There's No Magic to Animal Communication
Sometimes, communicating with animals feels like magic, and sometimes the magic doesn’t work. That’s because there’s no magic.
The following encounter serves as a cautionary tale about the nuances of communicating with animals who have several caregivers.
A lovely little mixed breed dog named Sandy had stolen the heart of a volunteer, Jenn, at the shelter where Sandy had been placed. Jenn asked me if there was anything she could do to help this little dog, who trembled with apparent fear and who seemed to be stuck. Opening to Sandy, I learned that she desperately wanted to be held and feel the warmth of another body. Several days later, Jenn asked me to look in again, and when I did, I found a very happy little dog. I wrote to Jenn as I communed with Sandy.
I check in with Sandy and see her blissfully lying down on her back, singing to herself about how happy and warm she is. If feels as if she were in a Turkish bath wrapped in a big fluffy white towel, all safe and warm and she is musing to herself, lost in a world of delight.
I ask her if she would like to tell you what has made this wonderful difference and remind her how concerned you are about her.
She says, “Oh, the world is full of surprises. I am suddenly in a world where caring is everywhere, where what I want is no longer absent. I have food and warmth.” She emphasizes this, as it is almost everything to her. She continues, “And there are beings here who treat me with tenderness.”
“Let me tell you and her” (she is speaking to me and includes you) “something about how acceptance can change everything. When we hold onto our fear, we perceive everything through the veil of fear; fear itself is a terrible curse, a cold, shivering fog that does not allow any other perception to manifest. Only fear. I don’t know what has made the difference for me and it isn’t important to me. I am happy. Warm.”
She sort of does a little dance of delight and then settles back down into her virtual Turkish towel.
I ask her if she needs anything from me.
“No,” she says, “I am fine. Thank you very much.” She goes back to sleep, smiling, very happy, deeply content.
After receiving my emailed transcript of my conversation with Sandy, Jenn told me that although it was heartening to see that Sandy seemed to feel good, other volunteers at the shelter reported that Sandy’s apparent fear and discomfort was unabated after my communication with her.
This was crucial feedback for me, and it served as a specific example of how natural law is at work: intuitive communication takes place in non-linear reality. There are no swimming lanes; we are in the whole pool. Molecules of water from right, left, above, and below splash around us, and we must keep our focus sharp so we don’t veer away from our intended direction.
When I communicated with Sandy, Jenn’s love for her was part of the stream of consciousness Sandy and I shared. Sandy’s feeling of comfort was a result and an expression of Jenn’s care. Other volunteers may have brought with them certain feelings that did not help Sandy feel safe.
Another instance of the “magic” not working showed itself in an interesting session: a client of mine sent me a photo. The dog with whom she wished me to communicate was in the foreground, but way in the back was another dog. During the session, I heard, very distinctly, the voice of the other dog, who commented about the dog in question. Years later my client mentioned that the reading had not resonated with what she knew and felt about her dog, but that she hadn’t said anything at the time because she knew I was doing my best. I believe that it’s likely that the information that didn’t resonate was really coming from the background dog. I now cut out all other beings from photos my clients send me.