Aris was waiting for me when I connected again. I remembered that I had promised to run with him last time, so immediately asked if he wanted to do that. He was initially ready to go, but then almost instantly hesitant, feeling like we missed the step of getting acquainted again. "We don't do that right away," he explained. "We talk a little, welcome the guests, then can do other things." It was a "manners" thing. "I understand, Aris," I answered. "Thank you for treating me like an honored guest!" He sat there looking a little proud and a little sheepish and uncomfortable, like he wasn't that sure about being the "host." "How have things been going since we last talked?" I asked. I feel a surge of excitement and confidence. He seems very happy with how things are going. "What has changed?" I wondered. "I'm home," he answered simply. It was a feeling of realization that he has 100% found his place in the world — among his family. With all the stories and histories and connections recently coming together and retold, it finally all feels permanent to him — and very comforting. "There's no better feeling than that, is there?" I commented. He just shook his head "No" in agreement. It felt like he was very emotional at the moment. I hugged him and really felt his gratefulness for being where he is. I was so happy for him. "Anything you want to show or tell me?" I asked. "I have this…" and he showed me what looked like a stuffed bear — brown with a yellow sweater. It feels very comforting to him. I wasn't sure if it was actually his or something that is on the bed already and he snuggles with. When I asked "Is it yours?" he didn't really understand the meaning of a possession. It was something he loved and gives him comfort and that's all that mattered. "Aris, I hear you enjoy spending time on several of the beds in the house. What do you think about having your very own bed just for you?" His ears immediately went down. He was worried that there was some reason why he wasn't wanted on the other beds. "I didn't mean you had to give up those beds. I think you're welcome on them anytime. Your mom just wants to make sure you feel like you have your own space if you want or need it. She is offering to get you your own bed if that will make you happy." I tried to picture or feel his reaction to this to gauge his interest. He was trying to picture this new bed. He wondered how big it would be — he was thinking it would be as big as the beds he uses now. I sent him a picture of something more appropriate for his size and he immediately pictured it first on the floor of one of the bedrooms, then on top of one of the beds and was wondering why he would need a smaller bed on top of a bigger one. I explained that it wasn't to use together, but he could have the new bed in any place in the house that he felt he might want to be his — his own space. I pictured a living room where the family might hang out. He sent back an image of him in the bed on the very outskirts of that room — away from all the activity, but close enough to monitor things. He was unsure how this would be for him, but was a little interested. He doesn't want to give up the big beds or those privileges. He does think it would be interesting to have a place "closer" to things. But he's not sure where that would be. "The nice part about your own bed is that it's small enough to move to almost anywhere. So if you don't like it in one spot, you can move it to another," I explained. He thought about this and felt neutral or open to the idea. He seems happy with the situation now and can't really picture how the new bed would work but is open to seeing it in action — as long as he gets to keep the other beds. "I'm pretty sure nothing else will change, Aris. Except when the kids come home, they will need their beds back." I thought I would try to work in the next question you had for him about how he feels about when the kids come home. It feels like what he likes about the kids' rooms — the feeling of being the 'nurtured child' and the feeling of youth and innocence (this is the energy he gets from the rooms) — is also what makes him feel a little uneasy when they come home. There's more energy, which can be a bit much and there's also a shift in focus from him to them. He feels a little insecure that they are the original children and will come home to replace him. "I think in your mom's eyes, you are all her children and very precious to her. No one could ever replace you, as you have a unique and permanent place in your home," I explained to him. "Have you talked with the cats about this?" Since they've been there longer, I thought maybe they would be able to coach him on this — about how it works. "They don't know what I'm talking about," he said. It feels like the cats are very secure with who they are and their place in the home. As far as they're concerned, THEY are the original kids and all others are outsiders. In other words, they are not threatened by visits from the human kids. They go where they want and do what they want in the house just because they are cats. Whereas Aris hangs out in the kids' bedrooms partly because he is trying to feel like he is one of the kids with a permanent place in the family. I was going to explain some of this to Aris to make sure he understood things correctly, but he indicated he has listened and watched all of these thoughts and mini-conversations with the cats as I've had them, so he understands without more explanation. "I will need to think about it more," he said. "Aris, last time we talked you helped me understand your feelings around eating the cats' food. Your mom says the cats seem fine with this and that even you seem comfortable with it. Was there another reason you brought it up?" I immediately get the feeling of shame and see him mirror that feeling with his expression. "Maybe I shouldn't be taking their food. What if they're hungry? I don't want to seem ungrateful about my own food. I should just be happy with whatever I get," he said sort of in a stream of consciousness. This was similar to my first conversation with him where he had several thoughts flood in at once. "It's just a feeling that won't go away," he explained. It didn't feel like a big feeling, but the kind that is in the back of your mind, enough to promote some doubt every once in a while. I assured him, "After talking with your mom and hearing your story, I know this is something you can let go of completely. No one minds if you take some of the cats' food. They all are happy to share with you because they love you, just like you would share with them." I added that last part because when I checked in with him, it felt like he would share in an instant, without a thought. I continued, "In families, members often share things. It can be fun to taste what the other has or to play with their toys or even sleep in their spot sometimes." I wondered if I was getting off-track with this explanation, so thought of him in his previous foster home with other dogs and there was more of a competitiveness and a feeling of "getting there first and keeping things away from the other" rather than a sharing culture. So it makes sense that he would be feeling this way and comparing it to the only other family situation he's experienced. I was going to explain more, but I felt like it was already in good hands with mom, who would do plenty of reassuring. I sort of mentally posed the final question about how Aris feels about finding this home, and he sent back: "What more needs to be said?" His meaning was that we've covered it in many small ways already in the stories we've told. Each piece helps create the full picture. And with this, he gives me the more expansive view of a jigsaw puzzle. He feels his life was "just pieces coming together" before he found here. It was events and experiences and connections that were all playing out as planned, leading up to this point. He explains that, like a jigsaw puzzle, you usually work on the border first because it provides the structure and the foundation for everything else. That's what he did leading up to finding this home — he put all the pieces in place to create the border. Once that was done, he could breathe with relief because it was complete. He could see the outline of his life. There was no longer a question about the shape or form. He found his place and now gets to enjoy the process of filling in the puzzle with all the wonderful colors and shapes and interlocking experiences — his own mosaic of his life. He feels so grateful and at ease — a big sigh of relief that the big unknowns are out of the way and he can move forward with more peace of mind. In a way, he knows now there is a happy ending to his story, so he can breathe that sigh of relief. "I know there are still plenty of unknowns, but those are different ones," he said. "Different kinds — the good kinds. I get to explore those with my family." And he says this with extreme pride and happiness. Feeling this come from him, I didn't feel anything more needed to be said. It was a joyful moment and I was so happy for him! When the moment felt right again, I showed Aris my running shoes. He perked up, remembering that was part of the plan. I saw one of the puzzle pieces fall into place just inside the border — just one of his many experiences creating his life. He led me out the door to show me where he runs. I wondered if he needed to wait for his mom, as last time he felt he needed to. This time, it felt like he had grown past that and had the confidence to show me on his own. We whizzed down a dirt road with golden vegetation on either side, like you would find in a drier climate. Aris took great strides and went very fast, though he still looked like he was in slow motion because of his lanky body. We arrive at a clearing with grass. It looked like it bordered a channel with water, maybe something created to irrigate crops rather than a natural river? Aris seemed very at ease and happy running from here to there, showing me places he often visits. It didn't feel like an actual experience based in time, but an "endless moment" that Aris created where we could just run and explore without restrictions. I could feel the warmth of the sun and the good cheer of the scene. It felt happy. So I left the conversation and interaction just like that — open-ended so there would be no formal goodbyes. This was a moment that could live on forever in time even as we individually carried on with our own lives. The ultimate "happy place."
2 Comments
LYNN
4/3/2020 01:20:47 pm
Hi Josh - was feeling bit blocked with regard to my communication and wondering how or what I could do next with my communications to try advance and get more out of my chats so I went to your site and had a look at some journals. I came across yours and was interested to see how you started. (Pretty much like I am at now). I love the way you have done your chats. How you stagger them over a couple of days (ie getting to know them/gaining their trust/beginning a conversation. Such a lovely idea (I was looking for a way to be more relaxed and have fun and keep it simple - so I think I might try that with my chats now. I also like the way you see the chat from the animals point of view (ie when you chattered to a sausage dog and saw life from his his eye view. Thank you for this very inspiring and gives me a fresh look at how to structure my chats so it can flow.
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Josh
4/6/2020 06:11:20 am
Lynn, I'm really happy that my experiences have given you a new perspective to try out — exactly why I share them! Great job in recognizing that sometimes you simply need to shift your approach when things aren't working the way you'd like with one method. Way better than just giving up or thinking you can't do this. Best wishes on your continued progress and expansion!
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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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