If etymology online is an accurate resource:
intuition
late 15c., from M.Fr. intuition, from L.L. intuitionem (nom. intuitio) "a looking at, consideration," from L. intuitus, pp. of intueri "look at, consider," from in- "at, on" + tueri "to look at, watch over" .
Again, google search defintion:
in·tu·i·tion/ˌint(y)o͞oˈiSHən/Noun
1. The ability to understand something immediately, without the need for conscious reasoning.
2. A thing that one knows or considers likely from instinctive feeling rather than conscious reasoning.
I am unclear on this "let go of intuition" (and again, I may have none of what you describe). In the disappearance of Bruno thread, Trent writes,
RE: The disappearance of "Bruno" (practice thread)
4/6/11 11:33 AM as a reply to Bruno Loff.
"isn’t it neat that pure intent enables one’s innate ability to figure out one’s own self when provided even the slightest of hint (intended or otherwise)? "
(Bold font for emphasis).
How is innate (in·nate/iˈnāt/Adjective, Inborn; natural) not intuition?
Per the Vineeto reference to her not being raped or hassled (link is upthread), she is using forethought about a potential future situation (unless she is changing her attire and mannerism at the exact moment she encounters rapers and hasslers) - eventually, that forethought becomes habit, innate action. Is it intuition or innate ability that I do not walk down certain streets and alleys alone, drunk?
For some reason last fall, I returned to one of my silk worms (by then a moth) her cocoon. She appeared dead or long gone into unconsciousness. (Days before she had reached out a foreleg when I got down and looked at her eyes (for the dullness of senescence) - until that movement, she had not moved for about seven days (her mates were dead and her eggs laid). In response, I put my pinky down to her and she walked into my hand. I cupped my hands around her and blew air from my nose (warm, but not moist like mouth air) - her wings buzzed (we did this for a while: breathe-buzz/breathe-buzz/breathe-buzz; maybe she was cold, just naturally invigorated by airflow). I eventually had to transfer her to a spoon of silk. Two days of sitting motionless on the spool with cloudy eyes, she seemed quite dead. Then I recalled her cocoon and placed it near where she dangled from the spool by a leg.) The next morning after putting the cocoon above where she dangled I saw no moth or cocoon. About a foot away I found broken, disembodied wings on my desk, and a little further, the cocoon, inside of which she had placed herself. Was it intuition to return to a dying being its own self-made shelter? Was it innate ability? Was it affective concern and my personal appreciation for hospice? I was certainly glad to be of some use to a dying being. Clearly, after so much immobility, it developed an interest in mobility enough to return to the interior of its cocoon.