When I was young, animal communication was something I truly believed I was having with all my animal pals. But, it wasn't until many years later, when I watched a clip taken from a documentary about a south african animal communicator - this woman tuned in to animals and expressed for them in a way I'd never experienced; I realised I'd been having myself on.
Sure, sure, I had deep empathy and symptathy for my non-speaking loved ones my entire life, and I was a doting and clever friend to them, but I'd tended to speak 'over the top of them', ignoring their true truths because my ‘I know best’ bossiness was louder in my mind. I’d been brainwashed into belittling them.
One of my favourite stories back then was of Dr Dolittle. Anthropomorphic in nature, the story showed the animals ‘talking’ like humans. And it wasn’t just that one. Simba the white lion, Charlotte's web. Just about every book and movie I could devour as a kid was about animals or kids in nature. But the content was either anatomical / physiological, scientific method type stuff or, 'animal on a quest' as depicted through that very narrow human like lens. To break free of this anthropocentric fantasy realm can be challenging for most - we really do believe the stories we've been spoon fed by people who comply with 'systems' that don't necessarily have our collective best interests at heart.
Watching that little clip of animal communicator Anna Breytenbach listening to a leopard (click on the 'Shout out' tab for more of amazing Anna), sent me into a two week stupor. I was deeply ashamed of the countless opportunities I'd missed, to consciously listen to my furred and feathered friends when they could have really done with a sympathetic ear; my tiny anthropocentric jigsaw puzzle piece finally got tossed away into my 'crappy false beliefs' pile after watching the first minute of that doco.
Fortunately for me, a couple of years after committing myself to remembering how to tune in to the voices of non-humans, I was offered the opportunity to receive experiential teachings from Anna over the course of several years. These immersions have opened glorious doorways for me, leading to incredible experiences getting to know both my non-human brethren and also that rare species of genuine communicators who are capable of parting with their subjective, human centred lens.
It's changed my life like nothing else in ways words simply cannot describe. Delving into that realm has made it even more challenging for me to live in close proximity to the chaotic dissonance of 'modern life'. This dissonant energy tends to suck our life forces - if we're not connected to the hum of nature's non-human life, our body (and our biofield) suffer. Most humans are effectively living in a state of disconnected suffering - what my body feels when tuned in to it is 'melancholia'.
That said, remembering and witnessing and practising the art of animal communication has grounded me in to this earthly experience like nothing else, enabling a tolerance of and love for my fellow humans like never before. It's truly expanded and empowered my consciousness.
My capacity to embrace everything my non-human compadres have to offer me has become limitless. With far less drama, far more honesty, rawness and realness than humans (who just looooove a story), the non-human world (for me) lives closer to 'god's will' than that of we struggling humans. Our biofield information tends to be more convoluted and nuanced.
My tune ins are a blend of somatic, intuitive and minded sensations which absorb and manifest mostly as feelings in my body and visions in a particular 'place' in my head's mind. Words and phrases do come, but they're not necessary for me in order to receive from an animal (or a plant, or an elemental).
I feel there is often something lost in the translation if it's a non-human tune in I've been asked to do on behalf of a human because my primary language is English and only humans speak English. Having to describe what I'm sensing and receiving from a non-human to a human can be challenging for me because of this.
That said, I still use the English language when I'm communicating with non-human beings but I support the words I'm thinking (or saying) with focused pictures and imagined sensations. Saying 'today' or 'tomorrow' or 'next month' to a non-human can't be understood by them because they don't see 'time' the same way as I've been taught to describe it, so I need to express 'time' to them visually and somatic-ly.
Despite the fact that they know what's truly going on inside me and my head, the trick is to turn down the volume of my mind chatter and quietly have a focused communication from a very specific pace in my 'mind', so 1. They aren't being bombarded with bullshit, and 2. I can actually hear what they really have to say - the language of non-humans is completely fresh and very invigorating!
Recognising the openness and honesty in communicating with non-human beings lovingly forces me (by default) to see beyond the dishonest facade of the human beings I engage with at a therapeutic level. Animals (especially the wild ones) don't lie to themselves like we domesticated beings can. Most humans have taken on board some monumental lies, most importantly (I believe), the ones about about our true capacity to participate in the unseen realms here in earth - participation in life.
Believing these lies has separated and disempowered we humans but when we acknowledge these opportunities to participate, we start to meet beings in our world who have been waiting patiently and non-judgmentally for us to join back in. This world within our world is a very cut and dry world where most beings know their place and how to be present in every moment. The dense body is merely a place of residence for the 'spirit' and the 'soul' - there's reverence but rarely attachment to the vehicle. This reverence allows for maximum 'performance' when living, and the dis-attachment allows for minimum angst when 'dying' - often the opposite is true for the human experience.
My desire to coexist in honourable, close proximity with my untamed non-human kin sees me having a lot of solo adventures and making choices that are weird and uncompromising. Encouraging spiders to live alongside me and take out the mosquitoes and bugs rather than bug spray (which kills ALL of us btw) is just the tippy tip of my ice-berg of 'true ecologically beneficial practices'. Teaming up with my non-human community to work towards balance together makes me feel like I'm hanging with the winners.
Sure, teaming with cool human peeps to pull off something amazing brings me an adrenaline high and a delightful smugness, but co-creating through considerate consultation with non-human co-creators makes me beam with self satisfaction and pride.
