Thursday, July 1, 2010

Letting Go

One of the hardest decisions we humans have to make with our animal friends is knowing when it is time to let go.  What a strange thing it is to have this power over another life, and a life we care about so much.  Strange especially because in our society, death is often an unsure, scary thing, and we feel immense guilt over the possibility of making the wrong decision for our friends.

I was faced with this decision myself this winter as my cat struggled to leave this life.  She was clearly at the end, but the message she kept giving me was "I can do this, I don't need help yet."  How hard that can be to hear when we watch our friends apparently suffering!  I kept asking "are you sure?"  I even called a communicator friend to double check.  Haley's response to me was "it isn't how it looks to you."  Ok, I'm learning that many things aren't what I think they are in life, but this seemed pretty clear cut.  She went on to explain that there is a process of leaving the body, leaving this earth, that is very important in the animal kingdom.  Most animals view death quite differently from we humans, and for them it is simply a transition out of the physical plane into the etheric - a change of state, something like when a liquid becomes a gas, but is still composed of the same atoms (please don't let my high school chemistry teacher read this sorry comparison!).

The body is a shell, nothing more.. 

The animals have learned what is so very hard for we humans - that we are not our bodies.  We are something much greater.  A Divine spark, a soul, a energetic being so complex that the greatest minds have tried to pin down this essence, describe it, and found words paltry and useless.   

So, if it isn't how it looks to me, how is it??  Transitioning can be tricky, it can involve the tying up of loose ends, the coming to terms with things undone, the setting right, the permission of the human or animal friends to let go, or simply, the readying of one's self to go.  It is an important process, and because humans are someone detached from this process with our scientific and religious "brain information" often leading the way, it is hard for us to grasp.  Or maybe it's just hard to grasp until you've been there.  I think my grandfathers both went through something like this, each in their own way.  It didn't look painful in their cases, but it's not in every animal's case either.  I thought I saw suffering, but what Haley was telling me, was that she had moved beyond physical pain to a great extent.  The crying and movements of her body were her soul's efforts at detaching - some animals seem to be more in their body's than others and find it takes more effort to let go.  It is almost like the struggle of a butterfly to break free from its cocoon or a chick to hatch from its egg, and the journey is different for each soul.

This was radical news to me, but not the only time I've heard it by any means.  It is repeated over and over by numerous animals and communicators, and even in human hospices and hospitals.  Dying is a personal process, and not for us to judge.  The tricky thing is that when it comes to our pets, we sometimes do have to judge.  This is where intuitive communication is such a tremendous gift - it give the ability to tune into what the animal's soul is saying, to move past the anxiety, grief, and fear of our worried human brains.  The animals tell me that we often rush them, our desire to not see them suffer pushes them faster than they'd like to go.  On the other hand, they are usually ok with this and fully understand WHY we rush, they are tolerant of our fear.  I rushed Haley - not too much, but I did. I finally could not take it any more, and asked her again if she needed help, and she said it would be ok to have some help.  I knew it was time, the vet knew it was time, and Haley knew it was time, she was just a little drawn out in the process.  When I connected with her after it was over, several days later, she told me she was very near the end when the vet came, and that it was alright.  She transitioned easily and was doing fine.  If I could give that feeling of relief, of gratitude, to everyone, everywhere, I would gladly do it.  What gifts they give to us, and continue to give, even in another form.  Know that when the time comes, if you have to make a decision to help your friend to cross over, you will do the right thing.  Help is there if you need it, but above all, listen to your heart, it feels what your friend needs, and you will not go wrong.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Solstice

Now the soft hour
Of walking comes; for him who lonely loves
To seek the distant hills, and there converse
With Nature, there to harmonize his heart,
And in pathetic Song to breathe around
The harmony to others.

-   Thomson, Seasons. Summer. L. 1,378.

I've been sitting here on my deck in the evening air, enjoying a break from the day's heat and listening to the birds give their last hurrah before sleep. This time of the day, when the air cools down and the animal and insect world gets suddenly active in the few hours before dark, is full of magic and energy. I can't help thinking about my cat Haley, and how much she loved being out on this deck in the evening. Haley was an indoor cat, necessitated by her having been de-clawed by her first human companion, and it wasn't until I moved to this place with its relatively safe and contained deck that she got a taste of the great outdoors. It may sound funny to say a cat could look blissful, but truly there is no other word for her expression while soaking up the sun or moonlight and watching the world float by. I felt so guilty bringing her in so I could go to sleep!

I'm thinking about Haley a lot these days, she died this past January of bone cancer, and thinking also of all the other animal and human departures that have influenced my little world so far this year. There have been a particularly high number of dear animal friends deciding it was time to cross over, and this has led me to more than the usual amount of pondering on the uncertainty of life and death, and how we live the one and transition to the other. In every animal I've known who has made this journey, and most personally in my cat, I witnessed amazing grace, love, and strength. I have learned so much from them all that I now feel able to find tremendous gifts both in their lives and in their presence in the other world. After the sadness dissipates a bit, there is as much to be learned from how one leaves this life, as there is in how one lives in it.

So, a few future posts here will be about transitions and the things I've learned from those animals and people whose passage to the next world I've been honored to witness. Death is something we don't really like to talk about, but it is part of living, and in the case of our pets, we make a choice to love and live with a being who is in all likelihood not going to be here as long as we are. What an a amazingly beautiful commitment that is to make, what a gift to share that small life for a short while, and how hard when reality comes. Unfortunately, all that not-talking-about-it leaves us ill-equipped to cope when we face the death of a loved one, or even, ultimately ourselves.

Now that I've gone and started on this topic, I'll leave it tonight with some things that have brought me comfort in these last few months of saying goodbye to so many. Each life is precious, and each matters hugely to someone, or something, somewhere. In our tiny little lives it's easy to get lost in the loss, and forget the wonder of being here at all. So tonight, as you go to sleep, take a little minute to be thankful for the wonder, for each of those stars that has shone in your life, and know, without a doubt, that they are with you always.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Together

Like most everyone else, I've been horrified by the disastrous oil spill in the Gulf. This is a catastrophe on many levels, but the saddest visible effect has been the images of oil overtaking the region's fragile ecosystem. As humans, we alone among all species on the planet have the power to create, and we use that gift to do amazing things. Sometimes, however, we get so busy creating we forget to slow down and consider the power of what we do. Obviously the human impact of this crisis is immense, and I don't want to discount that in any way. But, part of the human impact IS the impact this and other environmental accidents have on the animal and plant kingdoms. We are all tied tenuously together on this rather small planet, and perhaps our greatest responsibility as the "most advanced" species is to be careful stewards of those who depend on us.

We often get fooled into thinking that we have power over the plants and animals and therefore can do whatever we wish, since obviously we know better than they do. What we forget is that even the smallest life thinks and feels, and has a contribution to make. Look at the honey bee, which is facing drastic population decline and potential extinction. Without bees, a critical link in our food chain, our entire ecosystem even, disappears. We can also bring mindful stewardship to our own homes in how we care for our pets. When we consider their perspective, consider their quality of life, our bond with them increases and both of our lives improve. Anyone with a frustrated or lonely dog who is busily destroying their house knows well the dangers of an unhappy dog trying to express itself or "self comfort"! When we choose to bring animals into our human families, we do need to consider their feelings, and their needs. Dogs and cats are not people. They do not have the same perspective on things that humans do, and it's important to take the time to understand how your pet thinks so that you can help it to cope with our busy human world. There are many great books on this now, and people like Cesar Millan are slowly bringing this concept more into the mainstream. Still, there is lingering resistance to the idea that our animals think or feel at all. I find this remarkable since most any pet owner will tell you how clever their pet is, and the amazing way the animal seems to know what their owner is thinking, or vice versa. Still, animals having thoughts and feelings gets us into a realm many people are vaguely uncomfortable with. When a new client comes to me to help them communicate with their animal and expresses doubts or feelings of "I want to believe in this, but I can't til I see it happen", I let them know that it is totally okay and reasonable to question everything - actively communicating with our pets is not, at this point in time, something most of us do consciously everyday. Part of the goal of a session is for the pet's human and I to work together to build trust between us so that we can both be open to what the animal is telling us.

My hope in helping people to build a stronger bond with their animals, and thereby the planet around them, is that we stay open minded to possibility and consider the full impact of each choice we make. It does make a difference, one small step at a time.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

What It's Like

The question that I'm asked most often is "what's talking to an animal actually like?" People want to know how it feels to talk to another creature who doesn't speak English - or "speak" at all in the way we understand. If you talk to different communicators you will quickly discover that we all "hear" a bit differently. Often this is due to each person having particular strengths in their own way of connecting with the world. Some of us hear words quite literally and clearly, others have sensations or feelings, others are visual and get complex pictures. I find I get a combination of these, depending on the information being given, and it seems the animal knows what I need to understand what they are trying to say. While visualization has always come easily to me, sometimes understanding what a cat or dog is trying to show me isn't so easy, since their perspective is quite different from mine. I most often hear words - much like a conversation with a human. Combined with these will come sensations, feelings in my body based on what the animal is saying. Sometimes its an emotion like joy, sadness, anger, sometimes a physical feeling like pain, stiffness, tingling, etc. There have been smells and sounds, and there have been tactile sensations. For example, a human once asked me to find out where in the house was her dog's favorite place to sleep, as they were moving some furniture and wanted him to be comfortable. I saw the color blue, and felt something soft and furry against my face. Sure enough, he had a cushion with a blue fake fur cover. It was actually being washed and he was annoyed it had disappeared and wanted to be sure it would be in the new decorating scheme!

Talking to me must be for them a bit like speaking to someone who is just learning a language you have spoken all your life. A bit like me trying to use my pitiful college German, dictionary in hand. Sometimes they deliver concepts all in one bunch, or speak in rapid-fire words and picture, and I have to pick through and try to sort it out, asking for clarification and to slooow it down. A wonderful communicator I know always say "give it to me like I'm a kindergardener". While this can be challenging, especially when talking to a human at the same time and trying to translate between the two, plus connect to the animal, the three-way conversation style of session does give the owner a chance to get a feeling for what it's like to talk to their animal directly. As I go back and forth, they hear me translate their animal's sense of humor, irony, sadness, etc and they can see that often when they ask a question the animal is answering even before the words are all out of their mouth. Or, if they ask me to tell their animal something such as that they love them, the animal will often reply with, "yes, I know that already." This helps us really get that our animals are communicating with us all the time, and we with them. Also, if an animal tells me something that makes no sense, in describing it to the human companion we can often determine together what to ask for clarification. A blue furry bed, for example, meant nothing to me but that owner knew right away what I was being shown.

The most important piece is to know that everyone has the ability to talk to the animals in their lives - domestic, wild, or somewhere in between. For me, I choose to spend more time learning the language than some of us do, but that's ok - by partnering with animals and their human friends we can all get an idea of what it's like to talk to the animals, and to feel closer to our furry family members.