Communicating
From The Heart By
Karen Craft When
I was a very young child, I remember running to my mother in tears,
wailing about what I’d discovered about our family dog: “Kerry
can’t talk!” This revelation
was profoundly disturbing to me. But nearly forty years later, I’ve
now proven to myself that I, and the adults who were amused by my
innocent childhood distress, was completely wrong. For
years I had heard about people who could converse with animals and was
fascinated by the idea. I decided it might be possible for certain
gifted telepaths but I certainly wasn’t one of them. Then I
discovered the books of Penelope Smith, whom many consider to be the
founding mother of interspecies communication. I eagerly read, When
Animals Speak and marveled at Penelope’s insistence that
anyone with an open heart and mind can learn to hear our fellow
travelers. In
her book, Penelope boldly states the most amazing concepts; I came to
love her take-it-or-leave-it
tone. Along with her primary topics of interspecies telepathic
communication and our spiritual bond with animals and the natural
world, Penelope casually mentions interdimensional travelers, alien
beings, nature spirits, fairies, and of course, angels. These are all
within the realm of her personal experience. And her tales of
telepathic conversations with animals!…I realized true connection
with animals was a large missing chunk of my spiritual life, but as
much as I wanted to believe Penelope, I needed to experience it for
myself before I could be sure.
I
contacted professional communicator Susan Marino and arranged a phone
consultation with her about our large and boisterous animal family.
She intrigued and flattered me by saying, “all
our four-legged kids are very special beings.”
Of Connery, one of the two gray tiger kittens my husband and I
adopted, she said, “Ohhhh,
he’s an old soul…with a sense of humor!”
she added with a chuckle. I felt a thrill when she talked about him.
More than any of our other animal companions to that date, I’d known
those kittens were meant to be with us. They’d come from a small
traveling circus that was spending the summer in central Iowa; our
kitty-boys were born and grew to weaning age in a crate next to the
tiger’s cage. I’d been led to find them before they were even
born, though that’s another story. A few months after Susan made her
comments about Connery, he gave me a stunning surprise. As he was
washing his paw one day, I bent over to stroke him. He locked eyes
with me with such intensity I was frozen in place. Then I heard him
say, “Trust me.” Those
words telepathically transmitted to me by one of my own beloved cats
set me on a quest for training. I was determined to find a teacher who
could help me hear Connery and all my other friends on a regular
basis, not only when I was shocked into mental stillness. I wanted
animal communication to be an everyday occurrence for me instead of an
occasional bolt from the blue. I attended workshops and learned a
great deal, but I still wasn’t clicking into the right frame of
mind. Then I got an e-mail from a communicator pen pal telling me the
woman who had trained her was going to give a rare Midwest workshop.
She told me Dawn Hayman would be teaching a class only eight hours
from me. Among the hundreds of marvelous stories in Penelope’s book,
some of my favorites are the ones she tells about her friend, Dawn
Hayman, co-founder of Spring Farm CARES, a not-for-profit domestic
animal sanctuary in New York state. Every time I’d read anything
about interspecies communication, two names inevitably mentioned were
Penelope Smith and Dawn Hayman. Now I had a chance to learn from Dawn.
So
six weeks later, a friend and I drove to the St. Louis area through an
unseasonable April snow blowing across the highway. Our determination
was tested but we survived the snow and getting lost several times and
finally we arrived at Hidden Heights Retreat, a lovely, hilly, wooded
acreage owned by June Wartenbe. Her several dogs and many horses would
provide us with communication practice. On
Friday evening, workshop participants filled June’s living room.
Nearly thirty of us gathered in a circle of chairs around Dawn, who
was casually dressed with none of the flamboyance or crystal jewelry
I’d encountered with some of my past holistic or psychic teachers.
In fact, she seemed a little shy and guarded. But then she began to
talk to us and sharing her stories, jokes and adventures brought light
into her eyes. She told us how she’d resisted owning her psychic
talents for fear of ridicule and being considered “different.”
Telepathic communications would come to her during mindless activities
like pumping gas — I thought it was the fumes! I found it reassuring
that someone, who’d been working professionally as a communicator
for nearly ten years, could admit it still feels it’s in her
imagination. That is, until she gets information from the animal that
can be confirmed only by the astonished owner. Dawn has clients
worldwide who trust her ability to talk with their animal companions
and help pinpoint health or behavioral problems and try to negotiate
solutions for them. Her consultations are usually made by telephone as
she connects with the animal via the human caretaker: “Telepathy
does not know time or space.” Dawn
told us our animal companions are in constant telepathic touch with
us, which is how they know when we’re on our way home and can be
waiting for us at the door. “Your
animals know what you’re doing right now and they’re excited about
it,” she said. She told us
about a workshop participant who arrived home after class to find her
seven cats expectantly sitting in a row at her door. This reminded me
of my consultation with Susan Marino. Sue had laughed and said all my
critter-kids knew I was working to learn communication and
“each one of them has a different scheme to get you to pay
attention.” I knew The Snow
Angel, our beautiful blue-eyed white Siberian husky, was getting
particularly fed up with my inability to hear her. She’d stare at
me, willing me to “get it,” then let out a deep, exasperated sigh
when I’d tell her I still wasn’t hearing her. Next,
Dawn explained some things that made a real difference in my thinking.
She pointed out we all communicate with our animals without even
realizing it. Pay attention to what you say to your animals because
you’re often unconsciously answering their questions. For example,
when you get home late and explain to your long-suffering dog why you
were delayed, you’re answering his question. “It
takes a sender and a receiver,”
she told us, and “It’s so simple, you look right past it.” As in
meditation, it isn’t so much a process of quieting your thoughts but
of selectively listening to them. The animal may speak to you via your
internal voice; it may feel like your imagination but you have to
learn to trust what you get. Some people receive communication in the
form of emotions, images or sounds in addition to or instead of words.
“After all,”
Dawn said, ‘imagination’ is
the crazy label we put on things we don’t understand.”
Dawn
spoke at length about the spiritual connection between people and all
the world’s animals. She described her life at Spring Farm and told
us many adventures, often moving, often humorous, about the animals
living there. The description in the flyer she gave us explains it
well: Spring
Farm CARES began as a
retirement/rehabilitation sanctuary for abused, abandoned, unwanted or
homeless domestic animals. We thought we were simply giving them a
place to live out their years surrounded by love and comfort. Instead,
the caregivers became the humble students of the great spirits
residing in these animals. Speaking with respect, Dawn told us about
life-lessons she’s learned from her animal friends. Her beloved
horse, Deeteza (deeTEZza), was one of the residents who helped design
and teach the advanced Spring Farm communication workshops. Although
Deeteza passed over several years ago, she continues to be a guide and
inspiration to Dawn. Gulliver the llama, another of the master
teachers, is currently helping Dawn write a book. Gulliver’s apt
title for the project is, Humans Being Instead of Doing. Reincarnation
is a topic which invariably comes up during communication workshops.
Animals are generally aware of past lives and know they’ll return
again in a new body. When someone asked Dawn if reincarnation is
immediate, she explained some animals spend more time in spirit
between incarnations and at other times the return is quick. She told
us of a consultation she did for a woman who was distraught over her
missing rooster; she feared a fox had taken him. When Dawn contacted
him, he told her, “Beautiful
morning...I was walking across the yard, gathering up the girls and
then, BAM! There I was, back in an egg!”
Dawn added that when she speaks with an animal, she gets no sense of
whether he or she is in physical form or in spirit: the animals draw
less distinction between life and death than do we humans. On
Saturday, Dawn divided us into pairs to practice first listening
skills, then telepathic sending and receiving. A brief guided
meditation included a visualization of the doors of our hearts gently
opening to allow the light to stream out. Telepathic communication
flows from the heart rather than the mouth and ears. Finally, Dawn led
us through a meditation during which we became an animal of our
choice; sensing through its body, experiencing its emotions. At the
end of the day, she gave us our homework assignment. Before class the
next morning, we were told to approach one of June’s animals, say
hello, and imagine hearing “hello” back. Dawn would validate or
correct any responses we got.
Sunday
brought a huge improvement in the weather. Blooming dogwoods dotted
the surrounding hills like stars as we drove from the motel back to
Hidden Heights. I knew I had only a few minutes before Dawn reconvened
the workshop, so I took a deep breath and went looking for a target.
Mark Russell, the feisty Jack Russell terrier, was far too preoccupied
bossing around the visitors, so I wandered until I found June’s
elderly black Pug waiting for her in the basement hallway. I sat on
the floor in front of Pugsley and tried to ground and center myself
and picture the opening doors in my heart; then I said hello. Nothing.
I gave the dog some light massage strokes and asked him how he liked
having so many people in his house. Now I had an impression that he
was out of sorts with all the hubbub...but there was a little
undercurrent of excitement, especially with all the interesting food
around. I was sure I was making it up. As I rubbed his head, I thought
I got, “Ooh, that feels
good.” Body language, I told
myself. I moved to his back and promptly heard, “The
head, the head!” I was still
sure it was my imagination until the Jack Russell began yapping
nearby, then I distinctly heard Pugsley say with infinite disgust, “And
that Mark Russell running around like an idiot!” Chuckling, I thanked Pugsley for speaking with me (an important step in
honoring your animal confidant). When I excitedly told the workshop
group what I’d heard, Dawn exchanged a glance with June and they
laughed. Dawn confirmed the message: “Pugsley
has issues with Mark Russell.”
I thought with surprise, this is easy, and heard my husky, Angel, say
to me, “Of course it’s
easy!” One
by one, participants shared the messages they’d gotten from June’s
animals. A woman smiled as she told us one of the horses had chided
her for recording the messages in her notebook: “People!
Needing to write down life’s lessons!”
Another reported she was disappointed because Mark Russell refused to
speak with her and ran away. Her friend pointed out the dog was
nervous about the hat she’d been wearing. Dawn suddenly laughed. “Oh,
that explains it. I wasn’t going to tell you, but Mark Russell said,
‘There was something funny about her head.’” awn
sent us out for more practice, asking us to connect with June’s
companions again or the local wildlife. She also mentioned we could
try connecting with any of the Spring Farm animal teachers via the
photographs she’d brought with her. “Choose
a picture that appeals to you,”
she suggested, pointing to the dozen or so photos spread on the brick
hearth next to her. I wanted to go outside in the glorious spring
warmth but decided to choose a picture, too. Portraits of horses,
llamas, dogs, goats…I knew one of the llamas must be Gulliver the
author and I was too intimidated to select him. There — the
beautiful and serene orange cat, basking with closed eyes in the
sunshine. The photographer had captured her in that perfect moment of
feline meditation just before her chin suddenly drops down and she
falls into a deep, peaceful catnap. Sonya Pia was the name written on
the back of the photo.
Outside,
we were amazed at the vast numbers and activity of the birdlife.
Several of us watched in awe as a blue heron circled the pond at the
bottom of the hill behind June’s house. Then the cries of a hawk
drew our attention upwards. A redtail circled over us, calling and
calling. We watched it soar, pull in its wings and swoop, then soar
again, over and over. We were all mulling over what Dawn had finished
telling us only minutes earlier. She said redtailed hawks appear at
every workshop she teaches, even in areas where they haven’t been
seen in years. Deeteza, the late Arabian horse, told Dawn she would
accompany her to every workshop in the form of a hawk. I suspect I
wasn’t the only one there who looked skyward at that wheeling hawk
and murmured, “Hello, Deeteza.”
Next, a redwing blackbird began trilling in the tree nearest me.
I’ve always thought of redwings as my good omens, so I thanked him
and he accepted on behalf of all redwings. As I walked on, I was so
enthralled by the life all around me, that I nearly stumbled into
another workshop participant, seated in a lawn chair. He beamed at me
and said, “It’s just like being in a Disney movie!” Then I heard
Dominic, the tall gray horse, call to me, “Get
over here! You’re the one who’s supposed to work with horses!”
He playfully bonked my chin with his muzzle and tried to convince me I
shouldn’t be afraid to do healing work with his kind. We
regrouped and shared our stories and Dawn validated and sometimes
expanded on each one. When I said I thought I’d talked with a
redwing, she looked me in the eye and said, “They’re
one of your power animals.” I
felt a flash of joy; I’d never thought of it that way but it was a
perfect fit. During the discussion, I glanced at the picture of Sonya
Pia, the Spring Farm cat. I still wasn’t sure I wasn’t just making
it all up. But now I felt Sonya’s insistence that I speak with her.
It was like having a cat pacing on the table as you try to write,
rubbing against you, paw-pats, head-bonks. But it was all telepathic.
Suddenly I knew I was getting it! In fact, I was having trouble
concentrating on the workshop. To underscore my message to her, I
wrote it in my notebook: “Sonya,
I will speak with you as soon as we break for lunch. Before I eat, I
promise.” I asked her if I
should talk to her on the sundeck and I thought she said, “Yes,
away from the others.” I felt
her settle back to wait for me. After
Dawn dismissed us for lunch she told me, “Be
sure you talk with Sonya. She really wants to speak with you.”
No kidding! I teased Sonya a little just to see what would happen and
thought about getting my food before I’d try to connect with her.
Her reaction was a definite No! So I asked again if I should go out to
the deck: Yes. And be sure to bring your notebook. This was my
experience, as recreated from my notes: Outside, birdsong is
everywhere. As I pause to listen, I can feel Sonya listening along
with me with true feline alertness. Then she shakes off her instincts
and becomes the teacher again. As I sit down, I’m pondering whether
I’m cut out for a career as a professional animal
communicator/healer. I don’t phrase a specific question in my mind
but she picks up on my thoughts. She is speaking to me so clearly, I
find myself writing her exact words in my notebook. Yes,
you are a part of this work, more than you can even imagine at this
point. Through Sonya, I suddenly receive a great wave of love from the
Spring Farm animals. It feels as if they are arrayed in a semicircle
before me, sending loving energy. I sense Gulliver the llama front and
center; I know the magic of the place. Instantly, I’m moved to
tears. ’m
so in awe, I feel overwhelmed. A little panic slips in. How am I
supposed to do this? Oh, right, I ask questions. “Sonya,
are you Dawn’s cat?” As soon
as I think this, I know it’s a lame question but it’s all I can
come up with. Sonya’s response is vague and distracted, but I think
I get, “We’re all Dawn’s
friends but I don’t live with her.” I have the sense she’s mildly irritated by my trivial question.
Suddenly the connection snaps back into place and I clearly hear her
say, “Shhh. Focus!”
I feel like a kindergartner. I begin to think about my rudimentary
training as a healer and wonder if Reiki should be the next step. “Learn
Reiki and many other things comes the response.” “Come..Come..Come…To
Spring Farm.” I feel a longing
to be there right now and begin to fret over my limited funds for
travel and training. “Trust.
It will work out. So much to learn. We want to teach you. You have so
much to teach, to tell, the world. You
must work with Dawn and Penelope. So much healing to be done.”
I think, I want to do my work in the Midwest where I live. “Then
you can bring it back to your home”
is her reply. My mind must have begun wandering again because she
snaps me back to awareness, “Focus!
I’m not finished.” “Reach
out where you are. Place doesn’t matter.”
I feel her warm smile. “Connect
with orange cats…listen!”
The breeze comes up and I hear it rustle the nearby trees. “Keep
listening to the winds — to nature.”
I sit listening to the myriad birds singing all around and feel Sonya
Pia has finished her lesson. Though it isn’t a physical sensation, I
have the distinct feeling Sonya is gently patting my cheek with her
paw and telling me I’ve gotten it well. Exhilaration sweeps through
me and I write my feelings in my notebook: Thank you, Sonya! Thank you
from my soul! Still
in tears, I now had very little appetite left. Sonya was watching out
for me because I heard her tell me to go get something to eat. I
discovered it’s tough to balance food on a paper plate when your
hands are shaky. But Dawn helped bring me back to Earth when I asked
her whether I’d accurately gotten Sonya’s message. She said, “You
got it, all right,” then told
me Sonya Pia is the Spring Farm recruiter. Another humbling
experience: Sonya must give this message to anyone who’ll listen to
her. Still, I felt I’d experienced a strong spiritual connection
with her and the other animals, and I was encouraged. I
kept Sonya Pia’s picture on my notebook in my lap the rest of the
afternoon. The more I gazed into her face, the more angelic she
appeared. The glowing sunlight shining on her in the photo began to
look more like the internal glow of her spirit. Holding Sonya’s
picture gave me exactly the same comfort as having a purring,
contented cat curled up on my lap. Finally I had to force myself to
replace the photo on the hearth. And
there were still miracles left for me that day. I’d requested a
consultation from Dawn and asked her to talk with Connery, my old soul
of a cat. When I asked Dawn to mention to Connery that his love bites
were a little on the painful side, he replied, “I
forget how delicate human skin is.”
(His playful nips were completely toned down when I returned home.)
Then I asked if he and I had ever been together in a past life. “Yes,”
was his response, “but not in
physical form; he’d been one of my guides.”
I told Dawn once when I’d asked him if he’d come to be my teacher,
he’d replied, “No, we’re
partners.” She said she did
get a sense that he thinks of himself as my companion but she felt
he’s also growing into the role of teacher as well. “It
takes old souls a couple of years to sort out what they’re doing,” and Connery is not yet two. Now I’m eagerly anticipating his lessons. Dawn
left us with one more uplifting thought. For all the human-made
problems in the world, she sees evidence of a global spiritual
awakening. When she first offered workshops they were rarely filled,
but now she has to set enrollment caps so she’s not overwhelmed by
students. Let
the magic spread. |
