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Why listening to your gut (and not gaslighters) is basically the Gita-approved life hack you’ve been ignoring.

INTRO:

Okay, picture this: You’re halfway through your overpriced oat milk latte, sitting across from someone who swears they're "just bad at texting," and your stomach does this weird little backflip. No, not butterflies. Not excitement. Something more like… a tiny internal eye-roll. You ignore it. Why? Because they’re cute, they laughed at your weird joke about reincarnation, and they say all the right things—except your insides are staging a full-blown protest.
Welcome to your intuition: the voice of divine wi-fi that never loses signal, no matter how loud someone’s manipulation playlist is on shuffle.

And trust me, Krishna already warned us about this in the Bhagavad Gita. Minus the lattes.

1. Intuition: The Original “Read Between the Lines” Feature
You ever notice how your gut catches red flags before your brain has even put on its glasses? That’s not paranoia, darling—that’s spiritual bluetooth. In the Gita, Krishna says the Self—your inner compass—is not just chilling in the background for aesthetic reasons. It knows when someone’s words and energy don’t match, when the smile feels hollow, when the “I'm just busy” texts are dripping in passive-aggressive confetti.

And yet, we go, “Maybe I’m overthinking.”
Spoiler alert: You’re not. You’re under-listening.

2. But What If I’m Just Being Dramatic?
Here’s the thing: If your intuition was a character in a romcom, it’d be the best friend who always knows the villain boyfriend two scenes before the big betrayal. She doesn’t yell, she doesn’t lecture—she just raises a perfectly arched eyebrow and sips her wine knowingly.
And yet, you mute her. Because someone told you being “emotional” is less valid than being “logical.” But logic without intuition? That’s how you end up dating people who say things like “I don’t believe in labels” while secretly auditioning for The Bachelor.

3. Manipulation Always Wears Nice Shoes
Let’s be honest—manipulation doesn’t show up with a villainous laugh and a PowerPoint presentation. It shows up charming. Disarming. Possibly with a leather jacket and excellent taste in playlists.
But here’s where the Gita comes in like the OG life coach. Krishna basically teaches that we must anchor ourselves in self-awareness. That means tuning into our inner stability—not someone else’s chaotic version of love, friendship, or “just vibing.”

So, the next time someone’s behavior makes you feel like you need to mentally diagram their texts, just know: your gut isn’t trying to ruin the vibe. It’s trying to save it.

4. The Silent Knowing Is Loud for a Reason
You ever feel something is off… even when everything looks perfect on paper? That job that sounds dreamy but makes you feel like a plastic plant in a fluorescent office? That friend who says “I love how honest you are” but flinches every time you actually are honest?

Yeah. That’s not “nothing.” That’s your knowing. And it’s sacred.

The Gita doesn’t just preach detachment from others’ drama—it gently insists we trust what aligns with our inner truth. Translation: You’re allowed to ghost the person who calls you “too sensitive” for reacting to their complete emotional negligence.

5. Trusting Your Gut Isn’t Reckless. Ignoring It Is.
Hollywood taught us to wait for the grand gesture. The rain-soaked confession. The “you were right all along” moment.
But real life? It gives you a whisper. A subtle pull. A pause that doesn’t quite sit right.
That’s the moment. That’s your Gita-glazed intuition saying, “Hey, babe? This isn’t it.”
Listen.

Because ignoring it doesn’t make you more chill, more forgiving, or more lovable. It just makes you someone who knew better—and still signed the lease with chaos.

Final Take?
Your intuition is not being dramatic. It’s being divine. Krishna knew it, your nervous system knows it, and deep down? So do you.

So next time your gut speaks up, don’t shush it. Thank it. Then make your exit, slow-mo style, with wind in your hair and peace in your chest—like the main character you always were.

And no, you don’t owe anyone an explanation.

Except maybe yourself.
And even then—only if you feel like it.