In a world that often prizes careful analysis, strategic planning, and long-term forecasting, we sometimes undervalue our hunches, those quiet nudges, inner whispers, and gut feelings that seem to rise up out of nowhere. As seniors we need to value our hunches and act on them.
But here's the truth: hunches, instincts, and intuition
are priceless because they do something remarkable, they get us moving.
They may not come with full clarity. They might not always
be “right” in the logical sense. But they stir us. They disrupt inertia. They
light the match when our plans are still soaking in hesitation.
While reason tells us to wait, intuition dares us to leap.
And it’s often in the act of following that hunch, taking
that uncertain first step, that the path begins to reveal itself.
The Quiet Corner Table
Maya had always played it safe. A reliable job, a tidy
apartment, and weekends that rarely strayed from her routine. Life was calm,
predictable, and, though she hated to admit it, just a little too quiet.
One Thursday afternoon, on her way home from work, she
passed a tiny café tucked between a dry cleaner and a dentist’s office. It
wasn’t new, but she’d never noticed it before. There was nothing remarkable
about the sign. No big crowd. Just a soft glow from the window and a chalkboard
out front that read, “Good ideas brew here.”
She almost walked past.
But something made her stop. A flicker of curiosity. A
hunch. A feeling that had no logic behind it, just an inexplicable pull.
“Why not?” she thought, and stepped inside.
The café was small and warm, with mismatched chairs and the
smell of cinnamon and ink in the air. In the back corner sat a man with a
typewriter, a typewriter, of all things, typing and tearing off pages
and pinning them to a board that said, “Stories Left Behind.”
Maya ordered tea and took a seat near the board. One page
caught her eye. It was a short piece about a girl who dreamt of becoming a
storyteller but never found the courage to begin. The last line read: “She
always had the words. She just didn’t know they were already waiting inside
her.”
Maya blinked. She had notebooks at home, full of ideas she
never pursued. She’d told herself for years she wasn’t “creative enough” to
write. But now something stirred, something bold, irrational, and alive.
The man with the typewriter noticed her staring. “You
write?”
“I used to,” she said. “Kind of.”
He smiled and nodded toward an empty page. “Want to leave a
story behind?”
She sat down, heart pounding, and began to write, not
because she had a plan, but because something deep inside whispered, Now.
Her hand moved faster than her thoughts. She wrote a few lines, then a
paragraph. She smiled. It wasn’t brilliant, but it was hers. And for the first
time in years, she felt a spark.
She returned to that café every week after that, filling
pages, finding her rhythm. Months later, she submitted a short story to a local
magazine. They published it. That small yes turned into a dozen more.
And to think, it all began because she listened to a hunch
and walked into a café she almost missed.
Final Thought
Hunches don’t always explain themselves. They rarely arrive
with a full roadmap. But they have an urgency that logic often lacks they push
us toward action.
And action, even small, uncertain action, is how we
find the places we’re meant to be, the people we’re meant to meet, and the
parts of ourselves we didn’t know were waiting to be awakened.
So next time your heart tugs you toward something that
doesn’t make sense, but somehow feels right, go. That hunch may be the first
step toward something extraordinary.
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