Sometimes the Goddess doesn’t burn through the world like Kali.
Sometimes She stands in a department store aisle,
wrapped in perfume advertisements and digital static,
and waits for you to notice Her.
Not as thunder.
Not as revelation.
But as something softer, stranger — a whisper behind the noise.
Jewel’s “Intuition” is one of those whispers.
On the surface, the song is playful. Satirical, even.
The clip flickers like a carousel of glossy advertisements — perfect smiles, airbrushed bodies, fashion poses framed like divine icons for a plastic age. It feels absurd, because it is.
But not cruelly absurd. Tenderly.
Like the Goddess giggling as She watches Her children try to become gods through retouched images.
There’s a sadness there, too — but it’s the kind of sadness that only someone who truly loves the world can feel.
And then, again and again, the refrain:
"Follow your heart. Your intuition."
This is not just catchy pop advice.
This is śakti speaking from within the chaos — not as a warrior or a priestess, but as a woman who sees through the whole game, and still sings.
She walks through an empire of illusion
— clickbait desire, plastic sex, quick-fix wisdom —
and doesn’t try to destroy it.
She simply leaves a trail of breadcrumbs for anyone brave enough to follow.
This isn’t the Devi of ascetics.
It’s the Devi of broken girls and tired boys, of those who have been sold a thousand false promises and still feel a whisper of something real inside them.
This song isn’t perfect.
But it’s honest. And honesty is sacred ground.
Let’s listen — line by line —
to what She is really saying,
beneath the glitter,
behind the ad,
beneath the beat.
Verse 1
I'm just a simple girl
In a high-tech digital world
She opens without pretension — no divine thunder, no spiritual authority.
Just a “simple girl.” But listen closely: this simplicity is Her veil, Her leela.
In the age of artificial intelligence, filtered beauty, and algorithmic craving, She speaks from within it — not rejecting the world, but inhabiting it fully without being owned by it.
It is the Kali Yuga voice of Lalitā — gentle, unthreatening, but subversive.
She walks where others flee.
Really try to understand
All the powers that rule this land
The “powers” here are not divine — they are media, politics, fame, money, image.
The false gods of our time.
She speaks as one who’s tried to understand them — not with condemnation, but with curiosity.
A Bhairavi who’s wandered through the boardrooms of illusion and found them hollow.
This is not rebellion for rebellion’s sake.
It is clarity — sacred, compassionate clarity.
They say Ms. J's big butt is boss
Kate Moss can't find a job
Two icons. One now worshipped, one discarded.
What’s in fashion is truth — until it’s not.
This is Durga laughing at the absurdity of cultural dogma.
What was once divine becomes disposable. Beauty is just another trend to be voted up or down.
But She’s not angry — just deeply aware.
In a world of post-modern fad
What was good now is bad
This line cuts quietly but deeply.
We no longer have a stable compass. Not even morality is anchored — it floats on waves of hashtags, opinion columns, and shifting aesthetics.
What is left, then?
Not ideology.
Not analysis.
Not external authority.
Only the heart.
Only the living knowing that cannot be faked.
And so, with a smile, She leans in — and offers you a lifeline.
Pre-Chorus
It's not hard to understand
Just follow this simple plan
Here the Goddess becomes teacher — but not in robes.
She offers a “simple plan.” And simplicity, in a world that monetizes confusion, is radical.
Not because it’s dumb.
But because truth really is simple — once the false is burned away.
Chorus
Follow your heart
Your intuition
It will lead you in the right direction
Let go of your mind
Your intuition
It's easy to find
Just follow your heart, baby
This is the mantra of the Devi in disguise.
It echoes Ramana’s Self-inquiry, Abhinavagupta’s recognition, Lalla’s naked song. But here, it’s sung over a pop beat — because even that is Hers.
The call to follow intuition is not sentimental.
It is a command to come home — to stop outsourcing truth.
To stop following celebrities, influencers, and synthetic gurus.
To stop calculating and comparing.
To feel.
Not naively, but with the ancient wisdom that lives in the chest of every human being, quietly waiting beneath all noise.
Verse 2
You look at me, but you're not quite sure
Am I it or could you get more?
Here She becomes mirror — reflecting the modern mind’s constant hunger.
The gaze She’s speaking to isn’t personal. It’s the gaze of a world trained by swipes and scrolls, algorithms and endless options.
You don’t see Her.
You see a possibility of acquisition.
She knows this.
And still, She’s not offended.
The Devi does not need to be chosen.
She is.
But She plays this game, too — because She knows what’s underneath it.
You learn cool from magazines
You learned love from Charlie Sheen
Two devastating lines.
They’re funny — but if you pause, they’re tragic.
You learned “cool” — your sense of belonging — from curated gloss.
You learned “love” — your deepest emotional compass — from sitcoms and tabloids.
She’s not judging you for it.
She’s mourning how far the soul has strayed from its own flame.
But She’s also not sentimental.
She names it with precision — because Devi’s compassion includes calling out the lie.
This is Kālī with a smile — Her tongue still out, Her eyes still wild, but Her voice wrapped in pop melody.
Pre-Chorus (Refrain)
If you want me, let me know
I promise I won't say no
This is a sacred line.
It isn’t seduction — it’s invitation.
She’s not playing games.
She’s not dangling bait.
She’s saying: If you’re sincere… if you really want Me — not the image, not the fantasy — then come. I will not reject you.
No worthiness test. No initiations required.
Just honesty.
This is the Goddess of the inner altar. The one who has waited lifetimes.
And She’s telling you: I’m still here. The door has never closed.
Bridge
You've got somethin' that you're wantin' to sell
Sell your sin, just cash in
Now She drops the veil — the sweetness gives way to a deeper truth.
The world has become a market of confessions,
where vulnerability is currency,
and even your shame is monetizable.
You’re encouraged to exploit your wounds,
not to heal them — but to brand them.
The culture whispers, “Turn your pain into content.”
She sees it. She names it.
And She weeps — not out of weakness, but out of love.
You've got somethin' that you're wantin' to tell
You'll love me, wait and see
This line is devastating in its tenderness.
It can be read as irony — but if you hear closely, it’s not mockery.
It’s Devi’s ache — You will love Me… eventually.
After the addictions. After the illusions.
After you’ve sold everything else and still feel hollow.
She waits. She always has.
This is not the voice of a woman begging to be loved.
This is the voice of the Divine Mother,
who knows exactly what Her children are doing
and says: “I’m still here.”
Pre-Chorus (again)
If you want me, don't play games
I promise it won't be in vain (Uh, uh, uh)
No more irony.
No more posing.
If you want Her, come honestly.
This is the turning point.
She isn’t asking for ritual or asceticism. She’s asking for sincerity.
Stop performing. Stop pretending.
Come as you are.
“It won’t be in vain.”
This is a vow.
Not from a human. From Her.
Final Chorus (Repeated like a Mantra)
Follow your heart
Your intuition
It will lead you in the right direction
Let go of your mind
Your intuition
It's easy to find
Just follow your heart, baby
Over and over.
This is where the song stops being a “song” and becomes Ajapa Japa — a breathless mantra.
She is hammering it into your nervous system, through sweetness and rhythm:
Let go of the false compass.
Come back to the inner shrine.
Follow the voice that never sold itself.
And it’s not abstract.
The “intuition” She speaks of is not vague spirituality.
It is bodily, grounded knowing.
It is the shakti that moves before thought — the same force that led sages into the forest, mothers into childbirth, and lovers into surrender.
It is Her.
In you.
Outro
Follow your heart
Your intuition
It will lead you in the right direction
She leaves you with the simplest truth:
You don’t need to become anything.
You don’t need to be smarter, purer, richer, more spiritual.
You only need to remember what you already know.
She’s not waiting in a temple.
She’s already inside your longing.
She Never Left
You may walk away from this song and forget the lyrics.
The melody may fade.
But some part of it will remain —
not as a memory,
but as a pressure in the chest.
A tug.
A softness.
That’s Her.
Not the woman in the video.
Not the singer.
Not the pop star.
The One behind the voice.
She sang through a smile.
She hid in a music video.
She laughed at the absurdity of billboards and branding,
and still whispered to you like a mother saying:
“Come home. I’m still here.”
This is how She walks in the Kali Yuga.
Not as thunder.
But as a gentle current beneath the digital tide.
She doesn’t tear down the illusions.
She sings through them.
Because She knows —
if even one soul hears Her call,
one heart dares to follow intuition over image,
one person dares to feel instead of perform —
then the whole game begins to unravel.
You don’t need to change your life overnight.
You don’t need to become perfect.
Just take one step inward.
Follow that quiet pull — not the voice that shouts, but the one that waits.
That’s Her.
And She’s been calling your name
long before you knew
how to listen.
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