The Sherpa Inside You: A Letter About Signs, Intuition, and the Quiet Knowing We Often Ignore

Sometimes intuition feels like a distant summit, a quiet pull toward what you can't yet see but somehow already know.

There are moments in life when something inside you whispers long before your mind catches up.

A tug.

A tightening in your stomach.

A sudden stillness.

A line from a song that pops into your head for no logical reason at all.

Most people call it intuition.

I think of it as the small, steady Sherpa inside you, guiding you up a mountain you don’t even know you’re climbing.

And the wildest part is that it never speaks the same way twice.

Some days it feels like a gut pull, a twisting low in your belly that says, This place, this plan, this person… not for you.

Other days it washes through you like calm.

The kind of quiet where everything inside your body exhales at once.

Where nothing feels forced.

Where your energy stops trying to outrun itself.

And then there are the inexplicable signs, the ones that don’t make any sense on paper but land with perfect clarity inside you.

For me, there’s a song from the 90s that drops into my mind out of nowhere, Please Don’t Go by KWS and without fail, it shows up as a warning when something in my spirit whispers, not this, not now.

A sequence of repeating numbers, 555, 111, making themselves known at the exact moment you’re asking a question you haven’t said out loud.

A vanity license plate drifting into view right when your chest is tight with uncertainty, handing you an answer you didn’t realize you were ready for.

A lyric that rises above the noise at the exact second you need it.

A stranger’s name echoing someone who’s been on your mind.

An idea that feels like a train already in motion, asking you to get on board because it’s leaving with or without you.

The universe has a sense of timing. Little winks like this show up right when your heart is asking for reassurance.

Your intuition is constantly trying to reach you.

Not through thunder or drama.

But through threads.

Whispers.

And timing that feels suspiciously perfect.

And yet, we lose connection to it so easily.

Stress scrambles the signals.

Anxiety fogs the frequency.

Overthinking adds static.

Emotional overwhelm puts your inner radio on every channel but the right one.

It’s like trying to tune a station in an old car.

You're twisting the dial, hearing pieces of music and bursts of static.

You know the clarity is there, but you can’t land on it until something inside you slows down.

For you, slowing down happens in unexpected ways.

A drive in the car with deep bass and drums vibrating through your chest.

That’s meditation too, you know.

Rhythm has always been one of the oldest doorways back into ourselves.

A dark room.

An eye mask.

A few minutes of letting your edges soften.

Or a blank page and a pen, letting the truth rise as your mind uncurls.

Intuition isn’t loud. It walks beside you like a steady companion, nudging you gently toward what is meant for you.

That’s the thing about intuition.

It doesn’t shout to be heard.

It waits for you to settle enough to feel the difference between noise and guidance.

And when you do, something beautiful happens:

Your intuition becomes the Sherpa again.

The quiet, steady companion who sees the terrain better than you do.

It’s the guide who knows when a path is washed out.

Knows when you need to slow down before you fall.

Knows when to take the longer route because the shorter one will break something in you.

Knows when to say, Not this. Not now. Trust me.

Signs are rarely dramatic. They slip into your day in small ways, quiet reminders that you’re being guided even when you feel alone.

Your intuition isn’t trying to make your life perfect.

It’s trying to make your journey safe.

Honest.

Aligned with who you really are, not who you think you’re supposed to be.

And when you let it lead, even a little, the climb softens.

The air clears.

You find your footing again.

So here’s my invitation for you today:

Pay attention to the smallest flickers.

The tiny yes.

The uneasy no.

The song lyric.

The number sequence.

The delay that is actually protection.

The idea that refuses to loosen its grip.

Your intuition has never stopped speaking to you.

You just forgot the sound of its voice for a little while.

Let it walk with you again.

Let it show you the next bend in the trail.

Let it help you climb this mountain with a little more breath, a little more trust, a little more ease.

You don’t have to know the whole path.

You just have to listen for the next step.

With you on the climb,

Val / A Light in the Chaos