Is This Practice Challenge Rigged?So, who's behind this 30-day animal communication training program anyway? I know someone is pulling the strings, because each day I am presented with a different issue or scenario or dilemma or species, like we are making our way through a syllabus and preparing for an entrance exam. So far, there was the cat who taught me about playing through life and who brought a message from a missing cat. There was the big-talking house cat who adventured outdoors through his mind, dreamworld, and stories. Fiona the apple tree — no need for additional descriptors! The dog who brought me a request for help as well as ethical and social dilemmas. Then Alice the pig came along with some health issues. Mo, the light-hearted alpaca checked in. A long-overdue connection with my dog from across the rainbow bridge brought some closure. Then a spider! What would Day 10 bring? I began again with Solfeggio 639 Hz: Activate The Power Of The Heart and ran it until I felt calm and more focused. I closed my eyes and did a short grounding exercise. I typically start the day in the living room and I am the first in our house to rise. Gingersnap, our dog, gets up with me, and after her meal she goes upstairs to nap outside of our daughter's room until she wakes and opens her door. Then Gingersnap comes back down to say hi to me again and rests near me. After grounding, a thought flashed in my head of what would happen if I were in the middle of meditating or conversing with an animal and Ginger came down. Wouldn't it break my concentration or disrupt the flow? But a moment later I knew the reason she popped in my head wasn't because of that concern, but because she wanted to talk! Kind of. A Conversation Closer to Home. The vision I got was of her with a droopy face and slumped head, like she was sad or maybe even ashamed about something. She kept glancing up at me with sad eyes like she did something wrong. "Is that really you, Gingersnap?" Very small "yes." "Why are you so sad?" Mournful look. I asked — but already knew — if it was because she felt left out of my recent animal communications. I haven't yet connected with her, as doing so with your own animal is often the trickiest kind of communication because you are so close to the relationship. In my mind, I made sure it was clear I was giving her my undivided attention. I mentally sat in front of her, looked her in the eyes, and assured her I am listening. She started out slowly with, "You talk to everyone else but not me…" But when I mentally gave her that undivided attention, she started talking very quickly, letting it all out like a little kid who is tearily recounting his bad day to his mom. "I thought I was special…you don't even know these other animals…when is our special time together…I have things to tell you…I'm special…" I mentally hugged and comforted her. "Ginger, I'm talking with all these other animals specifically so I can then be able to talk to you! You are my main reason for learning this. I want more than anything to be able to hear what you want to say to me, to be able to talk to you from anywhere." She looked a bit more perky. "Why do you feel so insecure after all this time? We all (in our family) couldn't show you how much we love you any more than we already do!" I got a visual of her as a 2-month-old puppy the day she joined our family. We were looking down a flight of stairs to an enclosed area where she and her litter mates were. All the other puppies were frolicking and interacting. She was the only one who just sat there on her own looking up at us. "That's yours," pointed out the person who we were getting our new family member from. I didn't get a verbal explanation or any actual words from Ginger explaining what she was feeling at that moment. I just knew. I had an instant understanding, perhaps soul-to-soul, that she was petrified. She was scared that no one would want her. So she just remained perfectly still in that state, not wanting to make a wrong move, holding her breath to see what would happen next. While all the other puppies were playing with not a care in the world, she felt unworthy. And during her first many months (and beyond) with us, she tested our love for her through some very trying times. She pushed the boundaries with constant barking when out of our sight, ongoing nipping that no training seemed to be able to correct, and going to the bathroom in the house despite our taking all the recommended steps to guide her in the right direction. "Ginger, we passed your test. We exceeded your expectations. We loved you then and that love has deepened over the years. Why are you still insecure over this?" I got a sheepish expression from her and understood that she wasn't quite sure why she feels this way, but that it is her path. Her soul planned this as something to overcome in this lifetime. "Do you know what we can do to help you?" I asked. And she answered, "I just want to know I will always have a connection to you. That I will always be special to you." "There's nothing that could happen in this life or others that could ever change that! You are so special, so beloved to us," I assured her. "When you leave the house without me, maybe you'll meet another dog more special. Maybe you'll want to spend time with that one. If I leave this life, maybe you'll forget me or I won't be as special anymore." Hmmm. This runs deep. I thought about what I could say that would break through this real, but faulty, line of thinking. So many people and animals seem to be guided by it. So I said, "Imagine a golden rope or leash that can't be broken. Once it's attached, it's permanent, able to withstand time, extend through dimensions, stay glimmering and bright no matter what happens. When we connected us with you when you were a puppy, we used this golden leash. We wanted you to know our intentions, that we will love you forever and ever no matter what. Nothing can break that commitment or bond! "Animal communication, with others and especially you, doesn't weaken it. It simply strengthens it. It gives us more opportunity to share our lives together, to understand each other better, and to make our 'forever' relationship the best it can be." At this point, I realized that this conversation was a bit different than others I've had this month, in that I was doing more of the taking than the animal. But from Ginger's point of view, the communication was perfect. It's important to remember there are two sides of the conversation. It's not only about the other one talking, explaining, giving advice, and answering questions. Sometimes it's about communicating your side if that is what the other "person" is looking for. In this case, she was. I also noticed that during this conversation, Ginger — in real life — came down to say hi on schedule and her mannerisms and energy didn't reflect any of this internal conversation or these self-esteem issues. It must have just been on a deeper level. I visualized one last time our family unit, including Ginger, all connected with this unbreakable golden cord — a special bond for all time and eternity and throughout all lifetimes no matter what. The mental visual I got back was priceless: Ginger smiling, wearing heart-shaped sunglasses. I understood it to mean that she could finally relax and bask in our love; to see with her own eyes the love we have for her. As I write this, she is just feet from me, snoring loudly and deeply and peacefully.
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