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.