I’m 62 years old. I’m still figuring myself out.
Carl Jung and Abraham Maslow have given me a means of understanding things about me in a non-spiritual viewpoint.
There was a time when I confused intuition with God telling me things.
Carl Jung defines intuition as the complex integration of large amounts of information.
When I thought it was God telling me, I thought it meant that I therefore had to do something about it. Sort of like Joan of Arc.
But then I became a mere bus driver. In a way I ran away from my deep faith, to go shallow. I feared getting close to God, because I went crazy. Weirdness.
It’s strange to remember that now, after so long.
It was after having been a bus driver for 4-5 years that I had my first experience of intuition that could so definitely NOT be God telling me.
I saw a passenger, at night, just outside of a casino, standing alone. I knew that he did not have a bus fare, and that he would be telling me a story (a lie) in lieu of us bus fare. I didn’t know why I knew, I didn’t even question that I knew I just knew that I knew like you know what colour shirt you have on and whether or not you have socks on and your shoes.
He was about two or three blocks away when I made this determination, and being quite bored on a night shift, in the middle of a boring week, I’m very comfortable in my job, I pulled up open the door and the first thing I said to him is he made his way up the steps was “ you know when I was little my mother used to read me bedtime stories, and it’s been such a long time. I’m really looking forward to your story.“
He looked at me, stunned, or maybe that’s cruel. Maybe he was just a little distracted by my very coming out of left field remark.
I think he said something like “what?” I said, “never mind,” and he then went into his story.
“…my friend, took my wallet and then drove away and there I found myself here needing to get home and I saw your bus and so…”
I carried on the same game for the rest of my career. I always knew who was going to tell me a story long before and I actually had a name for it. I called it “guess the fare”
Fast-forward maybe 10 years, I was driving a bus late at night, this time in Richmond that first time it was in New Westminster. A young man got on my bus and he was the only one I had the light switched off so the back of the bus was completely dark. Outside was pitch black. He said to me he didn’t wanna go sit in the back and would it be OK if he sat up at the front and talk to me, and I said I’d love to have him do so, and that we could play, “Guess The Fare”.
Of course he wanted to know what that was, so I told him. As we approached bus stops, I would tell him if the fellow or Lady or whoever had bus fare a bus pass or a story. Biting at the bait, he said “a story?“ And I said yes, you know a lie about why he doesn’t have a fare.”
We drove along for about 20 minutes and as I was turning from off of No. 3 Road onto Cambie Road, and I rounded the corner, I looked up ahead at a crowd of about 10 or 15 people and in the crowd I spotted him. I said there is there’s a guy. “What guy?“
“The guy with the story“
As the passengers got on the guy with the story, went past Fast with an expired bus pass. (Say that quickly that’s how I say it)
I assisted the guy oh hey you we’ve been waiting for you hey hey you!
The fella turned around and came back and I said, “we’ve been waiting for you, what you got there?”
The fellow immediately went into his story about his friend that had his wallet, etc., etc. my observing friend began to laugh, and you could tell that he was truly amazed. But I wasn’t finished, I continued, “and also you’re going to the dance at Cambie school down the road here.”
With fear in his eyes, the young man agreed that yes indeed that’s where he was going, I really had him wondering, how the heck I knew that! But hey, Steven, I wasn’t finished yet, I told him that he got drunk at home, and that it was probably Zambuca or southern comfort.
“Southern Comfort” the young man said wearily!
My little Bus Passenger friend stopped laughing and was just staring in amazement.
It wasn’t until quite a few years later that I came across an online article with Carl Jung’s definition of intuition.
Running Down Vimy 