The Raven: Trust What You Know Before You Can Prove It
Intuition, discernment, and learning to listen when something inside you says, “Pay attention.”
I can’t tell you how many times in my life I’ve known something before I actually knew it. You know that feeling. There’s nothing you can point to. No proof. No smoking gun. You can’t even necessarily explain it to someone else without sounding a little crazy. There’s just something deep in your gut saying, pay attention.
And then, because we’re reasonable adults, we immediately start trying to talk ourselves out of it. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’m being dramatic. Maybe I’m reading too much into this. Maybe it’s just anxiety. We come up with a hundred reasons why we shouldn’t trust ourselves.
Then six months later you’re standing there thinking, I fucking knew it.
That’s what I think about when I think about the raven.
The Raven Has Never Been Just a Dark Bird
Ravens have gotten a bad reputation. We see a big black bird and immediately think death, darkness, bad omens, Edgar Allan Poe and creepy things happening in the woods. And sure, ravens have been connected to death and mystery in stories and traditions for a very long time. But that’s only a tiny piece of what makes them so fascinating.
The raven has also represented intelligence, transformation, memory, mystery and wisdom. And the real animal lives up to some of that symbolism. Ravens are ridiculously smart. They solve problems, remember things, learn from experience and pay attention to what’s happening around them.
I love that.
The raven isn’t blindly flying through the world.
It’s watching.
And I think there’s something in that for us.
There Is a Difference Between Fear and Intuition
This is where it gets tricky, because fear can sound a lot like intuition when you’re standing in the middle of it.
I’m still learning the difference myself.
For me, fear tends to be loud. Fear wants an answer right now. It runs through every possible disaster and then circles back around to make sure I didn’t miss one. Fear can turn one unanswered text message into an entire Netflix limited series in my head.
Intuition feels different.
It’s quieter.
It doesn’t usually give me a fifteen-page explanation. It’s more like a little nudge. Something isn’t right. Pay attention. Don’t go that way. Ask another question. Wait.
Sometimes it’s so subtle that I ignore it.
I’ve learned that doesn’t make it go away.
How Many Times Have We Talked Ourselves Out of What We Already Knew?
I think women especially get very good at this.
We’re taught to give people another chance. Don’t judge too quickly. Be understanding. Be nice. Don’t be difficult. Don’t make a scene. Don’t assume the worst.
Those can all be good qualities. I want to be compassionate. I want to give people grace. I don’t want to walk through life assuming everyone has bad intentions.
But grace doesn’t require blindness.
You can be kind and still pay attention.
You can forgive someone and still change their access to you.
You can love somebody and recognize that something isn’t healthy.
You can believe the best in people without ignoring what they’re actually showing you.
That’s discernment.
And I think I’ve confused discernment with judgment more times than I’d like to admit.
Sometimes God Whispers
I believe God speaks to us in more ways than we give Him credit for.
I’m not talking about every coincidence being a divine message or every bird landing in your yard being a sign that you should quit your job and move to Costa Rica.
I’m talking about those quiet moments when something inside you keeps pulling in the same direction. A thought you can’t shake. A door that keeps closing. A person who keeps showing you exactly who they are. A path that looks perfect on paper but never feels right in your spirit. Or something that makes absolutely no sense on paper and yet brings an unexplained sense of peace.
I’ve learned to pay more attention to that. I don’t always understand it, and I certainly don’t always listen the first time, but I’m trying.
You Don’t Need to See the Whole Road
One of the hardest things for me is wanting to know how everything is going to turn out before I’m willing to trust the next step.
I’d like God to send an itinerary, preferably with dates. Maybe a confirmation number. A few guarantees would be nice too.
Apparently that’s not how this works.
Sometimes all you get is enough light for the next step, and maybe that’s enough. You don’t need to see the entire road to recognize when something is pointing you in the wrong direction. You don’t need every answer before you’re allowed to change course, and you don’t need a jury’s worth of evidence to acknowledge that something doesn’t feel right.
Sometimes wisdom is simply paying attention sooner.
The Raven and the Unknown
There’s something about the raven that belongs in the places we can’t completely explain: the unknown, the in-between, the parts of life where there isn’t a neat answer yet.
I used to think uncertainty meant I was doing something wrong. If I were on the right path, surely everything would make sense.
Life has taught me otherwise.
Sometimes you can be exactly where you’re supposed to be and still have absolutely no idea what’s happening. Maybe faith isn’t always getting an answer. Maybe sometimes faith is learning to walk without one.
That’s uncomfortable as hell for someone who likes to know what’s coming next, but I’m learning.
Trust Yourself Again
Maybe that’s the part of raven symbolism that speaks to me most: trust.
Not blindly trusting every thought that crosses your mind. Not assuming your first impression is always correct. Not turning intuition into an excuse to avoid anything uncomfortable.
I’m talking about rebuilding trust with yourself. Paying attention to patterns, asking questions, listening, praying, and waiting long enough for the noise to settle so you can hear what’s underneath it.
There have been times in my life when I handed my own knowing over to everybody else. I assumed someone else must know better because they had a title, more experience, more confidence or a louder voice.
Sometimes they did know better.
Sometimes they didn’t.
I’m learning that wisdom isn’t about assuming I’m always right. It’s about no longer automatically assuming I’m wrong.
There’s a huge difference.
Pay Attention
So if the raven crosses your path, I don’t think you need to panic or start looking for some dramatic prediction about what’s coming. Maybe just let it remind you to pay attention to what keeps repeating, what brings peace, what drains you, the doors that keep closing, and the ones you can’t stop thinking about.
Pay attention when your gut whispers before your brain has gathered all the evidence. Then pray about it. Sit with it. Ask questions. Use your head. Give yourself enough time to separate fear from intuition, and trust that you don’t need to understand everything immediately.
Maybe wisdom isn’t always knowing the answer. Maybe sometimes it’s finally trusting yourself enough to listen when something inside you says, pay attention.
You don’t need to see the whole road to know when something is pointing you in the wrong direction, and you don’t need proof of every single thing you feel before you’re allowed to honor it. Stay curious, stay discerning, stay open, and when that quiet voice keeps whispering, maybe don’t be so quick to talk yourself out of hearing it.
Guided by something higher. Built through something harder.
— Lara