On August 2016 I had another of my unusual encounters with an animal. More important than anything in life is my experience with the soul realm. When such things happen, I always feel wiser, stronger, better centered in ultimate Reality.
I attended a monthly Reiki Shares session at the Samadhi Yoga Center on East Colfax in Denver. As I walked past the friendly young woman sitting at the counter, I noticed that she had a very happy black and white dog under her bare feet. It was lying on his side as she massaged it with her feet.
I laughed and said, “Hi Dog–you look happy,” then walked on.
Inside the Reiki room, I heard the dog talking to me. “I want to see you,” he said. I listened further. I’m not good at picking up gender. Actually, I’m still not sure about hearing the voice of an animal I don’t know. After Hattie died, I became more confident about hearing the voice of one of my companion animals.
“I was abused,” he said, “but I’m very happy and grateful now. I’m loved.” I was pretty sure the dog was male.
The words returned while Reiki was performed on me. “I still have trauma about it,” he added.
When I walked out of the gathering room, I moved to the woman at the counter. She had a very sweet, open face, with the creamy complexion of a redhead. Her dog got up and came over to see me. He seemed both friendly and anxious. He kept wanting me to pet him, then backed off, and returned, sniffing at my shoes and legs. I sat down on a chair so I’d be more at his height.
“You smell my dog and cats and all the other animals I hang out with, don’t you?” I said petting him.
“He’s kind of afraid of men.”
I asked his name.
“Josko,” she said.
I told the woman what Josko had said. “He told me how much he loves you and is happy to be yours. He also said he he’s been abused.”
The woman shook her head. “No, I’m sure he wasn’t. I got him as a puppy of 6 weeks old. He’s been with me ever since.”
I thought, “I must have been wrong.”
“He was rescued from a hoarder.”
“Early pethood experiences are just as important as early childhood experiences for us,” I assured her.
We went on to talk of the importance of bonding.
“To do that we have to open ourselves, make ourselves vulnerable to the greatest joy–and the deepest pain–imaginable,” I said. A collage of faces of people I knew who just couldn’t do that flashed before me. “I think that’s one of the gifts that our animals give us. They’re easier to bond with than many humans.”
The woman agreed. “We don’t do it very well.”
“It’s the most rewarding, as well as painful thing, we’re called to do,” I added. “It means being open to losing everything, especially the beloved. And the threat of losing ourselves in the process.”
“I think that’s what we’re meant to do” the woman said.
“From that we gain a much deeper, truer sense of self,” I added. That’s the main difference between Western Religious Traditions and Eastern Religious Traditions. “We’re still part of the whole, the web of life, of all that is–God, if you like.”