Marinara is a sweet, gentle Schnauzer who I see at a rescue I volunteer at weekly. I've known her for a year, which means she's been there that long. Her siblings have all been adopted long ago. But she has an injury near her tail that caused her to lose sensation in that area. She can't feel when it's time to go to the bathroom and she can't wag her tail, making her a difficult one to adopt. "Hi Marinara!" I opened. "Josh!" she exclaimed excitedly. "I didn't know you knew my name," I was trying to think how she would know such a thing. She looked sheepish, then admitted she really didn't. "Then how did you know to say it?" I asked. "When we connected, you gave it to me. It was on your mind when you were wondering if I would know you and if I even knew your name. So I used it, but it doesn't quite feel right because I don't know you as Josh." "How do you know me, then?" I asked. "As the man in brown. The kind man. The gentle man." The "brown" part was referring to the jacket I always wear to the rescue. "Thank you for that perception, Marinara. And you know my daughter, too." "She is also kind and gentle and very loving." She emphasized "very." "We always wonder if you or the other dogs remember us or distinguish us from other visitors. You all seem to get equally excited when anyone shows up — even the delivery man." "Yes, we are dogs. We love. We get excited. Energy overtakes us, bubbles over whenever we have the chance. But when we take a moment, underneath all the energy, we recognize and remember." "Today is Friday, Marinara. Normally, we would be coming to visit. But I don't think we are able to today. I'm sorry." I thought she might be sad about this news. Instead, she maintained her high spirits and I realized being sad about something like that is probably a human thing. Dogs tend to focus on this moment, what's exciting right now. "When will you be here?" she asked. "Next week for sure." I promised. I got the strange feeling that, while she asked "When will you be here?" she already knew the answer to the question and was just asking out of formality and the sake of conversation. I could almost see my questions and then the answers formulate in my head and it's at that moment, when I'm visualizing them, that she is able to pick up on that information, too. This all happens even before I vocalize it or write it down. This makes sense, because when I have these conversations, I do so as I'm typing. It doesn't feel like automatic writing, where someone else is typing through you and you have no idea where things are going. It's more like I'm in conversation mode, my mind is open to hearing, I ask the questions in my head and then hear the reply. Then I write it down. Sometimes this happens almost simultaneously. "Marinara, do you feel like talking now?" "Yes!" At first, I thought I would start by asking how she is, how she feels. But instead, I ended up trying a body scan. It felt like her teeth could use some cleaning. Her energy felt a bit worn out, like she was tired of always having to work with so much energy where she lives. I could feel her back-end as being numb. I could feel it was there, but the sensations were dulled and I didn't have much control over it. When I focused more on that area, I saw what looked like a colored x-ray of the tail area and spine connecting it. There was a white hole at one point and everything after that point sort of flopped down. I assume that is the injured area. I asked Marinara to show me how this injury happened. I first saw a big dog biting her there. But I thought that would be too easy for my mind to make that up. So I asked to see more clearly and then I saw her fall off of something as a puppy. There was lots of commotion and many other dogs and they were all scampering away from someone coming into the space, which seemed like an old school bus that was on someone's property. It seemed like she was on a countertop of some sort with some other dogs and in the commotion, fell off. I also discounted this visual. I really wanted to be sure of what I was seeing. I again asked for clarity. Then Marinara said, "If you aren't seeing it, then maybe there's nothing to see." "Well clearly something happened to you," I answered. "But maybe it doesn't matter anymore. Maybe I don't remember. Maybe I don't want to remember. I am here now in this place with this body and this personality. Isn't that what matters most?" "Yes, but sometimes if you can trace the root, you can help a current situation." "The root is the beginning of why I am here. It was a step along the way. It is important because it brought me to this moment. Now, in this moment, I am to decide what to do next. That's all that matters!" I could see that she had a point. It came back to living in the moment versus all the stuff humans do in their heads. Perhaps I just wasn't meant to explore her past like that. Perhaps there was a block for some other reason. I let it go. "Marinara, you have lived here for a year now. How are you holding up?" I asked. Again, I immediately thought that that was certainly a question from a human perspective and something an animal would never focus on. Nonetheless, I felt her energy. It was still buoyant, but worn. "It's safe here," she said. The atmosphere (all the dogs and activity) is familiar. It's what I've always known." I think she may have come from a home where there were lots of dogs. "I am meant for somebody," she said before I could go there. "Someone with a kind heart will come and will understand the physical struggles from personal experience. We will both know it as right." "It sounds like you have faith that all will work out," I marveled. To which she answered, "It will work that way no matter how much anyone worries about it, frets over it, stresses out. So why not skip that process and focus on right now." "I understand animals tend to think that way. But there are definitely animals who seem to get stressed and worried. What are they doing?" I was thinking of the chihuahuas we often see at the rescue, many of whom are always scared. "We are built that way — hard-wired — to mirror those around us. There's a reason certain dogs or breeds react a certain way — and why certain people are drawn to them. It's a learning process, setup that way from the start." I thought I would ask about a related topic. "When we first met you, you were calm and sweet. It's why we fell in love with you! But for a while, you were living with Buddy (another small, very sweet dog) and your personality changed to one with lots of nervous energy. On the outside, it didn't seem like Buddy was like that. Now that Buddy has been adopted, you are back to being calmer and more grounded. What happened?" I was about to write what I perceived to hear — about how it was because she was moved with Buddy to a new space that was more secluded and it felt cut-off from everyone else and it was Buddy's energy that caused her to react that way. But I tried to settle my mind more and feel what Marinara was feeling at the time. I just wasn't trusting the "story" I was getting. I could then see her slightly embarrassed and like she had been caught in a white lie and she said, "Ok, it wasn't the space or Buddy. The energy was coming from me." It felt like in an instant I understood the whole story, but I let her explain. "This was the first time I was in a space with just one other dog. All the other places I lived (at the rescue) were with groups of dogs. I love Buddy and it was a good pairing for us. He has good energy! But I knew it was only a matter of time before he would be adopted since he doesn't have the physical issues I have. I didn't want it to end (rooming with Buddy) but the nervous energy built everyday, wondering if that would be the day he would leave and I would be left behind. I couldn't help the feeling. Now that he's gone, that energy has also gone." I asked, "Doesn't this go against what you explained earlier about worrying about the future?" "Yes and no," she answered, then explained further. "The energy may have been connected to a future event, but it still played out in the present. It still was connected to what I thought about a lot in the moment. With every sound or bark or car noise, we wonder what it is. We react in the moment. When you add up all those now moments where I was on edge about what *is* happening, it made my whole experience energetically out-of-whack." "I think I understand how that works, as our own dog does similar things." I said. I had some other things to do, so thought I would wind-down the conversation. But I wanted to make sure things were truly okay for her. "Marinara, does that mean you are alright? I shouldn't worry about you?" "Worry? I think we just talked about that," she said with a little twinkle. "But no, don't worry. I am well cared for here and my time will come. The wheels are in motion." I got a flash of the Quantum Field Connection on the Speak! site. I had posted Marinara there to try and gather enough positive energy to help her situation. Maybe it was already working. "Ok, I'm glad to hear it. Savanna and I love you so much and want to make sure you find the perfect home for you." I'm not sure how it's possible for a dog to blush, but that's the image I got. "We'll see you next week, okay?" "I can't wait!" she exclaimed. And though her tail in real life doesn't work, I clearly could see it wagging furiously in my connection with her. That made me happy.
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