Everybody can communicate with animals if they want to. Most of us do all the time, at least those of us who have animals and love them and treat them like family. Yet when the subject of “animal communication” as a special skill or profession is broached, most of us would say, “Oh nooooo, I am not nearly that gifted!”
Well you are. We all are. It just takes a little fine-tuning and a little trust in ourselves.
When I first began pursuing animal communication in a formal, structured sense I too did not believe I could do what I had seen and heard “real” animal communicators do. But I did begin studying and, in my spare time, which there was never much of in those days, would practice a little. I never thought much was happening.
But then one day my beloved horse Sailor graphically proved otherwise and helped open my eyes on a whole new world.
I was working non-stop in the corporate world at that time and also raising a kid, and Sailor was young and needed to be ridden more than I had time for. A good friend owned his brother and invited Sailor to her farm for the summer so her husband would have a healthy, young horse to ride. They rode a lot, and I totally trusted their horsemanship, so it sounded perfect.
Having been with Sailor since he was a wee babe, I began preparing him for the separation by “telling” him about the plan telepathically and by visualizing pictures of my friend’s farm and projecting those to him. I told him he was going to “summer camp” and that it would be great fun! I hoped that my messages were getting through but of course doubted that they were having any impact or being understood at all. But I was doing my best.
The day finally arrived for Sailor to embark on his summer camp experience, and another of my friends who hauled horses professionally showed up with her big stock trailer to ferry him over. Sailor hadn’t been hauled a lot but had never been a real problem to load into a trailer. That day however, his balking was unreasonable and quite lengthy.
My friend asked me to move way back out of the picture so she could use her usual tricks to get Sailor into the trailer, so I complied and went and stood by the house, half a football field away. Still Sailor balked.
All of a sudden it dawned on me that Sailor had no idea where he was going or why — I had failed to tell him. Now at that point in my development, as I have stated above, I really didn’t have any faith that anything I was conveying to Sailor was getting through, but just in case it might I thought maybe I should fill him in on what was going on. Only fair thing to do, right?
“Sailor!” I yelled, silently (didn’t want my friend to think I was crazy.) “Today is the day! Today is the day you’re going to summer camp! And Alice is here to take you. But you have to get into the trailer in order to get there. So hop in!”
Sailor swung his head around and fixed me with a long, focused gaze for a few moments. Then he wasted no time — he turned to the trailer and practically bounded over Alice to jump in!
My jaw was on the ground.
Sailor left this world a few years ago, and I still tear up when I think of him because he was such a character and taught me so much. He was one of my dreams come true. And he was definitely the proof-in-the-pudding for my my budding animal communication career.
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IF YOU’RE LIKE I WAS, AND DOUBT YOURSELF, TRY THIS:
Bless you, dear Sailor, wherever you are now.
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