The secret to talking with animals and nature is to always pay attention. The language of silence is subtle and needs our radar alert to the fleeting moments that could enrich our lives so much, if only we were aware of them. This is especially important now, when time appears so short and every moment filled with busyness. It’s now, more than ever, that we need to listen.
Not only do animals need us to listen, but they can be very helpful. One tiny brown sparrow saved me hours of work in our front paddock where I shovelled horse manure in an effort to make it pristine for a potential house buyer.
“They’re not coming,” said the sparrow, as she hopped around on the ground beside me.
Suki, our black border collie/kelpie, was a terrific pair of ears for us when we were selling. “One couple thought the house was charming,” she told me when I tuned in on the way home one afternoon. “And there are people looking over the front gate now.” I met them at our gate and was able to show them around.
Suki also helped me find a broken water pipe on our property by very subtly suggesting I follow her. She guided me more than told me, and let me find it on my own. But without her, I would never have come across it.
The voices of the animals can come in the form of this subtle niggling, or the thoughts of that animal constantly in your mind. Other times it’s as clear as human conversation.
Suki came to be with us by mentally yelling “Save me!” as I walked into the vet surgery where she was. I looked around to see who had spoken to find a tiny black puppy in a cage with a sign that read: “2 days to go.”
Recently I came home from a conference to find Twylah, my German Shepherd/retriever with a huge hunk of hair missing from her rump.
“What happened?” I asked her in the silent language.
“I have a hurt,” she replied.
“I see that. How did you get it?”
“I’m not telling you,” she said, embarrassed.
I let it go for a few minutes, and then received an image of one of our bay horses taking a bite out of her for barking at him. No wonder she was embarrassed.
Often when an animal has met me – either physically or psychically – I will get messages from them involuntarily. I start thinking about them a lot. But I’m not thinking about them – they’re trying to contact me.
Jaffah, a red Arab mare troubled my thoughts with distress from the moment her person responded to my tentative search for a new pony mate for my 44-year-old pony. I knew Jaffah was wrong for Sebastian, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. We were deep in drought, had no water and little feed, but I had to say “yes”. The distress in my mind stopped. Three days after the arrival of Jaffah and her paddock mate Maverick, the Canberra fires erupted and their paddock was burnt to a crisp.
Like people, some animals can be very chatty and others aren’t. Sebastian, my very elderly pony, has always been very talkative and has a great sense of humour. When I was learning Parelli Natural Horsemanship, Bastie asked me what I was doing. I wriggled the rope I was training him with and explained that I was teaching him a new language.
“How primitive,” he mused.
I found Bastie lying down one night, something he never does. As soon as I wondered if his time had come, I heard “I am quite well.” And to my relief, in 24 hours, he was.
To practice your telepathic facility with your animal companions:
- Mentally call them to you. When you call an animal by their name, it gets their attention. A cat or dog might appear asleep when you are communicating with them, but they still can converse in the silent language.
- Practice sending one question with your intent. It might be as simple as “hello, how are you?” Or “what would you like for dinner?”
- Write the answers you receive in your communication journal. The secret is not to think about it, just write the first thing that comes into your mind.
- Understand your strengths. Telepathy can be received in the form of images, feelings, words and intuitive knowing. So don’t be alarmed if you don’t receive words at first.
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© Billie Dean, 2003. All rights reserved. No part of this article may be reproduced in any format without prior written permission.
Originally Published in Conscious Living
