"Intuition isn’t a mystery – it’s a skill we can remember and trust."
“For years, I thought pushing harder was the only way. Then, the forest spoke to me.”
I’m on Cebu Island, sitting beside an Aphanantha Philippinensis, a common rainforest tree otherwise known as a native elm. The air is syrupy with heat. A gushing waterfall fills my ears though I can’t see its source. I close my eyes and increase the length of my breaths, sensing how each inhale stretches and kneads my chest. With every exhale, a deep unwinding ripples from my throat down to my lower abdomen. The wash of calm is instantaneous.
I feel immense relief for the years I spent struggling on a meditation cushion, battling the nuisance of my incessant, largely negative mind and the painful absence of a peaceful inner landscape. Back then, when I tried to move my attention through my body, all I encountered were loud twinges, uncomfortable stiffness, or an unsettling sense of nothingness – like staring into a black hole.
Now, as I watch and sense the flow of air into me, through me and from me, I feel it in multiple ways: wind and temperature at my nostrils and down the back of my throat, the shifting rhythm of my heartbeat, the blissful kinship of softness in my belly. Profound gratitude washes over me. At last, I can enter the present moment with the ease of pulling back a curtain in a darkened room, allowing the sun to stream in, once more.
With my eyes still closed, I begin the process of connecting with the Aphanantha Philippinensis. Over a year ago, when I launched Wild Muse to share my experiences as a tree goddess, I was nervous about how my conversations with nature would be received. Now, more than ever, I feel the necessity of sharing these stories.
It occurs to me, that the way I prepare for connection and conversation with a tree could also be a model for the way we converse with each other. This practice has certainly given me a new approach when I’m talking with friends and clients.
Firstly, I commit to emptying my mind – much like sitting in a small boat and bailing out water. Over the years, the boat of my mind has transformed from a sunken wreck, covered in barnacles of past hurts, into a floating, beautifully varnished rowing boat. It used to have a gaping hole in the stern where my history would flood in daily, spilling forward through a crack in the bow, colouring my dreams with anxiety and dread. But that has changed now.
Emptying my mind is not about ignoring my thoughts – it’s about noticing when I’m thinking (when I’m taking on water) and then actively pouring it out over the side. Most of us are never taught how to do this. As children, when we first shared our experiences of ‘taking on water’, we were often met with dismissive phrases: ‘Not now, dear’ – a message that this was the ‘wrong’ time to be thinking, but no guidance on how to only think at the right time. Or, perhaps we were told, ‘Don’t worry about it’ – instilling a sense that concern itself is the problem, without the vital guidance on how to process that concern and achieve a carefree state.
Through diligent practice, I’ve learnt to gather up my thoughts in my hands, hold them, know them, and then set them free. Not only does this empty out my little rowing boat head, but it also transports me from the ‘small mind’ of incessant thinking to the vastness of the ‘large mind’. Here, I am no longer a boat, but the entire ocean and sky. Spacious. Magical.
Like this, I sense and connect with the tree.
When thoughts come, they’re no longer anchors pulling me into submerged distraction – they’re like a tiny fly buzzing past my ear, fleeting and insignificant. In this place, free from the belief that my thoughts are all that exists, I experience what truly does exist: the warmth of the sun on the back of my neck, communicating that I am seen and loved, always. The pulse of the earth beneath me, tells a story of everlasting safety. I have no skin, no worries. I’m both the size of a seed and the breadth of a galaxy, spreading infinitely.
In the microscopic limitless of myself, nestled beside the tree, I suddenly sense a distinct, visceral shift in my body. And I know, for absolute certain, that this is what the Aphanantha Philippinensis wishes me to receive.
I give my full attention to the detailed repositioning happening in my torso. It’s like placing a magnifying glass over a tiny, delicate feather floating on the breeze and, in an instant, understanding – with miraculous clarity – that so much more is occurring than a simple, upward drift. From the outer edges of my hips to my solar plexus and heart, I feel the aliveness in my body’s temperature. The warmth I experience is far more than just heat. As I touch it with my awareness, my mind opens to its meaning – like a finger reading braille, suddenly comprehending a story.
The microscope of my attention absorbs generations of energy, cells of everlasting light. And I see. I see how the most vital components of my being have nothing to do with university degrees, promotions, awards, successful relationships, or bank balances.
My mouth drops open as something within me shifts. In this centred, natural place beside the Aphanantha Philippinensis, I watch as these true aspects of myself rise – like moths drawn to a light that has just been revealed.
I stay with this experience for several minutes, feeling the magical aliveness of what I know to be my most authentic self, rising. In this state of deep awareness and surrender, I realise what the tree is showing me: this self, the one I’m feeling now, will naturally lift towards my true destiny, if I let it.
One word comes to me.
Intuition.
Tears spill down my face.
"I had to learn how to empty my boat before I could float toward what was meant for me."
It is an exquisite, fantastical experience – to be here, in the Philippines, so far from my homeland and the trees that have, until now, been my mentors. And yet, thousands of miles from where this journey began, I receive the next instalment in a thread of teaching that first wove itself into my life months ago, back in the UK.
Intuition.
It’s what brought me here, to Cebu in the first place.
The beauty of what the Aphanantha Philippinensis is offering me – and the reason for my tears – lies in its connection to the shift between unconscious competence and conscious competence, two steps in the Four Stages of Competence learning model:
Unconscious Incompetence – You don't know what you don't know.
Conscious Incompetence – You realize what you don’t know and begin learning.
Conscious Competence – You can do it, but it requires effort and focus.
Unconscious Competence – The skill becomes second nature and automatic.
When I first received the message that I was a tree goddess, I had no idea how I had received it – only that it was the key to moving from unconscious incompetence to conscious awareness. Up until that moment, I’d been burning out, unaware of what I didn’t know. Being told I was a tree goddess illuminated just how much I didn’t know and, crucially, pointed me toward a path of learning.
The reason I’m here in Cebu is largely due to the way I’ve been shifting out of autopilot – out of the old conditioning and survival strategies that kept me trapped in cycles of burnout. I hadn’t even realised I was disconnected from my intuition; I thought pushing harder was the only way. Then, the forest first spoke to me. I saw the pattern. I realised I had no idea how to truly listen to my intuition, but I knew it held the key to freedom: to a life of ease, abundance, and the deep soul connection with a man I had longed for my entire life.
During my ‘tree apprenticeship’ – the years I spent conscious of my incompetence, learning all I could from the forest – I received the first nudges about my twin soul. I began sensing he was an American with college-aged kids, living near Beaver Creek. I’ve already written about my journey to Colorado last year and how I met this very man – Bonn. But even then, I still didn’t fully understand how intuition worked. I wasn’t sure if I could differentiate it from the general notions and ideas my mind casts up. I couldn’t articulate how I sensed and translated this intuition or how I’d followed it so successfully.
One example comes from the first few days I spent with Bonn after we had met in a hot tub at Idaho Springs. On one level, I knew he was the one my soul had come here to choose. And yet, my body and mind weren’t yet wired to live as if that knowing was absolute truth. Intuition still sat at the bottom of the priority pecking order – whimsical, childish. My little rowing boat was taking on water, small thinking flooding in: But you hardly know him! You’ve only just met. Are the two of you really going to create the sanctuary of adventure, intimacy and growth you’ve been dreaming of when you live four thousand miles apart?
I had one thing to guide me – a soft, luminous voice in my head, a gift from the forest. A tiny phrase, I’d heard while sitting on the roots of a very special tree in the New Forest. It always appears when I need it most.
‘My love,’ it says with such vibrant, tender warmth. ‘You know where that path leads.’
It reminds me that as much as I feel compelled to listen to the fear-based thoughts in my mind, I already know where they lead – to exhaustion, dissatisfaction and burnout. The very place the forest had found me when I lived by those thoughts.
The moment I scooped up those thoughts and poured them over the side of my little rowing boat, I felt myself bathed in the present moment. Even though Bonn and I had ‘only just met’, I knew myself to be exactly where my authentic self had been reaching for my entire life: alongside the twin to my soul. Even if I couldn’t explain how!
And now, here I am, in the Philippines, three months after that first meeting in the hot tub, sitting beside an Aphanantha Philippinensis, receiving the next vital piece of tuition – while meters away Bonn waits patiently for me to finish my conversation.
I know now that intuition is not a mystery reserved for the gifted few – it’s an inherent part of all of us, a sense as real as sight or touch. But it must be trusted, trained, and understood. My journey has been one of learning its language, discerning it from fear or wishful thinking, and allowing it to lead me with the same certainty as the rising sun.
Here, on Cebu Island, beside this native elm, I receive a deep confirmation that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. And later, as I rejoin Bonn and he asks what the tree said, I carry with me the profound knowing that intuition is both revealing my truth and guiding me toward my destiny.
In my next podcast episode, I’ll be exploring intuition in more depth: how to recognize intuition, how to strengthen it, and how to trust it when it leads us somewhere unexpected. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the Aphanantha Philippinensis, it’s that intuition is the map to the life we’re truly meant to live.
Trusting intuition is a journey, and we all have our own way of learning to listen. What has your experience been like? Let me know in the comments.
And if this post spoke to you, I’d be grateful if you shared it with someone who might need a little reminder to trust their inner knowing.
As always, wishing you creative contentment.
Gabriela, tree goddess.
Offerings
March’s online workshops focus on ‘Igniting Creative Confidence and Overcoming Blocks’ through Safe Creativity, Chakra Yoga, and Nature Healing.
Safe Creativity – ‘Renegotiating Fear and Judgment’
Wednesday, 12th March, 6pm - 8pm
Explore how fear of judgment stems from trauma and impacts creative authenticity.
Learn tools to move through fear and rediscover creative passion.
Chakra Yoga – Solar Plexus Chakra: ‘Igniting Creative Confidence’
Wednesday, 19th March, 6pm - 8pm
Build inner strength and self-trust to express your truth.
Release perfectionism and embrace imperfections.
Nature Healing – Fire Element: ‘Burning Through Creative Blocks’
Wednesday, 26th March, 6pm - 8pm
Use guided meditations and rituals with fire as a metaphor for transformation.
Identify and release self-limiting beliefs holding back your creative flow.
Each session is designed to help you reconnect with your creativity, move past resistance, and step into your artistic power.
Beautiful. It’s much the same for me. When my life fell apart the first time the trees I had always had a close connection to began to guide me. Reading this just now is a beautiful reminder as I find myself in another major life transition. I’m so grateful you shared your experience.
The ease with which you could read what's on your our mind and the sensations running through your body