I wanted to try and connect with Darian the snake, but had some trouble. Actually, it seemed, a lot of trouble! I began by trying to feeling his energy, but couldn't quite get there. All I felt was a slight nausea and a strange uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Trying to be as receptive as possible, I tried again, hoping I would distinctly feel something different or even magical. But still nothing. The nausea persisted. I tried some energy clearing, where I brought light in through earth and flowed in throughout my body, then sent the equivalent of Reiki to Darian, trying to create a bridge of communication. Briefly in my mind I saw Darian look at me and flick his tongue over and over, seemingly trying to decipher the situation. But I was unsure of this visual, as well and it still didn't seem like things were connecting. So I finally just asked Darian, "Am I connecting with you?" He answered, "Yes, you are." But there seemed like a lot of noise and chaos in my mind, so it was difficult to know what was real. "Why am I having so much trouble connecting with you," I asked him. "We are on different frequencies," he explained. "The shift into this state — mine — is a significant difference." "But I've done this before with other species and elements and didn't seem to have this much resistance," I offered. "There is a lot that goes into a connection beyond frequency. State-of-mind, health, focus, even what you ate that day," he said. I paused at this last item, wondering if it was true, hesitating to write it down in case it was something my mind was bringing me instead of coming from Darian. "It's coming from me," confirmed Darian. "Okay, but I haven't eaten anything yet today to even disrupt anything," I told him. "But I have," he replied. I got the visual of a mouse or small rodent, already dead and looking kind of wet. "But why the feeling of nausea?" I wondered. "Digestion is serious business for snakes," he said. "It takes a lot of energy. Processing, integrating nutrition filtering…" I really wanted to change the subject, but knew this was probably a big part of who he is and I wanted to honor that part of him. So I said, "Interesting." To which he answered with a little amusement, "I know it's not, for you. We can move on." Whew. I took the offered detour gratefully. "How do you like your life?" I asked. I felt he was pretty satisfied and comfortable in his routine and surroundings. Sort of like that feeling of arriving home after being away for a while. Familiar. This made me wonder about his original habitat out in the wild. Wouldn't he miss that? Long for it? And consequently, hate living confined like he does now? I got the feeling he was born in captivity, so didn't know a different life. "It still feels alien, if you want my opinion," he inserted into my thoughts. "Your surroundings, you mean?" I tried to clarify. "Yes, my surroundings, this life inside, with humans," he explained. "I may have been born to this life, but cellularly, at my core being, this doesn't feel right. It's too sterile, too structured, too predictable." As I listened, I could feel the difference he was describing between domestic and wild. One is very constricting and one feels like your spirit is free. Despite this feeling, it was also clear that all that was at a deeper level. So let's say he was suddenly set free in the wild, he would also feel somewhat out of place, not having grown up there. I also feel there is a comfort he has with his humans. It doesn't feel like a warm and fuzzy love (like a dog would feel). It's like he knows he's his own species and his world is separate from the human world. But he is coexisting while keeping those natural boundaries. "What do you like to do?" I asked. He shows me exploring inside the house. He loves the textures, going from smooth to fuzzy to hard and soft. When I picture him encountering more natural things outside, his senses seem to spike. Again, that feeling of coming home. He seems to enjoy warmth, like from the sun, but not too much, like a desert snake would like. The conversation flowsThe longer I connect with him, the easier the flow of information. I think it's because my mind slowly released its grip on my own reality, allowing me to immerse myself in the connection and Darian's world. The nausea had subsided as well. "Darian, are there other animals at home?" "Apparently, there are mice," he said deductively. I could see his thought process around that: "If I could only find out where they're all coming from; go to their source…" I also see a cat or something similar that is black and white and passed that feeling over to Darian for confirmation, to which he replied, "We are kept apart." "Is there anything else you want to tell me?" I asked. "I quite enjoyed this talking in this way and would be open to more." I think he found it interesting, kind of like its own adventure. "Oh, I'm glad to hear that. Your family thought you might appreciate it when they put you on this site for people to practice communicating with animals. I'm sure you will connect with many more people," I assured him. "Cracking," he replied in a very British way, though I'm not sure why. But he was clearly pleased. Again, I felt he has a very good nature and disposition. Not warm and fuzzy, but genial and open. "Very nice getting to know you, Darian," I said. "Likewise," he responded. "Good luck with your other conversations!" I wished him. "Yes, there's those…" he said thoughtfully, contemplating the possibilities and anticipating something that felt pleasant to him. I left him with that positive feeling. Feedback from his people:It’s heartwarming to hear his thoughts expressed so deeply and eloquently; like he’s a wise immortal being. When talking of food, I did feed him last week! Only 1 small frozen thawed rat. Usually it’s 2, but I recently upgraded his house to a MUCH larger enclosure. And I wasn’t sure if he was stressed out and would refuse food. When you said this...“(I felt he was pretty satisfied and comfortable in his routine and surroundings. Sort of like that feeling of arriving home after being away for a while. Familiar).” At first his new house was barren and more spacious. Me thinking maybe he’d like more room to stretch out. Soon I could tell he was uncomfortable when he started hiding himself under the substrate. So I bought him lots of fake plants, ‘rock’ bridges, and a cave. So I think he’s much happier being less exposed. When I take him out, i usually just let him explore my bed. Equipped with fuzzy blankets, soft blankets, smooth wooden bed frame. I sometimes bring him to the windowsill to soak up the rays of the sun. He seems to enjoy it. We have lots of dogs. I introduced some of them to him. They were intrigued but kept they’re distance. They’d move away if his face got too close to them. The black and white cat-like animal was probably Mocha, our black/blonde chihuahua. I know I didn’t touch on everything that was said, i confirmed what i know. I don’t know where he would get “Cracking” from haha. Maybe when i used to watch British cooking shows in my bed, and he’d be there with me. Thank you so much, this was truly inspiring. Every paragraph, every sentence was a magical experience for me.
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Most days, I sit in a room at home with quite a few plants. The room has lots of light and so the plants seem to love it and are thriving. I wanted to see if I could connect with the plant energy in this room since we spend so much time together. I asked to feel their energy. Nothing. I asked to connect with the plants in the room. Nothing. I asked for help making the connection. Nothing. I was trying to stay in a receptive mode and thought maybe I would sense a distinct energy, different from… what feels normal to me. Nothing seemed to be happening. Then, as I pictured in my head where the different plants were in the room, I saw a fairy burst out of the top of each plant, fly over to me, and pour a green "bucket of energy" over me. Honestly, I don't know if that was simply in my imagination, as the fairies, each looking a bit different, were a little animation-y. I think my mind partly rejected their realism, too. But I went with it to see what would happen next. Breathing roomI got a sense of breathing in the room. And it wasn't my dog, snoozing loudly nearby. It was a bigger, softer kind of breathing, as if the room were a unified element, full of life. At this level of consciousness or focus, it felt cleaner, more pristine. It really did feel like I was tapping into a space in between the one I know and live in and another. "Am I connected to plant energy in this room?" I asked. "You are. You always are, in some way," was the response. "How come I couldn't feel you at first?" I wondered. "We are not a new sensation. You are among us every day, feeling the energy. And so it feels normal." This made sense. "And now you have entered a different space. In between, as you say," plant explained. I focused again on the energy of the space. When I said it felt cleaner, I don't mean just cleaner to breathe. The space was stripped away of all the extraneous sounds and goings-on. It felt peaceful, quiet, pristine. Appreciation for the spectrum of life"Do you have any messages for me?" I asked, not really knowing where to begin. "We appreciate you," said the plant energy. It sounded like all the plants talking in unison, like a call and response at church. I was skeptical. Why would plants appreciate a human? It was probably my ego bringing in that praise. "You brought us here," they explained. "You give us nourishment and water. You tend to our habitat. We appreciate it. You can let your ego rest. It is true, without you we would not be here, in this room. But we would be elsewhere. In another form, in another place, in another iteration. Energy is energy and goes where it wants." "Are you here for a purpose?" I asked. "In this room? We simply do what we do," said plant. "You mean clean the air?" I asked, referring to my understanding of their ability to take in carbon dioxide and transform it into oxygen. "That is a byproduct of what we do, not our only purpose." said plant. "Our purpose is to be a part of life in all its variety. To express who we are in our own special way. To add to the colors, diversity, richness, and splendor of this world. Imagine if we all worked together at that?" There was no animosity in that comment, though I thought I understood the message to be that many on this planet work beautiful together, in harmony, while others are like a bull in a china shop, requiring everyone else to fix what they've messed up. "You're preaching to the choir," I said. "We're not preaching, but understand what you say," they answered. "If we were to teach — not preach — it would be simply to say, breathe," they continued. "Find that space in between, like you have today. It's quieter here. Find that peace and breathe the clean energy of it all. It doesn't have to take but a moment." "I like that advice. I appreciate it," I told them, making a mental note to use the sight of my house plants to help remind me to 'breathe' and go to a more peaceful state more often. "Thank you," I said. "Thank you," they said, calmly and evenly, as they had during the whole conversation. And we just left it like that, just "being" in the same space together, requiring nothing more. After gazing at Harith's picture, I closed my eyes to try and connect with him. I thought it was an incredible concept that someone who is on the other side of the world can simply intend to connect with someone, speak a name, or energetically reach out and out of all the other beings on Earth and beyond, you can connect with the one you want. But that's exactly what seemed to happen as I called "Harith," gently. He immediately got up with a start, as if he was supposed to be guarding something but had fallen asleep, and had now heard a noise which jarred him to full alert. He didn't seem afraid, just alert. He stretched and his body became very cartoony, so that it looked like it was bigger and stretchier than it probably was, and very thin. I greeted him, "Hi Harith." He looked right at me with a sweet face, very gentle and a little shyly, like a part of him felt he didn't deserve to be talking with me. I introduced myself and explained about learning animal communication and his role, if he agrees to it. He gave a sheepish nod yes. Sights and sounds"Harith, can you show me where you live?" I asked. "Show me what you see through your eyes," I clarified. I got flashes of light-colored buildings seen from a rooftop of at least several floors up. The air was a little smoggy in the distance. The city went on for a good distance in every direction, except on one side I saw a lot of greenery, almost like a forest or jungle or natural area. There seemed to be a few very large homes in the "jungle" area, as you could see them rising above the greenery. I got the feeling they were where some wealthy people live. I asked Harith, "What do you hear around you?" I had some trouble hearing what he was hearing. The first thing I heard were lots of vehicle horns and talking or shouting, like you might hear in a busy city. But then I wasn't so sure about what I was hearing, so asked Harith again to let me hear what he is hearing. At first it sounded like everything was muted like it was under water. Then it was peacefully quiet. I wondered if this could be true. So I cleared my head and started again. This time I again heard the bustling city sounds, even what sounded like a Muslim call-to-prayer over a loudspeaker. I wondered if I was just making all this up. Why did I hear all these sounds, yet also the silence? Maybe Harith had a way of tuning out the noise so that it's not so overwhelming? Or maybe he doesn't hear well? I thought I'd just ask him. "Harith, is your hearing okay?" "I can hear well enough," he answered. "When I need to." "But is it true that you also tune things out sometimes?" I inquired. "Sometimes. Maybe more than I realize. There's a lot of noise." I see him down on a narrow street with lots of people and vendors. It almost looks like a marketplace, with fruit stands, people walking and bicycling, very crowded. Harith's tail is down in a position of subservience as he makes his way through the crowds. It kind of feels like he doesn't have a high sense of esteem or worthiness. "Harith, if that is how you feel, I'm sorry," I tell him. "I can tell you are a sweet and gentle dog and there are people who love and cherish you for who you are. Your value in this world is great, as your type of energy helps smooth out the rest of the world's rough parts." He took this in without much reaction. Thinking about his self-esteem, I wondered if he had a job in this life. "To stay out of trouble," he replied. As I thought about this answer, I saw scenes of him in his life where he felt he was always in the way and to stay safe, he needed to learn to stay "under the radar" and avoid the shopkeeper who shoos him away, people who yell at him, or other animals who try to keep him away from their territory. It felt like a survival tactic to be able to stay unnoticed. "But aren't things different now?" I asked. "Don't you have a home with someone who loves you?" "Yes, but I have to be good to make sure I stay here," he explained. "I can understand why you would think that way if you went from a life on the streets to a loving home, but I'm pretty sure your person loves you more than anything. And there's nothing you can do that will change that. That's what love is all about! It allows you to make mistakes and be less than perfect and still be treasured for who you are." I wondered if Harith was able to let those truths in, so tried to feel what he was feeling about it all. It looked like there was a white barrier between the words and him, like he was keeping them from reaching him. But he was aware of it and it felt like he knew this is one of the things he has undertaken to overcome in this life: letting love in and feeling worthy of it. I wondered if he will achieve this in his lifetime and felt he would make a lot of headway. It was my hope he would succeed completely and I think I was willing that outcome to reveal itself, but it didn't. So I just make sure to be in receptive mode when asking again. That's when it felt like Harith is already able to put aside these feelings at times, like when he is feeling happy, focused on playfulness with his person, or simply feeling secure at home. I think those moments will become more plentiful as time goes on. Dog without a good job"Harith, do you have a job?" I asked again, thinking that having a proper one might help his self-esteem and give his mind something more positive to think about. He looked at me briefly and then up and to the side, as if he were checking with his person about whether he has a job or not. He seemed unsure. I didn't feel it was my place to give him a job or even suggest things, so I told him, "It feels good to have a mission and to be helpful. Would you like your person to help you figure out a good job for you?" He seemed curious about this, a little optimistic, but also looked up and to the side again, to his person who was "off-screen." "How about if I just pass along the request to your person and you guys can work something out?" I asked. He seemed hopeful. Unless there is an actual need to for protection, I would recommend a more positive job than to guard the house or look out for strangers, as I think that can make dogs more anxious, unfriendly, or hypervigilant. Better jobs would be things like being a friendly greeter or offering comfort or good cheer when sensing someone needs it. I usually don't read the questions a person has for their animal until after I talk freely with the animal a bit, to simply hear what they want to say. Sometimes having an agenda creates pressure to produce answers — and the mind can do this very well on its own, even if it's not based in truth. At this point, I decided to read the comments and saw that Harith has grown from a friendly puppy into an asocial aggressive dog. I wonder if any of the information I received supports this? As playful puppyness fades in adulthood, sometimes it leaves adult worries and responsibilities. Perhaps he is insecure about his place with you? In adopted human kids, many never get over the feeling of not deserving a secure home or feeling that they will be given up again, and so act out, create an emotional barrier, or sabotage the relationship. Maybe he just wants to make sure he has his person all to himself so no one takes him away? Or perhaps there is a health issue, like the hearing? If he can't use all his senses, he might be extra sensitive to things happening around him. He could even be reacting to his person's inner feelings or energy. For example, if the person is going through difficult transitions or personal strife. I wondered which part of this conversation was true. Had my mind created a story? I tried to feel into the exchange again and it kind of felt like the story was true, but some of it was a DNA story — part of an overall blueprint and state-of-mind that was imprinted in Harith. It was meant to guide his actions, inspire decisions, and lead him to the growth he wished to have in this life. That all sounded possible. And I wish it were as easy as asking to find out for sure. Animal communication, at least for me, is not a crystal clear form of communication. It never feels perfect or absolutely sure, but is instead surrounded by many other layers and possibilities, making it difficult to uncover the truth. For now, all I can do is record my experience and see if anything resonates with Harith's person. I said goodbye to Harith, gave him one last boost in confidence and esteem, and told him, "I know you can do this! You came here to overcome it and you will." When I felt the energy of this statement, I felt like it was mostly true. He would make good headway, though maybe not completely resolve these feelings in this lifetime. Time will tell. Feedback from his people:You got the visuals and the sounds down pat. It's exactly how he described it to you, with the Muslim prayer, large green area, building colour, rooftop ( he hangs out there a lot) and everything. Not sure I have seen him being subservient when walking through the shop alleys, since I've seen him pretty confidently going through with tail up. He did spend a couple of years with our adopted dog who was an old streetie and slightly bitter towards certain humans (not all). I think he may have taught Harith to keep his head down, be good, etc., since the older guy had a very hard time on the streets. I have been incidentally thinking since the past month or so that Harith needs a job, this has been my exact thought. I feel he wont reach his true potential unless he has something to do. I keep hearing feedback from other learners that self-doubt is their biggest challenge — as it is mine. Even after all the successful conversations I've had (and I had to fight not putting quotes around "successful conversations"), I still wonder where all this information is coming from. I thought I'd try to figure out if there was a way to resolve this issue or at least figure out a way to know for sure. I thought maybe Maddie the cat could help. So I dove right in and said, "Maddie, can you help me?" She looked confused and indecisive, like I had missed a step in this conversation — which I did. "Oh sorry, do you know who I am?" I asked. She looked me up and and down, still puzzled, before finally saying, "Well…I do…" She was leaving room for me to fill in the formalities of introducing myself properly. "Hi Maddie, I'm Josh. I'm sorry about that — I was a bit anxious to get talking," I apologized. "How about we start over?" "Yes, properly," she said. She was pretty grounded and simply observational in this whole exchange so far. "Hello Maddie, my name is Josh. I know you by your picture, which your mom made available for others to practice animal communication. Are you interested in talking with me today?" "Yes." Now that the confusion was past and the formalities out of the way, Maddie was simply amused at this whole conversation so far, as shown in her grin. She was pleased she was "making" me go through these steps and found it entertaining. A change in direction"Well, I was going to ask you if you could think of any way to help me know for sure that I am hearing you or other animals talk rather than just making it up. But I'm having second thoughts about it, because it feels like I'm too focused on this topic." "I can go either way." she replied. I thought about it and realized I'm too tired of the debate, so decided to leave it alone for now. However, at the same time, I could "see" our conversation play out as another path or choice that was untaken. Or rather, was taken, but not in my current reality. "How about we just talk about you for a while?" I suggested. "Yes, me. Good idea." she agreed thoughtfully. And that's exactly the kind of cat Maddie felt like — very pensive, often looking at things others do in bewilderment. Like, "Why are you doing that?" Not judgmental, just wonderment why someone would do such a silly thing. Maddie also feels very grounded, not subject to lots of drama or excitement. "What are some of your favorite things to do, Maddie" I asked. She showed me exploring (endlessly), snuggling, not so much into toys except when exploring what they are all about. When I tried to picture her exploring outside, I didn't get any visuals. So I wondered if perhaps she is an indoor cat? "Would you be interested in exploring outdoors," I asked her. I felt a strong curiosity from her about that. "Yes," she answered. "In moderation — it's a big world and somewhat overwhelming." "What about if you were on a leash with your person?" I wondered. Again, I got the look that said, "Why would I want to do something like that?" "Some cats do that," I answered her bewilderment. "Not willingly, I don't suppose," she stated. "No, probably not. But it is sometimes the only way they get to explore outdoors," I reasoned. Good vibrationsI continued in a different direction, "What else do you enjoy?" She showed me a gong and how she really enjoys the vibrations of things. "Not the sound part — that's too loud," she clarified. "The vibrations are soothing." "So, like a washing machine or dryer?" I asked. "Yes, without the noise part," she answered. "And what about riding in the car? That has vibrations," I suggested. "Yes, that can be enjoyable." Then added, "And interesting." "What else would you like to tell me about your life," I asked. She thought a moment and said, "Well, it's nothing much that you would understand. I'm a cat, you know, and you're not." "That's why I'm interested," I told her. "I want to know what your life is like." "Well, it's a lot of sleeping in this reality," she explained. "And a lot of exploring in others." "You're saying that during your many sleeping hours on earth, you go elsewhere?" I asked. "Yes. It's what cats do." Then she added, "It's what cats can do." She said this like, "Since we are able to do it, we do it." "But why would you come to live in this reality, but not spend much of your time here?" I wondered. "That's what makes living interesting," she answered. "Why should we settle for a one dimensional experience when we know we have doors to others? It's like staying in just one room of a big house and never opening the door to any of the other rooms to see what's there." Again, that sense of "Why would someone do something like that?" "Said that way, I agree," I told her. "Why would you want to limit yourself? Although, some people feel there is enough on this planet to explore without having to go elsewhere." "There's enough to explore, but it's all with the same senses and skillsets and consequences. The scenery changes, but the reality is the same," she explained. "Visiting other realities changes the rules, which completely changes the experiences." "Do you do that kind of exploring just for fun or for enrichment or some other reason?" I wondered. "Entertainment is a big reason. But we are also healing and healers; helpers and helpees; guides and visitors. We have the Full Park Pass — and we're going to use it." "If you can do all of that anytime, why would you choose to come back here at all?" I asked. "It feels different here," she answered. "It's less fluid, slower, and the emotions are more vibrant." "Then you are happy with your life here?" I asked. "Oh yes," she immediately assured me. "It's why I keep coming back. Nice vacation spot." She said that last part lightheartedly. No worries"Do you have any messages for your people?"
"Hakuna Matata. Isn't that what they say?" she said, knowing that she heard that somewhere, but not sure if it was the correct line. "All those worries waste too much energy. Slow down. Step back. See what's really happening. See what's really possible. You'd be amazed. It's not really what you were thinking it's all about. I'm here to model all of that for you, did you know? We worked it out a while back. I think it's all working out just fine. Hey, do you have any of those treats (I see something reddish)? That would hit the spot." "Maddie, thank you for spending some time with me today," I said. "It was interesting and I wish you happy travels." She just kind of looked at me like, "Why would you say something like that?" I didn't have a specific animal in mind to speak with today, so I asked if there were any animals who wanted to talk. Sara, a sweet donkey I know (but haven't seen in a while) poked her head in playfully. This was a little surprising, as I have not known her to have a playful personality, possible because she has health issues that cause her pain and discomfort. "Sara, is it true you want to talk today?" I asked. She brayed in my face with enthusiasm — again, unlike the personality I know. When I focused on her, I got a truer representation of our real-life relationship. She was still a bit wary and shy, but I could also see or sense a comfort with me and could feel her visibly relax a little when she saw it was me. "Hi Sara," I greeted her. "How are you doing these days?" I had heard she was struggling with her health. "I'm okay." She said this in what I can only describe as in a non-human way. Many people love telling you about their problems and let their pains come out in their demeanor or outlook or words. From Sara, it was just acceptance, like, "I'm here, I'm living, let's get on with it." "Did you want to tell me anything in particular?" I asked, since she specifically sought me out. I immediately felt her pause and step back a little at this question. It felt like she didn't want to be a bother to anyone and just realized that reaching out to me may have "crossed the line." At the same time, it also felt like she would appreciate telling me about some of her ailments and also just take comfort in talking with someone familiar. A little body scanning"Where are you hurting, Sara?" I inquired. I don't remember specifically where she had pain when I used to visit her. I focused on her body and various parts seemed to get "highlighted" as a way of pointing them out. The highlighted areas were her teeth on the left bottom and the top front, her left front leg and her right back leg. I felt a tightness and a throbbing in her teeth. It doesn't feel like it gets worse when eating, but just stays the same constant throbbing and achiness. Her vision seems a little blurry, like "old eyes." I ran my hand down her back and spine and the impression I got was that it was compressed and not as straight as it should be. It feels like this is because of the ways she needs to stand and hold her body to try avoiding pain from her limbs. I kept moving down to her back end and tail and didn't pick up anything there. When I moved to the back right leg to see if I could get more detail about why it was highlighted before, I felt there was a sharp pain running all the way down the leg to the hoof. On a person, I would compare it to sciatica pain, but I have no idea if that is something an animal has. When I got to the front right leg and did the same kind of check, the pain seemed to be emanating from the hoof part, so it wasn't the same kind of pain as in the back. Overall, it just feels like it's difficult to get her body to work and move the way it was intended, and so this struggle is what she deals with all the time. Choosing the right remedyI asked, "Sara, what would help you feel better?" I immediately got a visual of what looked like a logo. It was an illustration of a horse in motion and had replicas of that horse in motion stacked up behind it so that it looked like the horse was truly in motion. The colors were reds, oranges, yellows. I did an Internet search, but didn't come up with anything like that, so I don't know if it's a muscle ointment or performance supplement or what. So I went back to Sara and tried to be as receptive as possible when asking her again about what would help her. I saw flashes of sunshine, green grass, flat ground. None of that seemed especially helpful. It's winter now, so maybe she was just longing for summertime. I tried to offer Sara options to see how any of them felt to her. Massage? No. Chiropractic? No. (cringes at the pain). Acupuncture? No. Acupressure? A little helpful. Energy work? Yes! This felt warm and comforting to her, though I don't know that it is a long-term solution. I promised to keep sending her energy healing. When I envisioned doing it in that moment, I could see it blanket her body and what seemed to feel good to her was that the healing energy filled in the spaces in her body, making up for deficiencies and misalignments so that she could feel whole. Angel of the barnyardAt this point, I had to take a break from conversation to take care of some things. When I came back and tapped in again, Sara's energy was lighter and she gave an animated bray/smile.
"Are you feeling better from the energy work?" I asked, wondering what made the difference. The feeling I got back was, "yes" and also because someone was hearing her, spending time listening to her needs and looking out for her welfare. I knew that the person who runs the sanctuary where she lives gives her lots of attention and love and does everything possible to make her more comfortable. So I asked, "How is what I did different from what Stephanie does for you?" At the mention of Stephanie, Sara showed me a visual of her lovingly nuzzling her human guardian. It felt like she deeply appreciates her and what she does for her. She also amusingly showed me a scene from the barnyard, from her point of view. As she watched Stephanie do chores and move about the paddock, a glowing beam of sunshiny light enveloped her human guardian. It was like it was portraying how Sara saw Stephanie — this bright point in their lives on the farm. Like an angel, held in very high regard. "Sara, I'm going to say goodbye for now, but will keep sending energy healing to you," I told her. She nodded with a light expression and smile, feeling pretty good about what went down today. I hugged her, sent the feeling of peace, and said goodbye. "Hello Mr. Groundhog," I began while looking at his picture. "Hey, whoa, whoa! Let's not assume…" the groundhog immediately inserted. "Oh, sorry, it was kind of an expression. So you're…" "I'm a girl," she affirmed daintily, without a trace of hurt feelings. "Nice to meet you," I began again. She blinked and nodded slightly. It briefly crossed my mind that these are all human expressions that animal would never use and wondered why this kind of stuff happens in many communications. "We like to be relatable," answered the groundhog. "If we are more familiar to you, you are more comfortable and open to what we are saying." That makes sense, I thought. Then I wondered why humans don't do the same thing for other species — use animal characteristics to help them understand us. "You do," inserted the groundhog into my thought. "This stuff is all automatic; part of the translation system. You won't hear it happen on your end when you talk, but I can on mine." "Interesting!" Why is it that other species always seem so much wiser about the world than humans are? I thought to myself. "If you don't mind, it's a bit early for a philosophy class," said the groundhog. He didn't specifically say "philosophy class," but the meaning was similar, sort of like "all this philosophical stuff." "Ok, got it," I replied. "So, am I talking to just you as a groundhog, or you as a groundhog species?" I know that sometimes one animal can talk on behalf of a species or channel a group's communication. "It's just me," she said. "When you connected, you were very specific with your intention. You looked at me as an individual. If you wanted to connect to the group, you would have approached it that way." Invisible Energy"Is it okay that I am using your picture to help others practice communicating with animals?" I asked, referring to the fact that I was planning to post her picture for others to use. "Oooh, never done THAT before!" she said with interest. I took that enthusiasm as a "yes." I paused to gaze again at her picture and thought I'd try to feel her energy, as I often do when first trying to connect with other animals, mostly the domesticated ones. But I didn't feel anything! I tried again with the same results. Instead of a sense of her personality, I got a sense of utilitarianism. It felt like she is very role-based. She has a job — to be a groundhog. And that requires working on instinct and doing all the things that groundhogs do to live and survive. Does that mean there's no room for a personality I wondered? Are there no wild animals who are more caring than others or more playful or sensitive? The feeling I got was, of course there are. I was flashed a group of monkeys playing in the trees. But aside from personalities, their essence is strongly based in instinct and breed characteristics. I tried tapping into her energy again, and still nothing. And another curious thing kept happening: whenever I looked at her photo to try and "refresh my connection" and then closed my eyes again, her visual in my head would become invisible. Most of the time when I do something like that, the image will persist in my mind, at least for a while. With the groundhog, the image was there for half a second, then became invisible, where I could almost see an outline of the body, but nothing else. It wasn't like it faded away into nothing. I knew the essence was still there. This happened over and over until I wondered if perhaps this groundhog was no longer in physical form. Her photo came from a stock photo site, so I have no idea when it was taken. I got a "yes" from the groundhog when I pointed that question in her direction. Maybe that's another reason why I wasn't getting any sense of her energy? I turned my attention back to her as I thought this, in case she had an opinion. But the feeling I got was that, with this revelation, she was suddenly afraid I would think she was no longer good enough to be selected for this position of talking with people. "Of course you're worthy enough," I assured her. "I wasn't drawn to you because of anything but who you are, in whatever form that takes." She seemed relieved and quickly brushed away those former feelings of insecurity. Life Underground, but Above it AllChanging the subject, I asked, "What was it like being a groundhog?" I got an immediate feeling that equalled something like, "This is SO great being who I am. I love my life!" There was a deep satisfaction in being this animal in that body within that species. Things as mundane as digging tunnels, looking for food, watching for predators, interacting with other groundhogs, were all wonderfully fulfilling, day after day. She fully embraced who she was and was thrilled with every part of it. "Can you show me what it's like to be a groundhog?" I asked. I got a visual from behind a groundhog at the mouth of a hole in the ground. I guess it was her. She started digging and I heard, "Close your mouth." It didn't register with me at first. I guess I wasn't sure if I was hearing it or if it was directed at me. It kind of sounded like it was just something I was hearing in the background, like overhearing someone else's conversation — and I wasn't even sure about where it was coming from. I heard "Close your mouth" a couple more times as the groundhog kept digging. It wasn't until I "felt" dirt fling into my mouth that I realized she really was telling me to close my mouth because she was digging with a motion that shot dirt behind her and into me! I followed her down the hole, which seemed already fully formed — the digging she was doing had been to just clear the opening of dirt that had covered it up. It was dark inside except for occasional light beaming down from various tunnel openings along the way. I thought it would be claustrophobic — and it might have been if I actually were down there — but in this experience, it just felt as normal as walking down a hallway in a home. The smell was earthy and pleasing, the temperature cool. And she was moving fast! My point of view was still from behind her and it almost felt like I was just being pulled along, as I didn't really have to "walk" and it didn't feel like I was in groundhog form either. She reached another end of the tunnel and popped her head out the hole into the sunshine. As is often the case, I wondered if I really just experienced that. I thought of some advice often given to learners when they aren't sure how to have a conversation yet: ask the animal, "Do you have a message for me or is there anything you want me to know?" So I tried asking that and heard her reply: "Your tunnel is your own. You travel it. You decide where it goes." And then she added, "Sometimes being 'below it all' is just as good as being 'above it all,'" meaning "out of reach" of all the chaos and crowd mentality in this world. I thought about this concept, which is a common one these days among those who are "awakening" to their own spiritual paths. And, of course, it's true. Even among animals who have instinct and breed characteristics and purpose so ingrained in their DNA, they still find ways to be individual; to follow their own paths; express themselves in their own ways. If only that would be the purpose and theme of "Groundhog Day" — reminding you that you have the power to find your own path. That sounds a lot better than superstitiously letting an animal's random actions divine when winter will end. I thanked the groundhog for spending time with me and wished her luck with all her future conversations with people! Hi. My name is Josh and it's been six months since my last animal communication. <long, incredulous pause> Yes, it's true. Despite assuring myself that I would continue practicing long after the last Challenge ended, I simply didn't. First there was recovering from the extremely taxing experience of not only running the Challenge, but participating in it (including publicly documenting it). Then there was a period of catching up on all the things I put aside during the Challenge. We all know how life goes. I don't really need to spell out all details of why I didn't continue doing something I want so much to do, deep down. In reality, the last few years have been energetically challenging to my physical and mental well-being. World chaos. Empath stuff. Lots of other reasons I simply don't understand. So here I am, six months out from any formal communication, wondering if it will even still work, and my dog, Gingersnap, immediately popped in as I wondered who I would even talk with today — if anyone. I was sitting on the couch, a floor below where she was sleeping in the loft. In my mind, she excitedly jumped from the loft all the way down to the couch, landing on me, pinning me down playfully and looking me right in my face, wild-eyed and enthusiastic. "Does this mean you want to talk today?" I asked rhetorically and with a knowing smile. "Yes!" she answered. "I'm excited and happy and energized," she said with puppy-like enthusiasm. This made me tear-up because she was responding to my inner thoughts, which, these days, were guided by my growing sadness around how she no longer is a puppy with all that enthusiasm and joy she once had. In fact, she is now considered a senior dog at age 13, and though she still loves to walk daily, play ball, bark at things out the window, and explore new places, her stamina is diminished and her focus is more on enjoying these things in moderation rather than that all-out "up for anything" attitude she once had. She nuzzled me, it felt like with compassion and understanding. "I'm here. We're here together. It may not be the same as it once was. Life is like that, always changing, evolving, moving from one point to another," she explained. I knew this, of course. But my mind focused on the fact that it's still sad to move from a treasured state of being to another that may feel like a lesser or less-desired place. Gingersnap immediately caught this thought and reminded me that, "Every point in life has its magic — something or many things unique that can only happen at that place in time." "But I can't bear the thought of someday losing you!" I blurted out. It's really my biggest fear and weighs on me often. But it's also a conversation I didn't want to have — and this thought kept coming up with every new exchange in this dialog. The Tree of LifeGingersnap put her head on my chest, over my heart. We sat quietly for a few moments. "You forget that we have been walking this path together since I was born in this life. It's not just that you have watched me grow from a puppy to this age and so the concept of that feels sad to you. It's that we grew together, experienced life together, got older together. Our lived are intertwined permanently." "That stuff is never quite as comforting as it sounds," I told her. "There's still the part about losing someone, not having them in your life anymore in a real way. That feels deeply saddening." "One of the intricacies of Earth," she said. "But if you could step back and see what is really happening, it would ease the pain. Picture a beautiful, ancient tree, with deep roots that connect to the earth — and then from the earth to everything else on the planet. Your being is the tree trunk, solid, grounded, strong… and supported by all those you love in your life. Not just this life, all life." "You mean on the soul level?" I asked. "Yes. The big boat in the sky," she answered. She continued, "As you move up to the branches, alongside all those in your soul family, you begin expanding, exploring, listening to your whims and following your curiosities." As I listened to this description, I could picture it all. And I mean, all at once. The communication came in one sentence after another so I could write it down. But it also came in a big burst of knowing what she was going to say next, and what it all means. So I didn't have to wait until her next sentence to understand what she was getting at. I knew. I could see it. The tree expanded outward infinitely, with endless branches and offshoots. I watched it grow and I knew it had no end. And I knew Gingersnap and I were traveling one of those branches in this life. I also knew we were traveling many other branches simultaneously in concurrent lives. "Ah, I see now," I said. "The tree doesn't just grow one branch at a time. It is always growing with numerous branches, numerous lives, all connected at the roots." The picture of all this came quickly, enabling me to understand in an instant. I wondered momentarily about those other shared lives and immediately got a picture of me flying a small plane and a happy dog in the cockpit with me, exploring the skies. It didn't look like Gingersnap, but it felt like that was another of our shared lives. An Eternal Connection"Gingersnap, how is it that you know all of this?" I always wondered about this, because though it seems that other species are more tapped into universal knowledge than humans, Ginger never came across as a wise guru teacher like some animals do. Again, I got an instant understanding: she was simply tapped into her higher self, something we can all do. Many humans don't, at least consciously. "So what you are saying, and what I think I already knew, is that we are together in many lives. And knowing this is supposed to make it easier when your time together ends in one of them?" I asked with some amount of skepticism. She acknowledged this with a slight smile and compassionate understanding. "You know when you had to drop Savanna (daughter) off to preschool for the day?" she asked. "Yes. She would cry. It was heartbreaking leaving her." "For a day," Gingersnap wanted me to acknowledge this minuscule amount of time. "Yes, leaving her for a day," I confirmed. "But you knew it was all for the best, to help her grow, learn, socialize, become a more complete person," she said. "Uh huh." She continued, "And you would always get to see her again at the end of the day. So it was never goodbye forever." "I get it. Like life." At the end of the day — or at the end of the branch — everything is always still connected deeper down the tree. I paused. Regrouped. Sometimes I worry that I'm making things up or getting carried away with a story I'm perhaps telling myself. So I find it helpful to just stop, refocus, and just see what comes to me, making sure to be in a state of receptivity rather than "willing" the thoughts to me or "creating" the conversations. I pictured Ginger again. She had her head on her paws, lying on the floor, and was calmly and lovingly looking at me. It was a very knowing look. And she said simply, "I love you." "We are connected deeply," her thoughts flowed to me. The tree and its roots flashed in my mind. "And there's no changing that. I am here to support you and you to support me." I thought of my daughter and wife, wondering about Ginger's role in their lives. To which she answered, "We have our own special relationships, our own experiences to share. It's not about more or less, better or worse. But just different. Unique. Special in its own way." My mind returned to my original thoughts, about this life. She caught this and said, "Just keep supporting each other through it all. It's what love does." I knew she was not only talking about her years to come, but about our family, supporting each other in the ways we do, during easier times and the more difficult. Yes, it's certainly a package deal, I thought. Life comes with the good times and difficult ones. I knew I was still avoiding the big questions I felt deep inside, like how much longer does Ginger have on Earth? I'm not sure I even wanted that answer. I could feel panic rising in me just thinking about it. But then I felt a calmness I didn't expect. Ginger was there again, still resting her head on her paws and gazing at me with a gentle, yet confident knowingness. "I'm not worried about it," she told me. I breathed a sigh of relief, both mentally and physically. And sat back, trying my best to enjoy the view from high up in that tree. I really wanted to make a clear connection with Shasta, to see if what I heard and saw yesterday was true or accurate. So I decided to try again today. I pictured myself right in front of Shasta as she lay on the bed. I put my arms and hands out in front of me on the bedcover. Shasta swatted at them playfully. "Hi Shasta, do you remember me from yesterday?" I asked. "Yes, are you still going to help?" she answered. "Yes, I'm going to try, but I wanted to make sure I actually made a connection with you yesterday so I can be as accurate as possible," I explained. She looked confused. "Well, who else could it have been?" "I guess it could have been my imagination. No one in your family has heard from you for more than a year, so they don't even know if you are alive or not. I wanted to be able to tell them something true." I asked, "Can you show me something that will let your family know you're okay?" I see her roll onto her back playfully, almost dog-like. "What else would you like to show me?" I continued. I see a close-up of a brown squirrel eating something that looked like it had an orange peel. She also showed me a man, late fifties, early sixties, gray, longish hair, a trimmed beard. The view I got was mostly from behind, so I saw that his hair in the back flipped up at the ends and pointed to the sides. I asked Shasta to keep showing me things that might help. I get some snippets of the interior of the house. The front door has a big oval frosted glass pane in it. I see what looks like a few larger dogs anxiously and energetically responding to someone at the door. It feels like they are a big energetic presence in the house and that is why Shasta stays in the room. When they go outside, she is able to roam around more freely. Several times I got imagery that felt like, although this house was surrounded by fields and countryside, there was a new development nearby with a new neighborhood. Like yesterday, I asked what she is getting to eat and saw what looked like canned tuna or fish. She seems to like it. "I know you are living away and I am patient. I'm okay here," she said to her family. The feeling I got was that she doesn't want to be any trouble. She is aware her family lives far away now and she just wants life to be easy for them. And if that means she stays where she is, that's okay. I also felt like this was part of a plan set out from the beginning when she came to this life. That there would be a point that she would be separated like this and it was unwritten which direction things would take. The main "business" she and her family had together was complete and this was a crossroad that could go either way, depending on the choices everyone involved made. Not knowing where to go with things, I felt at a loss and wish I could be more helpful. "Anything else you want to say to your family, Shasta?" I asked before closing. She thought a moment, then I saw dozens of hearts emanating from her, floating out to her family. Endless love. Thank you, Shasta. Good luck on your journey. Shasta is a cat who has been away from her family for more than a year. She disappeared one day while they were living in a rural location. They were heartbroken to have to move to the city without her and without knowing where she was. I don't normally do any kind of tracking or lost animal connections, as I don't have the skill or experience and it's too sad for me. For some reason, I felt like trying today, just to connect and see if I could tell what it felt like — whether the animal was still in physical, how she is doing, where she is. I was open to anything that came in. Gentle energyWhen I first tuned in, Shasta met me with sweetness. She was very gentle and soft-spoken. I had remembered reading that one thing to ask a lost animal is if they are hungry or what they are eating. It can give you a clue if they are in spirit or still on earth with physical needs. When I pictured Shasta eating, I immediately felt she appreciated fish, tuna I think, and it's something she gets a lot of. I felt strongly that she was safe and warm and healthy in a home. She wasn't distressed, but her heart was elsewhere with her family. I see her on a bed with a red and gold bedspread. She is alone in the room, which feels a little like a spare room. There doesn't seem to be anything on the walls. The bed frame is a light wood with some ornateness carved into the wooden headboard. It feels like perhaps an older couple lives here. There may be another cat in the house, but Shasta keeps her distance, which is why she is in the spare room. She is treated well and loved. I see a green tractor with yellow writing on it. I asked Shasta if all she is showing me is a memory. She assured me it's happening right now. When I asked if she could show me the difference in how it feels if she were here or in spirit. She said she can't do that because she is only here. Fox HuntI then asked her if she could show me what happened on the day she disappeared. She showed me that she followed a butterfly or something flying through a field. At some point, she encountered a fox (are there foxes in the area?). She ran! She made it to a big tree and climbed high. I asked if the fox was able to climb after her. She said he did, but couldn't climb as high as she did and gave up. She stayed up there for a long time (feels like more than a day). She was scared to come down and didn't really know how anyway. Finally, as she was shifting positions, she actually fell from the tree to the ground. She was unhurt, but wasn't ready to come down or prepared to meet up with the fox again, so she ran. By this time she was not sure where she was. She was too afraid to pay attention. The next thing she knew, she was at a house with some nice people and they fed her. She was able to hide there and calm down for several days. I think this is where she still is and she has been afraid to go exploring again, even to look for home. New home, new nameAt this point, I wondered how much of this I was actually hearing or seeing. I wanted to make sure it was true.
I said to Shasta, "Your family loves you so much and they miss you. They looked all over for you." She listened intently to this and said she felt the same way, then asked, "How do I get there?" I admitted I don't know. "Shasta, your family had to move from that house to one that is farther away, but they are still trying to find you. I think I would stay where you are if it's safe and let them try to find you there." I wondered, "Can you tell me what you see when you look outside the house?" Nothing really came in clear for me. Initially I saw wheat-colored fields. Then I thought I saw a dog on a long leash out front, gray and looking like an Irish wolfhound or a greyhound with longer fur. The house seems to have a porch and the colors are gray and maroon. I asked, "What do they call you?" I heard something like Texi or Tiksy. --- Read Part 2 here. I thought of the new section on the site about connecting with nature. Maybe today would be a good time to revisit that. Earlier in the month, I connected with a crystal and the associated faerie. Today, I wanted to see how it felt to be a rock. I envisioned myself as the rock. It felt heavy and grounded. But I wondered if I was really feeling what a rock feels, as I still had my own mind and senses working while feeling the rock. I tried to imagine transferring my consciousness to the rock. It seemed to get me a little closer to what I wanted to experience. I still felt the same heavy groundedness. But the only other thing I felt was content. Contentedness to just be. No impatience, emotion, expectation. No feeling hot or cold, scared or bold or even proud or wise. Just this feeling of being that went on forever. I imagined myself in a stream, surrounded by water. I could feel the water moving around me, rushing downstream. It wasn't a feeling like you would feel on your skin. Just that other things were happening around me, concurrently, but not necessarily to me. I was still heavy and grounded, unchanged by my surroundings. I imagined what would happen if someone stepped on me, like when they were crossing the stream. Again, it felt like something that was just happening around me, not necessarily to me. I didn't feel the pressure of a shoe on me. No pain or other sensations. I was the same. I then imagined being crushed or shattered. Surprisingly, I still felt no emotion around it. No panic, pain, excitement, or fear. I just was. Still grounded. And each new part of me — now in many pieces — all felt just the same. Though, I didn't feel like all these new pieces were me. Each was just another grounded rock now. Each felt the same contentedness and sense of unchanging continuity. How is it then, that we can talk to things like rocks and they appear to have thoughts and maybe even personalities, yet what I was experiencing was nothing like that? The rock answered, "You are experiencing what it's like to 'be.' Talking, on the other hand, is doing." "So, your essence is 'being,' but you are able to shift into 'doing' whenever you want?" I asked. "Yes, though there are not many choices for 'doing' in our existence," said the rock. "Do you enjoy shifting into 'doing' every once in a while?" I wondered. "Our greatest enjoyment is being what we are. There are no highs or lows, ups or downs, pleasures or pains. We are what we are," the rock explained. The outlook felt very foreign to how humans look at things. There was no room at all for unhappiness or displeasure or dissatisfaction. There were no options to be one way or another, to have many choices for how to act or be or feel. There was one way and it is contentedness. Understanding this viewpoint really gave me a greater perspective on the human experience — the diversity and range of emotions and yes, lots of drama, that come along with choosing and living this life. I could see why someone would choose it if they were looking for that full-spectrum experience. And I could see why they would choose other kinds of existences, like that of a rock or an animal. Each is truly so different, none better or worse than the other. Since I was scheduled to visit Lulu at the farm sanctuary the next day, I thought I would check in with her again to see if she was more open to talking with me than the first time. As soon as I focused on her, she quickly turned away toward the other sheep and acted like she didn't see me. It was the equivalent of seeing someone in the grocery store who you don't want to talk with, so you quickly look the other way and busy yourself with something so that you don't "notice" them. So I sat down in my vision, a short distance from her, and said, "I'm just going to sit here. We don't have to talk." Almost immediately, she came over to me as she always does in real-life, did the nose-touch thing, and then laid down right next to me. She seemed comfortable with this set-up. I wasn't sure what to do next — if I should just sit in silence, or if "thinking" to her was allowed. "Should I not talk with you?" I asked her hesitantly. "You can talk," she answered with a little softer tone. I could tell she was just exploring her comfort zone, trying her best to make amends and to see how we might make this work. Currently, that meant laying next to me and talking, but without looking at me. It felt like we were mobsters outside of Gino's Italian Deli, talking about some illicit subject without letting on that we knew each other or were actually having a conversation. I think she was just trying to "save face" in front of the other animals in her herd. "I'm sorry if anything I did caused you any trouble," I said cautiously. "It's nothing you did," she assured me. "It's just herd dynamics. I have to live with them, so need to make sure everyone is comfortable." "Okay, I understand," I said. "What would you like to talk about?" I asked. I could see her running through typical sheep topics in her mind: grazing, smelling flowers, hanging out with the other animals — and then thinking, "This is just sheep stuff and not too interesting for you." "Why did you choose to be a sheep in this life?" I asked. She let out a big sigh. Not of exasperation or irritation, but to signify rest. Being a sheep was a chance to just "be" without doing much. No expectations. Relatively few dangers or dramatic events. It was serene. She had done it before (been a sheep) and enjoyed it, so is here for another go-around. I remembered that I had just read that she and her sibling, Baboomba, came to the sanctuary because their mother rejected them. I wondered why they had set up that scenario, so asked her. "We weren't ever in any danger, because we had a plan," she explained. And by plan, she meant "master/divine plan." "Mother was to push us away so we would end up here and learn independence, to be our own people," she told the story, still without looking at me. "But it still must have been difficult to feel rejected my your mother and maybe scary to leave her," I posed. "On one level, yes. It comes with living on this planet. We feel, we are immersed, we get carried away with events. But the other level — the one we are pretty good at keeping in mind — is that there's always a plan. A reason. And we helped create it, so we know the end-game." I'm always surprised at how wise and connected other beings are about this kind of stuff as opposed to humans, who are often clueless. "Why is that, Lulu?" I wondered if she knew the answers to my last thought. "That, I don't know," she said simply and honestly. "Humans are a breed apart." "You've never incarnated as a human?" I wondered. "No," she said thoughtfully. "Not yet." And it felt like she was thinking whether or not she would ever want to do that. "When I see you tomorrow, will it be awkward for you?" I asked. "Will you be able to interact like this or like you used to?" "Business as usual," she said without elaboration, still casually looking left and right and not at me, in an effort to appear like we aren't talking. "Okay, I look forward to seeing what business as usual means to you," I said with a little laugh. "I'm pretty good with cues, so just let me know what's comfortable for you and I'll follow it. She gave a slight, pleased smile, but not in my direction. Then she got up and went to join Baboomba and Nia. Mob business completed. When I tried connecting again with the mystery dog, or at least asking for her to show me what I need to see, I felt a flood of liquid in my throat and nostrils, like it was coming up from within. Again, I felt or sensed a metal object in her stomach. But this time, I also got a visual of a human's open mouth and metal objects getting tossed out of it, as if someone were in there discarding junk. I wonder if there is some mirroring going on between this dog and her person or if she is "taking on things" to try and help? When I asked her what would help her, I heard, purity/purification. She seems to be filtering something. I also heard parsley. When I asked her to show me what else is affecting her, I heard "right oculus." Feedback:What you say makes sense. It could be something about mirroring. There is the theory that sees the dog as "external organ of somatization" .... of their guardians. A place to watch a little closer. The metal thing in the stomach I'm pretty sure is because the amount of medicine she's been given. Purification is needed, yes. The mass in her brain is on the right side. A friend of mine sent me a challenge: to simply connect with a dog whose picture she sent and see what I get. She is an animal healthcare professional, so I assumed this animal had some medical issues, but I had no other details about anything. I initially rejected this idea of a "test" of this sort. It felt stressful. But after a little thought, I decided to just go for it. As soon as I tuned into this dog, I got a visual of liquid shooting back up from her stomach toward her mouth. I heard in a hoarse, gruffer voice (kind of like someone who smokes a lot), "Oh, it burns." There was no panic or much concern in the voice. As I continued focusing on her, I heard, "You don't need to fuss over me so much." I also got a visual and feeling of something pointy in her stomach. For some reason, the shape and feeling was that of a compass used for mathematics. I knew that something like that couldn't possibly be inside someone, so I was trying to think of the meaning — maybe it was just representing something else? As I thought about this, the visual of a small pencil came to mind. I realized it was the kind of pencil that is used on a compass. Could she have eaten one and the lead is causing some trouble? I asked again to see something helpful and saw and smelled tobacco, the loose kind that you would put in a pipe or to roll your own cigarettes. She said, "I won't do it again. Just stop prodding and poking me. Can't a gal just live her life?" Feedback:It may be that her stomach feels that way. She is taking two strong antibiotics, corticosteroids, anti-seizures, and she was injected with two doses of anti-neoplastic (cytotoxic). She is also on homeopathic treatment. She has a mass in the brain, had seizures (not lately), turns on one side for walking. They don't know what is going on, if it's something autoimmune, tumor or infection. I pictured Lulu at the farm sanctuary where she lives and I volunteer every week. She looked up at me as she does on most days when I first show my face through the barn door and she came up to put her nose right in front of mine. "Hi Lulu, should we connect in this way?" I asked, referring to telepathy. "Why?" she wondered. The feeling was, we've been fine the way we've been doing it. "Don't you communicate with the other animals in this way?" I asked. "Yes… but that's with them," she said a little perplexed. It felt like she liked this safety barrier she has with people, where they don't get to touch that part of her world. "I just thought it would be nice to connect on a deeper level. You could tell me more of what you like or want. Right now, I don't understand the sounds you make and you don't understand when I talk to you," I explained. "I kind of do," she said. "I get the meaning." "But I don't think it's anything like we are doing right now, where you can understand everything I am saying," I continued. As she thought about this, I could see her involuntarily shrug her shoulder away, like she was hiding away a treasured toy from a playmate. Lulu was always pretty friendly to me in person, so I was surprised by this outlook. I wondered if I could change the energy and alter the situation. I imagined the scenario going a different way, where she was friendly, open to this, and maybe even excited or appreciative of a telepathic connection. The result was that Lulu smiled sweetly and said with more comfort and love than before, "I appreciate that. I really do. We are worlds apart. It's always been that way. It will take me some time to get used to it." "Okay," I answered. "I would never want this to be an uncomfortable or unpleasant experience. Take your time. How about if I just check back with you another time?" "Yes," she answered simply and thoughtfully. I was going to say that I'll see her next week when I usually visit the farm, but then wondered if I might speak to her again before then. She sent back: "Oh, it won't take me that much time to decide." But the feeling I got was that it wasn't just her that was deciding, but Baboomba (the other sheep) and Nia (the llama), as well. The three of them seemed to be of one mind on this and it also felt like Nia, who acted as protector and has always kept her distance and showed marginal interest in interacting with us, was perhaps a strong influencer here on keeping us separate. "Then maybe I'll check back with you in a couple of days and see how you feel about it then, okay?" I asked. "Yes," she said again, simply. "Bye, Lulu," I said. No answer. She looked at me thoughtfully, considering all that just transpired. "Hey, Dude," are you up for a talk today?" I asked. "Sure," he said cheerfully. "Do you get a lot of feedback about your name?" I wondered. "People REALLY like to say my name. It makes me happy," he said. "They say it in funny ways." I see him just being part of whatever is happening in the moment and he's very happy to be involved in it all. It feels like he loves life and his life and that is his main mission. I wondered if that really was true. "Do you really have no other mission or job in this life, Dude?" I asked. He hesitated then replied, almost under his breath, "I'm also a guide sometimes." It felt like it wasn't necessarily a guide with wisdom to share or a guide for someone who is blind, but he is helping to guide someone in particular through life, someone who sometimes struggles to stay on track. This was the source of the hesitation — Dude didn't want to embarrass anyone. "Dude, that sounds noble to me, to be someone's guide in that way. Isn't it something you are proud of?" I asked. The curious part for me was that a dog would even think this way, with a little bit of embarrassment or shame. I would have thought that a dog would simply be thrilled that he is doing what he is doing and why he is doing it wouldn't even matter. That's what I was asking him further. Dude perked up and said in an enthusiastic way, "I'm really good at this!" I then realized that the slight feeling of embarrassment or shame may have been coming from the person Dude was helping. It felt like occasional bouts of low self-esteem and self-disappointment — which, of course, most of us experience throughout life! I thought I would change the subject, so asked what else he liked. I see hamburgers, frisbee, tennis balls, swimming, chasing flocks of birds away, getting to go with his people wherever they go. I then asked what he doesn't like and I got a lot of hemming and hawing. I first got some quick snippets of getting sand in his mouth and a frisbee or football hitting his rump area. But when I tried to see if that was true or to feel further what he really doesn't like, he tried to switch it to say he likes everything. He doesn't want to focus on anything negative. "Everything's good," he said. I don't really feel like he believes this 100%, as there are things that feel a little worrisome to him just below the surface (like responsibility and ensuring everyone is happy), but he is doing his best to be a cheerful and happy beacon in life. "What else would you like to talk about, Dude?" Again, I get a flash of hamburgers and an outdoor barbecue. I guess he really enjoys the energy of the event and fun of eating hamburgers? HIs personality feels very gentle and sweet and like he wouldn't hurt a fly. I wondered to him again if there was anything else he wanted to talk about and he looked around, a little distractedly and said, "I don't know, I think I might be going somewhere soon." This felt more like a hope, but something he wanted to keep tabs on and be ready for. "Okay, how about if I say goodbye for now and you can check on your possible outing?" I asked him. "Yes, let's do that," he replied enthusiastically. "Okay, thank you for talking with me, Dude!" He barked in another direction, as if he were telling someone in another room to hurry up. Feedback:Dude lives in Brazil. His human mom is Brazilian and human dad is German. Dad named him Dude, thinking it would be pronounced "Dude" like in the U.S. Except everyone in Brazil ends up calling him "Dutschi." which explains why he says people say his name funny! He was rescued from the streets and mom is sure he has been with her in past lives and is here to keep her "on track." She needs some guiding and has been battling low self-esteem and self-disappointment. He loves tennis balls and going to the beach. He goes nuts with making the flocks of birds fly away, He doesnt enjoy swimming much, but he is nuts for the beach. He is really a sweet, happy dog, really smart too and he loves people. He enjoys the barbecues because of the meat, of course, but he loves to be part of things and to be surounded by people in a group. He beams with all the attention. He was probably getting ready to leave for a walk near the end — the highlight of his day! "Hi Liya," I greeted. "Hi," she said simply, a little reservedly. "What was all that about yesterday when you said you are open to speaking, but only with the right people?" I asked, referring to my Facebook post to invite learners to talk with her. "But I made sure to say they all could be the right people," she reminded me, as if that qualifier made all the difference. "I just thought it was interesting but maybe a little off-putting to some who are just learning and are already afraid of trying to connect," I pointed out. "Well, I'm willing to talk with all the learners, just not people who blab without listening," she clarified. "Most learners probably wouldn't be blabbing. Usually that kind of talking comes with comfort and unawareness. People who are learning often are tip-toeing into this, and are trying to listen more than they talk," I said. "Then we're good!" she replied. "Great! So, what would you like to talk about?" I asked. "I saw you had an interest in my heritage," she said. She must have "seen" my thoughts, because I was thinking about how a "Bengal" cat came to be dispersed through the world. "My ancestors came from the wildlands of India, along the Bay of Bengal," she began. She sent a picture of wild leopard cats stalking the prairies and jungles. "We were small enough to visit human villages undetected. So we did. We found food and eventually companionship." "You mean companionship with other cats or with humans?" I tried to clarify. "A little of both," she answered. And it was enough so that over time, some of of us stayed. Do-mes-ti-ca-shun," she drew out the last word with a little snarkiness and regret on behalf of her species. "How it is that most animals seem to know so much more than humans do?" I wondered to her. She looked at me like, "What do you mean?" "It's just that I've talked with so many animals who have such wisdom and knowledge about things humans just don't know or have access to. It really feels like we know very little about our world." I said. "Ohh," she replied, seeing what I was getting at. "Well, anyone can be connected. The information is all there. Nobody's hiding it from you." She said this matter-of-factly, not with any derogatory tone. I was getting a picture of this great energetic pool of information when she continued. "Cats have a deep sense of self. We know who we are, where we came from, where we're going, why we're here," she said. "Humans are just beginning to learn this. You spend time on lots of details about the physical world. Much of that matters little to us. What we need to know is already in us." Then she added, "And if you want to know a secret, it's already in you, too. But you (humans) are out of touch, a disconnected bunch, if you don't mind my saying." "You can say what you wish," I replied. "I would have to agree. It feels like we're just at the beginning stages of getting reconnected. What do you think will happen when we finally catch up and can do what cats do?" She gave a little laugh. "Check back with me in a few thousand years. We've been doing this for a long time. By the time you get to where we are, we'll be somewhere else. But we are here to help," she admitted. "It was part of our agreement to be of assistance when we can." "Reluctantly?" I asked, knowing that some cats seem to feel humans are here to serve them. "Well, not everyone is on-board in the same way. But in general, we are here to help — as you are here to help us," she explained. I began wondering if there was another topic she wanted to talk about and I sensed a bored/impatient feeling from her. I thought maybe I was projecting that on her, so sent positive energy to the situation to see if things would shift, at least in my mind. It didn't, and Liya came in to say, "No, that's me." "You're bored and impatient with this conversation?" I asked. "A little. Don't take it personally. I was built this way." she said. "Okay, should we stop talking for now" I asked. "Sure. Probably best. I'm still here to help," she added, referring to her availability to talk with learners on the site. "But… my terms…" she tried to explain. "I get it and no worries. Everyone is different and I appreciate your willingness to help and talk. It should be the right timing and conditions for you, too." I said. "So you're off to a nap or…" I left it to her to answer. The picture and feeling I got was of her going off to stalk/explore/make her presence known in her domain. "Sort of like checking on the kingdom?" I asked. "Yes, you got it," and she said this also with a feeling of you "get" it. "Okay, well, have fun, Liya. And thank you." I said in closing. She acknowledged me over her shoulder as she stalked away. I wanted to quickly connect with Gingersnap, our dog, to see how she is feeling about someone who is working with her energetically to resolve her "crazy barking" issue. Over the years, she has matched the energy shifts in our own family. We've gotten more sensitive and so visitors to our door and inside our house can have a negative affect on us to different degrees. Gingersnap, in trying to protect us from this, has used her own energy readings of us and decided all that anxiety must mean we need help and protection from it. So, whereas she once barked when someone was at the door, then calmed down enough for us to answer it or to have a visitor in, now she isn't able to calm down. She gets literally "out of her head" and doesn't know what she is doing. And she isn't able to snap out of it for the entire time someone visits. We've had service people here for 2-3 hours and she barks the whole time, making it impossible to have a conversation. She has also transferred this approach to phone rings and even app alerts on the phone. Someone who is developing her energy healing skills offered to work with Gingersnap on this. She has reported some resistance and so is taking it slowly to give Ginger a chance to make her own decisions and find her own way. I wanted to check in to explain more to Ginger and make sure she knew she is being supported, not forced into anything. An enlightening conversation."Hi Gingersnap, how's it going?" I asked. It felt like she already knew the topic. She looked uneasy. I sent some love to the situation and that seemed to soften the conversation. she now looked more relaxed and happy.
"I hear you've been talking with (the healer)," I said. "She's trying to help you with the out-of-control feeling you get when someone comes to the door." It felt like she was trying to send me the image of how fun it is to do all that barking, purposely ignoring or leaving out the part about how it also doesn't feel good to be so out of control. "Ginger, I know you don't want to feel the way you do when this happens. You aren't able to enjoy any of the visitors and you sometimes try to bite me when I touch you during the barking. I know you don't want to hurt me or anyone else." "No," she said, in a way that also said "Do I do all that? I'm not sure I believe that I really do." "You may not remember all those things because you get so carried away with the barking. We can't reach you. It doesn't seem fun and it certainly isn't healthy for you or anyone around you. We want you to be feel more peaceful and to act more peaceful when we have guests. If we invite them in, they likely are trusted and you don't have to worry about protecting us from them." It feels like she "gulped" as she realized what she had been doing. "(The healer) is helping to teach you some ways you can help yourself and feel more peaceful around visitors. Is that okay with you?" Initially, when I began the conversation and before I started writing it down, Ginger had responded to this idea with "School? I don't want that." But now, she seemed more open to it. The main thing I felt was her reticence at working with a "stranger." It felt like she'd rather be working with me. "Sometimes, working with someone you don't know so well is better," I explained. "Familiarity can keep you in a rut or prevent you from breaking out of patterns. We think (this healer) is caring and loving and only wants the best for you. She really is working hard to make sure you are comfortable with every step and you can always just tell her if something doesn't seem right or if you want a break or to stop." Again, I got the feeling that her main concern was working with someone else other than me, that she would have to be "away from me" in order to do so. "It might feel that way, but you aren't really going anywhere. You are still with us all of the time, doing all of the same things. You're just spending some of your thinking time with her — all while right next to me." I could feel her thinking about all of this, still trying to come up with reasons why it may not be ideal. I thought I would try to explain further. "Ginger, here's what we would love to happen: when someone comes to the door, you are curious. You might bark once to let us know and to let them know you are here. But once we are aware of it, you look to us for cues. If we welcome someone in, it's because we want them here and want to talk with them. If we are just getting a delivery or someone needs to talk with us on the doorstep and we agree to it, then that is also your cue to just be there with us and let us have space and quiet so that we can interact. If someone comes inside, we would love for you to help welcome them, calmly and in a gentle, friendly way — and without the barking. If all that happens, you will actually be able to enjoy visitors and they will enjoy you. You'll be able to hang out with us while they are here! And because you're with us the whole time, you can monitor the situation and if things ever feel alarming to you, like you need to protect us, you will be right there to do so. We will all feel much calmer and more peaceful with this kind of process. Can you see where you would, too?" I again felt she was trying to process all of this, while having a hard time letting go of the old scenario. It felt like she thought she was losing something in the deal. "What you feel you are losing is simply a way of doing things that never worked and was causing you and us harm. We all happily trade that in for something that feels much better for all of us. It doesn't mean you have lost your job. It just means we are trying to help clarify your job because things have become a little blurry over the years." At this time, I took a deep breath, but it felt like I was mirroring hers, like she was finally letting go of the old paradigm — or at least, conceding that it might be a good idea to try it. "You're still in charge of your life, Ginger. We're not forcing you to do anything, just trying to help you see a different perspective that we think will bring us all more peace. And (the healer) is here to help you with some techniques to help you redirect." "Ok," said Ginger. She was now lying down, feeling worn out by the thought of it all. It looked like she just need to "sleep on it" to integrate all this information. So I hugged her, blanketed her with a sense of how proud we are of her and how much we appreciate her, and left her to snooze. I was out walking the dog and went by the neighbor's house. A friendly yellow lab who lived there and had passed away sometime last year popped into my head. The neighbors didn't tell me about his passing — I had to guess — and they've not brought up their dog since. However, when I passed the house, their dog came right to mind. And with it, a burst of hopeful, bright energy. It felt like this energy had been laying dormant, patiently waiting, but when I put my attention on this dog, it energized her. She said, "They remember me, but they don't know I'm still here with them. Can you tell them?" I answered, "I don't think that would go over so well." The neighbors live a different lifestyle than we do and aren't open to "new age-y" things like animal communication, energy healing, or even spirits. In fact, they already "poo-poo" a lot of what we do, so I can only imagine how that would go if I told them their dog's spirit is still here with them. But the dog replied, "Well, it might get them a little further along," she said, acknowledging their outlook on this topic. Hmmm. I went home deep in thought. This is one of those dilemmas that come up every so often. The last one was when a friend's dog had a long message he wanted me to deliver to my friend — sort of a wake-up call to break out of their sedentary, unhealthy lifestyle and take the dog for a walk (which rarely happens) and get moving more. My friend is sensitive and I couldn't imagine how it would go over. He's also fearful of animal communication, as he thinks the dog will spill his secrets. And now this conundrum, passing along a message that is sure to buy me some ridicule and disbelief. I guess I will see if there is a moment when it feels right. EpilogueI got an opportunity to mention my conversation to the neighbor and it went well! He seemed open to the idea and message and I didn't feel any hint of ridicule or mockery. And I feel really good that I was able to pass along such special message. Yay! Also, he revealed how hard it has been and showed me that they had put his dog's collar on a tree on the right side of their front yard — exactly where I felt the original burst of bright energy come from! Though I didn't give it much thought at the time as to why I would be feeling it from that particular place, now I understood why.
As I looked at York's picture, he seemed to say that he was a little nervous about talking, but was ready. I thought maybe I felt this way because of the expression in his photo. But he chimed in and said, "The photo is timeless. You are reading the energy — and it's correct!" "Okay, York, so why are you a little nervous? Isn't talking like this kind of second-nature for you?" I asked. "Yes, but talking with someone else isn't!" he responded, referring to the difference of telepathy with someone he knows and telepathy with someone he doesn't know. "We can just sit together for a while if you want," I suggested. "No, I can do this," he assured me. I spent the next minute listening to different things York may or may not have said next. They came kind of rapidly, one after another and each time, I kind of pushed them aside, wondering if he was really saying them or if they were things my mind was bringing in. So I took a deep breath and remembered what Starlight (a cat friend) had told me about getting into that extra receptive mode and just letting the words come to me. When I did this, I heard a garbled stream of talking, like someone's thoughts all coming in at once. I realized it was York, who was still feeling a little nervous/excited and he didn't know where to begin, so all of it was coming at once! "Is that all from you, York?" I asked. "Yes!" he admitted kind of sheepishly. "Sometimes I get that way!" "It's okay, you're just full of emotions! What do you want to tell me first?" I tried to stay grounded and create that space for him, too. "I like strawberries," he exclaimed, kind of in a way like he knew it wasn't the norm for a dog to like them. "That's great — and interesting," I responded. "What else do you like to eat?" I tried to picture him eating his food, as that is a way to see what he thinks is good. When I pictured wet food, it felt like it was a little overwhelming and not too much to his liking. Dry kibble was also difficult, as it felt like a lot of work to chew each one. Then chicken pieces came to mind and I saw him happily eating those. It felt just right. I wondered to York what else he might like to talk about. I still felt his energy all wound up. "I'm mama's little bundle of joy!" he said proudly. "Ha! I have no doubt about that. You're adorable in your picture. I'll bet you get lots of attention." "Yes, I'm a little cutie." The little bundle of joy and little cutie comments felt like he had heard people use these so many times with him, that he was now proud of the descriptors. "You're too funny, York," I told him, then asked, "Is it scary being smaller?" "No, I'm not afraid," he said boldly (but not too boldly. The picture he gave me was always in someone's arms, so there is a safety/comfort factor). "I'm not the smallest dog, you know," he wanted me to know. "And I'm not the smallest animal." "That's true. I'm glad your comfortable with who you are. I was only asking because sometimes, smaller dogs are more afraid because everything seems big and sometimes scary to them," I explained. "No, that's not me," he assured me. But again, I got the feeling that he was talking from within someone's arms, where there is comfort and that he might feel differently if on his own. "What else do you like to do on your own?" I wondered to him. I see him exploring the grass, the bugs and butterflies there. He seems to really like fresh, clean smells. But still, I can always feel a person nearby, as if that's how he feels most comfortable. I wondered how he felt about other, bigger dogs or animals. I see him nose to nose with a bigger brownish/tan dog. There's no fear. They love each other. So then I wondered if he feels that way with just this dog or all other dogs. I saw him feel cautious and a little fearful of other big dogs he doesn't know. It doesn't feel like terror. He does have a bold streak and is curious, but also cautious and worried until he gets to know the situation. As I pondered what else to ask or talk to York about, he barked like "Bar-rar-rar-rar-rar-ra," and said, "I can bark, too!" And he barked some more, proud that he was able to express himself like that. "I love that you are able to do that, York! Being able to tell people what you want and need is important." "And it's fun, too!" he added. He really wanted me to know that is was also about having fun, not only about function and necessity. Love is a job, and someone's gotta do it."It sounds like you are an important and wise person in your house. Do you have a special job?" I asked.
"I'm love," he said simply. I was about to try and ask what exactly he meant, but then got a visual of a dessert cart or tray that is used to show people what is available on the dessert menu in a restaurant. They all look delicious and irresistible and are meant to tempt people to choose one. That's how York meant it. He is like the dessert cart of love and with each person he interacts with, he entices them to express their love, to be loving. And he seems to know what he is doing works! "What a great mission you have!" I told him. Yes, he's very proud of it. I was about to tell him I was going to get going now, but thought I'd check to see if there was anything else he really wanted to say. He looked and felt a little hesitant and slightly embarrassed. "What is it, York?" I prodded. "Anyone can be love," he said this like a confession. Like he was admitting that his special mission wasn't unique to him, but that everyone — every single person — had that mission and purpose and ability, to be love, to inspire love in others. "I'm just really good at it," he added, and I was happy to see he gave himself credit for this. "York, I can tell you really are good at this. And I can tell you, not everyone is! It takes someone very special to do what you do and be successful at it with everyone you come across. And look what you just did — you inspired even more love, at the risk of diminishing your own special talent, by telling others they have it within them. I think that's very special and certainly not that common." His energy was now bright and happy. "Keep being awesome, York," I said. "It was really nice getting to know you." He got up, little tail wagging and barked his trademark bark, happily and proudly feeling really good about who he is. As he should! And — as York would want — we all should. I wanted to check in on Senne, who was having some challenges staying grounded when not with her person. I spoke to her first on Day 5 of the Challenge. As soon as I tuned in, Senne began happily and playfully feinting left and right, as dogs do in play mode and as she had done during my first connection with her. "I'm so glad to see you so happy, Senne!" I remarked. She acknowledged this with a dog smile but no words. "How are things going?" I asked. I had her anxiety issues in mind and wondered how the healing technique I had suggested to her was working. "It's hard. I can't always remember what to think when (my person's) away," she reported. "I know. Change and breaking old patterns can be really difficult," I admitted. "But they can also be easy the more you stop thinking about it. I think dogs are supposed to be pretty good at just living in the moment." I could feel her thinking about this. First she thought, "Well, why can't I do it if other dogs can?" and then she thought, "I can do this!" "I know you can!" I agreed. "So when (your person) is away, what happens to you?" I wanted to check on her thought process. "I try to remember she'll be back soon, but once she is out of sight, I start to panic." I can feel her panic. "Can you still sense or feel her when she's not in sight?" I asked. "Yes, always." "Okay, so you know she's there even when you can't see her," I stated. "In a way, you still hold her leash, no matter where she is, right?" I tried to lighten things up. She gave an uneasy smile. "The energy healing technique we talked about last time… you don't have to think about it or actively use it or worry about it. It just works on its own. When you think of (your person), it translates into love. And the love is pure. It supports her in whatever she is doing. It helps her come home to you safely. It gives her the strength and space to go out in the world and do what she needs to do to be happy and healthy. These are all things you want for her, too! And you get to help it all happen. So instead of worrying about her safety or the challenges she faces in a day, you are sending her love and support, which helps way more than worry! Do you want to try it now?" She seemed interested and enthusiastic. "Okay, imagine she is in the room with you. Send her love and support," I instructed. I see a beam going from Senne to her person. It was easy for her! "Okay, now imagine you are in one room and (your person) is in the next room over," I continued. I could already feel some anxiety in her. "Take that anxiety you feel and turn it into love and support," I said. The anxiety subsided and she beamed love to her person in the other room. "Perfect!" I told her. "Now, imagine she is away for the day. You are not alone, as there are still family members with you. (Your person) is happy and safe wherever she goes and can't wait to come home to you. All day, any time you think of her, you will be beaming love and support to her so she feels it all day. It helps her!" She feels much calmer, happier, as she beams this love and support. I envision Senne going about her day, doing various things, always sending love and support. Then her person comes home and all is well. Senne feels victorious. She helped bring her home safely! "Senne, this whole process we just worked with isn't anything you need to think about it. We're setting it up so it just happens. So even if you worry or are anxious, that automatically transforms into love and support. And it goes both ways — you benefit, too. How does that sound?" She is lying down, gently wagging her tail. For some reason, scrambled eggs seemed to pop into her mind. It felt like she was calm enough to let her mind remember that someone gave her some that morning. I had to leave the conversation for a bit, and wasn't sure if I could just pick things up where we left off. I was also feeling like the process I explained was too tedious, at least for me! I prefer things more simple and made that intention that this process would just work without all the thinking. Then I tuned-in and asked, "So how does all that sound, Senne?" This time, she gave me a big happy bark. She was more animated than I'd ever seen her. There was no anxiety in her expression. "That's great!," I happily replied. "The energy you have now is what (your person) will feel from you all day. I think that will make her very happy." Senne is wagging her tail, proud of herself. "I'll check in with you again soon, okay?" I asked. Wag. Wag. Wag. Wag. EpilogueLater in the day, Senne popped into my mind. The focus was on her heart, which felt tight during my first conversation with her. This time, I got the feeling it was loosening. It felt like a tightly closed flower had started opening a little. But not in a way like she has a closed heart — because she doesn't. More like it's fearful or anxious and has tightened over time to protect itself. But now it is unfurling a bit!
Today, Speak! Good Human. hosted the webinar, Quantum Field Connection 2.0. Our expert on the subject, Keri Davis, brought us up to speed on the science behind it, taught some interesting techniques for getting into the right zone to do the most good, and then we all practiced with Zeus. This sweet boy is currently at a shelter. His previous hard times have left him physically and emotionally drained. He simply takes whatever anyone gives him, but without much reaction or engagement. No eye contact, always panting from stress. And just something "off" that no one one has been able to identify yet. During the session, I got a picture of Zeus calmly and patiently in a body of water. It was like a healing bath. It didn't feel like he was doing anything but waiting there patiently, knowing it would take time to heal. I also saw what looked like several porcupine quills in his heart. As he is recovering from a run-in with a porcupine, I don't know if this was symbolic or actual. Since I added the Quantum Field Connection to the site in February, six animals have "graduated" off the page because of significant improvements in their situations. Dogs who have been in shelters for many years were finally adopted! Without that last statistic, one might attribute it to chance that these dogs were adopted, just a function of the shelter. But being there for the lengths they were and then within weeks after being on the site, their situations improved? We got to experience this first-hand during the Quantum Field Connection 2.0 class. After working with Zeus, and basically just creating a loving space for him, we went on our ways after the class ended. Keri, on the other hand, went to the shelter to visit Zeus. What she found was nothing like the dog she had been getting to know — and it surprised the shelter director, too, who was there to witness it. Zeus was expressive, making eye contact and even putting his paw on Keri. He was no longer panting and stressed. He engaged with his surroundings. He felt more grounded and connected. The transformation sounds incredible. Yes, he has a long way to go with some of his physical issues, but his new emotional and spiritual state will surely play a big role in his recovery and eventually in finding his forever home. Wow. My Fifth Conversation with Starlight."Hi Starlight! How are you doing today?" I asked my conversation friend of the past few days. I heard the word "vibrant" and got the visual of her simply glowing with life. "I can feel that you feel that way," I said. "But it's hard for me to imagine feeling that way myself these days. And I'm trying to think if I ever have felt that." "You do have a lot more layers to have to get through to make it to this point," she said, generally of the human experience. And then she added, "The human mind really knows how to send things off-course!" "So I've discovered," I agreed. "Starlight, I have a question I was wondering as I thought about speaking with you today. I thought to myself, why I would choose speaking with you as Starlight versus you as Echo. Is there a difference? Would I get different answers?" "If it is a question relating to how our different bodies and personalities interact with and experience the world around us, then, yes, you will get very specific answers, different from each other," she explained. "But for most other things, you will get answers from the real being inside. The soul. The one simply wearing these costumes." She said that with a sparkle in her eye. She continued, "The wisdom and experience collects over the lifetimes and parks itself right in the soul for ready access." "I have always wondered that," I admitted. "Like, can we take what we learned in one life and apply it in another? Some of these lives seem pretty difficult, with many hard-earned life lessons. To have to do that over and over without retaining the wisdom of experience seems unthinkable." "Yes, the 'old' souls are deeply learned ones, not necessarily any more ancient than others," she said. "The wisdom goes with you, but it's not always accessible, depending on your goals in that life. In other words, some of that wisdom is suppressed so that you can explore and experience what you wanted to in any particular lifetime." "Have you ever lived lives that you don't like?" I wondered. I tried to feel the answer and felt Starlight shudder at recalling some of her lives. "Yes, there were some bad batches," she said with humor. "They were exceedingly difficult and I was happy to leave them. But they are also my badges of honor." "Would you choose them again?" I asked. "I would be…selective," she carefully answered. Choosing and living a life.I was wondering how my current life fell in the spectrum of easy to difficult. I know others have had things much, much worse in their lives and I have many, many good things going in my favor. But lately, it hasn't been easy. I was going to pose such a question to Starlight, but in typical form, the answer just "became apparent." Most of the conversations I have seem to be like this. They aren't usually my asking a question and then waiting for an answer and I write it down. They are my thinking of a question or thought and then knowing what the other is telling me all at once. I then take the energy of that, the personality and delivery I felt, and translate that into a conversation I can put down on paper. So, in this case, when I pondered the difficulties in this life versus others or even my earlier years, Starlight sent back the understanding that while in my early life, I had my unique challenges, they were mostly due to external forces and my inner struggles. Now, at this point in life, while there may be still some of those same features, there is an added challenge of energetic difficulty that flows through life, affecting those who feel it in different degrees. This feels largely out of our control, not something we can conquer or overcome in the same ways as the other challenges. So it brings its own level of difficulty. "That does seem to sum up my experience, Starlight," I sent back. I feel Starlight as very grounded, solidly knowing her place in this world and beyond. And from within that knowing, comes an ease and easiness from which springs her playfulness, wise perspectives, and even mastery of the game. "You chose well in this life," I said to her. "Yes. But there's good in every life." I considered this comment, wondering first about those lives she mentioned weren't her favorite, then realizing she was only pointing out that no matter which life, there is always some good that comes of it. And that led me to the thought of which life or lives were perhaps her favorite. I got a flash of ancient Egypt and the feeling that cats were truly queens there, as sacred as cows in India. "Yes, those were good times," I felt her say as she enjoyed the memory. "Thank you for sharing so much with me, Starlight," I told her. "It was really fascinating. I think we will talk again at some point and I look forward to that!" "You're welcome, my boy," she said, and put a paw on my head. I was just wondering if there was any special meaning in that gesture and she came in to say, "There's no meaning other than affection. Sometimes it's just that simple." Yes, I agree. Simple is good. This is the fifth of six conversations I had with Starlight. You can read the next conversation with her here.
My Fourth Conversation with Starlight.As soon as I glanced at Starlight, we were back talking. "It's been a rough couple of days," I opened with a sigh. Starlight's playful side moved into action and she began doing "chops" on my shoulders like a trainer would with a boxer to loosen things up. "You got this," she encouraged. "I don't know if I have any of it," I lamented wearily. She sidestepped this, knowing that wasn't a positive line of thinking to spend time on. "What if we just talked about you," Starlight suggested. "What about me?" I asked. She urged, "What have you accomplished so far?" "You mean in life?" I tried to clarify. "Sure," Starlight said in an easygoing way. "That would be a long list," I said, "And unimaginable to have to write it all down." "Exactly," she stated, as if her point had just been proven. "You don't need to write it all down. You can feel how big it is. You know what you've been through before and you've come out on top. Or at least survived it to make it to this point. And are you really in such a poor state currently?" "No, not really. I still have lots of wonderful things going for me," I admitted. "Then let's focus on those," she encouraged. "Draw from the strength of your successes and lend to the areas that are tiring you out. In the end it's a balance. But in the beginning, it is about focus. Where you choose to focus. So in every moment that gets you down, think of one thing that brings you back up. One exciting or inspiring or 'reason to get happy' thing. Can you get there now?" "Yes, I can think of several," I said. "Good. And congratulations on all those good things going for you." She was really working the "crowd." "Thank you for your help!" I expressed my gratitude. Connecting the dots... of light.Feeling a little better, I jumped back in, "So what should we talk about now? What do you want to talk about?" But Starlight threw it back to me, "I'm here for you." "Well, I'm still skeptical that I'm actually having these conversations and that I'm making them up. Much of the information I get I can imagine my higher self or some deeper internal knowing coming up with. It's not like I am getting lottery numbers or details that I wouldn't know or have access to," I explained. At this point, I saw Starlight reach up to a bright area above her, like you would with an overhead reading lamp. She adjusted the light to more fully shine on me. I felt the brightness and warmth flow over me. She began explaining, "Do you see how the light connects you to its source? It's seamless. It does the same thing on its other sides, flows outward in all ways to other things, making connections. In fact, connecting everything eventually, as one connects to another. It's a bright light. And it's how you are connected to this knowledge. You think it is your higher self and that your higher self is some self-contained thing in your being. But your higher self is simply the part of you that is connected to this light, which is connected to its source and everything else." I was beginning to understand. In fact, even as she began explaining, I already felt the full picture of what she was getting at. "You don't create this knowing in your self," she continued. "It brings the knowing to you. But sometimes, you are afraid to burst from the fence that surrounds your higher self. So you stay within the safety of what you know, to some extent. With just a few more steps out, you can connect to multiverses." I closed my eyes and imagined this bright edge of my higher side, then of floating beyond it to everything else. As I chose topics to focus on, like my future self, my future relationship with my brothers, my family, I got a view into a more grounded, peaceful time. It didn't have an ecstatic, happiness about it. Just a quiet peacefulness without all the turbulence. "This is a future reality," said Starlight. "'A' reality? How does it help me to know about one of the many possibilities? I'd rather know that there is certainly peace in my future." "You have yet to write that," answered Starlight. "You can imagine it and that's the most important part. If you can imagine it, then it can become your reality. Keep your eye on the prize. Would you rather not know that this is one of your futures? That would feel kind of hopeless, wouldn't it?" "Yes," I admitted. "But how do I ensure that peaceful future is where I end up?" "One foot in front of the other. Plus plenty of help from hope, imagination, dreams, inspiration, work, focus, feeling, sensing. They are your GPS. They'll get you where you want to go," she said. Starlight's path."Are you getting to where you want to go?" I wondered. "Oh yes." And I see her stretching out on her back, as in a hammock, satisfied smile on her face. "I have a clear sense of self and have this life game wrapped around my little finger/claw." She winked at that one. She continued. "This is but a moment in my journey — in all of our journeys. A simple scene from an everlasting play. When you see it that way, that one line you think you flubbed up or the scene you had a bit part in really doesn't matter too much. Actually, not at all. Yet, it matters enormously, because all moments are important enough to embrace fully. Just not stress over." "I see the difference," I told her. "Keeping perspective sure is difficult sometimes." She silently acknowledged that sentiment, and then threw in light-heartedly, "And that's why cats were created." "So I hear," I said with a smile. "And so cats love to remind us," I added. "That we do! Healthy self-esteem, we have," she said Yoda-style. "Thank you for this, Starlight. This was a very interesting conversation and side trip you led me on!" "We traveled together, remember that. Side by side, not one in front of the other." "Like co-creating?" I asked. "That's it." I felt we were not done talking, but today's conversation was done. I knew we would pick up on another day. I reached out to run my hand along her back and she closed her eyes and purred. "See you next time, Starlight." "Keep shining," she ended. This is the fourth of six conversations I had with Starlight. You can read the next conversation with her here. Today I read more of Minding Animals. The more examples he gives of animals showing their emotional and cognitive sides — which the author discovered through observation and anecdotes — the more it feels synchronous with what animal communicators are experiencing through our interactions. But we are working with the internal, the thoughts, the soul, and he is working with the physical and behavioral, which many more people seem to be open to. Seeing is believing. Imagine what can happen when these two sides come together? My Third Conversation with Starlight."Should we try this again?" I asked Starlight, as if we barely had a few moments between conversations, let alone a full day. "Ready, Freddy," Starlight answered playfully. "How do I do this?" I asked. "You know how to do it," she answered simply. "I feel blocked," I countered. "You've done it to yourself," she continued bluntly. "You've made yourself small, when in fact you are expansive. I can see right through it. So can you." "I guess that's the thing about walls," I said. "You can't see through them if you're the one right in front of them." "Then come over here from my view. Switch sides," she suggested. I imagined switching sides, seeing things from Starlight's point of view. I saw me, but a version who didn't look confident. And yes, my head was very small. "See yourself as bigger, more expansive," guided Starlight. I looked at myself and imagined it. I saw light flow through my body, expanding my head. I now looked full-size, confident, powerful, full of light, and connected to the universe. "That's who you are. You can put on whatever other constructs you want, try to cover up what is, hide your light. But it doesn't ever eliminate it or make it go away. It is still there, waiting to be uncovered again. Just imagine it so and it will be. This will work whenever you need it." More wise words from the master. I sat there for another minute, watching the light emanate from me, expand out to the universe around me, connecting me to everything else. "We all have it," said Starlight. "The light is in us and its natural state is to flow out. Shine. Those blinders, walls, shades, that people put up are their own doing, the product of feeling unworthy or unready or being afraid because we don't feel it is our place, our time, our honor, our ability. Sweep it all away! Those are time-wasters, energy suckers. You can get to what's real any time you wish." A new perspective, reborn."OK, " I said, still envisioning the lit-up me. "Can you tell me why you chose to come back as a cat?" "It was an inside job," she said with a lighthearted tone. "There's only so much you can experience as a horse, outside the home. That had its place. It was a way to connect with Nedda in a different way, through nature, the outdoors, through a species known for wisdom, connectedness, groundedness. We were 'being' in a way only a horse and human can. She was my eyes on the inside and I hers on the outside. It was a magical time. We found a strong bond of love in each other." "Why did it have to end?" I asked, thinking that Echo didn't live nearly as long as many horses do. "It was what we planned," said Echo as Starlight. "Nedda would have to rediscover love from within. To become whole on her own. And when she was ready, I would return, our partnership stronger than ever. Both of us ready to take things to new levels. In my new body, I could explore things in ways I had never known — and guide her in ways I couldn't before. Imagine putting a hoof on her keyboard to encourage her to stop and play? A cat can do everything a horse can't. It's surgeon's work. Details only a paw and lithe body can address. And of course, the cat's no-nonsense, yet full-of-nonsense, perspective." That's all she wrote.I asked, "Can you let me feel your love for Nedda?" I was expecting a feeling like true love or that overwhelming warmth in the heart, but instead I felt comfort, respect, everlastingness, partnership, oneness. timelessness. It didn't feel like human love, but bigger than that. A bigger perspective. "We play our parts well, don't we?" Starlight asked. It felt like she was referring to this big picture. Like, after seeing this universal view and knowing the everlasting nature of bonds and relationships and soul-level stuff, and then looking back at what we are all doing here on earth, that it's easier to see the game. That we are playing these parts and just having some fun. "Every great lesson brings it back home," Starlight began to wrap-up. "The blocks and divisions we construct. Indeed an inside job of a different kind. Yet inside all the same. Keep your eye on the big picture so you can remember what we're really doing here. It's not nearly as serious as people make it out to be. When they can remember that, they can remember themselves, their place in all of this. Free. Flowing. And light." I get a visual of her closing what looks like a big textbook. We are in a classroom, she as teacher and I as student. She said something to me that sounded like she was concluding the session, but the words reformulated into a new sentence several times. Each time, with a similar meaning, just in a different way. "And that's all she wrote… today." "And with that, I bid you a good day." "And that, my friend, is a good place to end the lesson today." "You're good for today (and every day)." "I think we're good for today, don't you?" "And with that, I will be on my way… until we speak again. Tres bien?" I was thinking, how do I know which is which? Which is what you are really saying? Is my mind just making up some of these? But the understanding I got was just that they all stem from the same sentiment. My mind can translate or even twist them in endless ways, but the meaning is still the same. And that's the important part. "Okay. I get it. Good class, Starlight. Thank you." This is the third of six conversations I had with Starlight. You can read the next conversation with her here.
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