.
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