You always hear "Trust your instincts" and "Go with your gut feeling." The subtle messages we get in the moment are often your being's way of knowing what is best for you. Yes, sometimes fear or other overriding emotions take over and cloud this vision. And yes, it still takes a leap of faith to trust those feelings without really knowing what will happen. But often, that sense of something, that initial hit of emotion or knowing, is right on. It also happens to play a big role in animal communication. Trusting what you hear, see, and feel is one of the foundations of this skill. I had an interesting experience with a tree a few months ago that has stuck with me and that perfectly illustrates this idea. I was walking with my daughter and dog in one our city's forested areas. We came to a clearing that the city uses as a big composting lot. They dump green yard waste here in big piles and then later use the decomposed matter in landscaping. Often seeds and trimmings start to grow in these piles, too, from summer squash to fall pumpkins. On this occasion, we came across a young fig tree. We love figs and had been wanting to grow them at our house. Knowing that this tree didn't have a long future in its current location (the city would likely come to remove the decomposed green waste soon as they always do), we had the idea to transplant the tree so it could continue growing at our home. Though I told the tree about its likely future if it stayed here and about our plan to give it a loving home with us, I felt a deep-down feeling of resistance from the tree. I tried to ignore it. I wondered briefly why I wasn't getting a more positive feeling. After all, we were on a goodwill mission; what could be wrong with that? But the message I was getting — and trying to set aside as just my imagination — was that this tree didn't want to move. It was happy where it was. It was fearful of going elsewhere. It didn't take long after we got it home and repotted it on our deck that it began to die. I know this can happen to newly repotted plants. It's call transplant shock. And that's likely what was happening here, too. Except that I was still getting the deeper feeling of resistance. This tree was so resistant to change that it simply couldn't imagine a reality that took it from where it grew from seed or root all on its own. This fear was the real shock to the system and was simply overwhelming to it. Within a couple of weeks, all the leaves and branches and young shoots had shriveled and gone brown. All except for one stalk that had nearly split from its root during the transplanting! This remained green. This was the part of the tree that, deep down, was not in fear; that wanted to live no matter what. Its true spirit! We are now waiting for spring to see how this remaining part of the tree thrives. If I had listened to that initial feeling of resistance, perhaps I would have left the tree where it was growing, honoring its desire to stay put. Maybe its path was meant to be a short one, as the city did indeed bulldoze the lot just a few weeks later. By saving it from this fate, maybe I changed its planned future. But when I reported back to it what had happened to its previous home since it had left, the feeling I now got was a bit of shock at this news, then wonderment at this chain of events, then gratitude for this chance to live on. Maybe fear blocked this tree's own intuition, just as fear can do the same with ours. It's something to think about next time you get that feeling in your gut. Is it led by fear or by the deeper, truer part of yourself that knows what's best for you? That, of course, is one of the many nuances that become easier to decipher as your animal communication skills grow.
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AuthorMy name is Josh and I'm a learning animal communicator, hoping that sharing my journey will help others. Categories
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February 2020
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