Like all of us, I am frequently asked, “So, what do you do?”. It’s one of the rituals of being a human in society that I know often catches some side eye because occasionally saying “Hi, how are you?” or “How’s your day going today? or, “Have a nice day!” sounds trite and stale. We assume saying the words isn’t the same as meaning what they say, because it’s so automatic and requires so little effort.

But I think the willingness to enter into this kind of social contract with someone, anyone, usually a stranger, even using basically the same worn customary phrases, is still an expression of human kindness. It doesn’t necessarily mean we’re phoning it in, and even if we are, so what? It still means, “Hey, Fellow Person. I see you there. I acknowledge you. Like me, you are also alive.”

I’ve seen so many people sincerely light up when I participate in this ritual. Sometimes in the name of sincerity I’ll add a little flourish, like a compliment or a smile, but I think as long as you mean to be kind, it lands that way.

But “What do you do?” is a bit different, in that both the ask and the answer attempt to establish a deeper social context. We’re showing cursory interest in another, but it’s also a prelude for another level of connection. To ask someone what they do for a living communicates that you’re curious enough about them to be interested in their lives, but it also indicates you’re categorizing them too. Maybe even sizing them up a little. And in our late capitalist society, it regrettably defaults to establishing someone’s worth by their socio economic status. “So, Fellow Person. How do you spend your time and procure your income? I’m inquisitive about you in a potentially benevolent way that may lead to more connection.

But before I commit to that I’m gonna have to see some ID”.

In my case, it goes something like this:

I’m asked what I do, and I answer as I more or less have for almost forty years, “I’m an Intuitive.”

And then I wait. For the awkward pause. Which always comes.

Sometimes their mental scramble is quickly disguised by a chirpy and polite, “Oh!”, which seems to mean anything from “How interesting!” to “I think I know what that is but I’m not sure,” to “What the heck is that?”. Sometimes people use their out-loud voices to say those things instead of just thinking it, which I find refreshing and charming. I actually love it when that happens.

Mostly because I’m under no illusions about the world we live in, which has marginalized intuition and made it a needlessly complicated concept for most of us. When I say, “I’m an intuitive,” it’s not meant to be deliberately provocative. Yet, it can cause an instant brain kerfuffle for those who weren’t expecting it, which let’s face it is most people. So out of kindness and for the sake of clarity, I’ll often add, “It’s a fancy word for someone who is psychic”.

But that can be a perilous endeavor. Because if you thought “intuitive” was risky, “psychic” can be the conversational equivalent of the scratching noise a turntable arm makes as it’s ripping across an entire LP of social expectations. Or perhaps like the sound of a car’s screeching tires just before it slams into a wall.

Or alternatively, a loud fart. On a first date.

In the beginning, I used to just say that I was a psychic. But there came a time when I just couldn’t do it anymore. It felt like every time I said it my forehead would light up with a flashing neon hand with the red letters P S Y C H I C inside it, and then I’d get to spend the next several seconds watching whoever I was talking to attempt to get away from me. As they’d wade through layer after layer of misinformation and stereotypes, ever more confusing because they didn’t seem to apply to me, I’d wait hopefully to see if they might come to the conclusion that I seemed way too normal to be a psychic.

Which not everyone is willing to do.

(For the record, I don’t read fortunes. I don’t read minds. I don’t cast spells.

I am not Sybil Trelawney).

I am usually hopeful because in those cases where I might have ended up on some sort of Seems Okay Avenue in the giant mental cosmic Monopoly board, my categorization as such preserves an opening for both my conversational partner and myself. Which can often lead to great questions that I am happy to field. But more often than not, “psychic” just didn’t work. As quickly as the word left my mouth, it hovered in the air and became clear justification for any sudden doubts about my overall sanity and fitness as a functioning member of society.

I got used to the sound of a mind snapping shut.

On my website, it says that I don’t use the word “psychic anymore…since it conjures up images of a boozy redhead w/a crystal ball, and that, Dear Friends, is over. (No offense meant to boozy redheads. Or crystal balls).” It’s just not real to my experience, although in the mid 2000’s I had an unfortunate experience with boxed hair dye that sent me down a path of, shall we say, vibrancy that was truly jarring, and which also compelled me to apologize profusely to my stylist for even thinking for a second that it was a good idea. Just, yikes.

I’m actually less concerned with avoiding stereotypes than I am about educating folks about what intuition actually is, how we gain access to our own abilities, thereby improving life for everyone.

And even though I can do that just by living my life and telling the truth, I am pretty passionate about making a difference if and when I can. Over the years I’ve experimented with every single way of describing my work, trying to figure out the perfect way to describe it. “Spiritual Counselor”? No. Has a religious connotation and I work with people of all faiths and of none. “Medium”? Majorly misunderstood and only one part of what an intuitive’s skill set involves. “Intuitive Coach”? Ick. “Intuitive Counselor? Getting closer” . “Interpreter Of The Intuitive Arts?” Nope, nope, nope.

Air travel, funnily enough, became a fabulous practice ground. No matter what my seat mate thought about me once I revealed what I did for a living, they were without exception polite and mostly truly curious. Also, they couldn’t leave. Think about it: if you are someone’s captive audience, you want to be able to survive whatever kind of crazy could possibly be coming at you for the next several hours. Best to take it slow and steady, feign interest, and then just pretend to fall asleep after the drink service. But I also found that sitting next to a complete stranger while simultaneously being above 30,000 feet in a metal tube going very fast occasionally creates a kind of intimacy where people will share more than they might on the ground. Like the unspoken “what we talk about in the air stays in the air”. I’ve found some travelers to be more open-minded than they would have been on the ground.

I was also more relaxed in the air for exactly the same reasons. So I took a “no harm/no foul” approach, in that sense saying what I did for a living became the great leveler. If my seat mate reacted, shut down, and the conversation ground to a halt, no problem. I’d have the next few hours to read my book or watch movies. If they said, “Really. That’s fascinating. What is an intuitive, I don’t know anything about it,” I’d take it as an opening and prepare to spend a few minutes answering questions.

Sometimes, there were a lot of questions.

Over time, “Intuitive” seems to be the job title that has served me the best. It’s the most comfortable for the greatest number. It’s still way more mysterious than I’d like it to be, but it does create access for the genuinely interested while at the same time being a very accurate description of what I do. Maybe it’s probably never going to be what you’d call a crowd-pleaser, but it doesn’t freak people out like “psychic” does. And for some reason, if a person’s going to judge me anyway, “intuitive” seems to elicit one that’s a little less harsh, or at least their confusion buffers me from them thinking it too loudly in my direction.

Ultimately though, since intuitive is the description I’m most comfortable with, that may be why it works so well. Because my ease with it communicates safety and normality better than words or descriptions I’m using for the comfort of others. We marginalize what we are afraid of, and then we mistrust what we have marginalized. Back and forth ad infinitum until we learn otherwise. Intuition is unfortunately still straightjacketed by the context we put it in, believed by most to be rare, unreliable, and dangerous. Our intuition is weird to us, by default.

But some of us are lucky to know that intuition is quite easily the most rock solid, powerful, and helpful part of our human capacity, one that is sorely needed in our lives and in our world. It’s my favorite natural resource.

So for now, I’m sticking with intuitive. I keep it at the ready like a business card, for use at cocktail parties and meetings, sometimes if I’m feeling brave enough, for intake forms and applications, first dates and of course, on airplanes. It’s easy to say, and for folks that are ready to learn more, it’s a great conversation starter.

It’s not only what I do, it’s who I am. And it may be the truest thing about me.

Holding you in my heart always,

Susan