Is Trusting Our Intuition Always Best?
Exploring the limits of our gut feelings — and if those feelings can fail us
Is trusting our intuition always best?
I always believed so, but for the first time — I questioned this today.
As I was lighting the fire upon waking this morning — as per my normal morning routine — I sat in front of the burning wood stove, watching my creation come to life. The flickering flames grew taller and stronger with each passing moment.
With my gaze set upon the dancing flames, I noticed a spider scurry out of a crevasse in a panic as its surroundings began to heat up.
I felt for the spider and hurriedly tried to find something to rescue him with. As I reached in with the fire poker, he dodged it and instinctively sought safety in the first dark sheltered nook he could find - somewhere deep in the peeling and curling birch bark.
The spider was following his innate survival intuition when faced with danger. He was doing the very thing that had kept him safe from larger beings and dangerous predators his entire life. This intuitive survival instinct - passed down through millions of years of evolution — was embedded deep in his DNA.
I felt pity for the spider. There was nothing I could do for him now, and he would surely face a painful death. His own intuition was failing him. In this case, his true escape lay toward the gaping open space, the threshold of the stove door, and the giant human creature beyond it — but how could he know, let alone understand this?
An internal battle began within me. I wrestled with the tragedy unfolding in front of my eyes, accepting that I had caused the spider's misfortune but also recognizing that I could not help him.
And then something happened.
The spider emerged from his hiding place — a final, desperate attempt at survival. I extended the fire poker once more, and this time, he climbed on. He would die, but not in this moment. Not burned alive by the scorching flames.
I carried him to the front door, taking care that he did not fall.
I felt joy knowing I had managed to rescue the spider after all — a sense of guilt lifted from my heart.
But that moment of triumph ended quickly. I released the spider outside — onto a pile of ice and cold December snow — no climate for a creature of his nature.
What is a man to do?
I’m sorry little spider. But I hope your story lives on, buried deep within the vast expanse of the internet for millions of years to come. I hope someone, centuries from now, reads of you - and your unwavering commitment to keep fighting and surviving until it is no longer possible.
And in so doing — I hope your story inspires them to do the same.