I believe that the animals who come into our lives do so for a reason.

I didn’t always believe this. But then I met my beloved Thoroughbred, Nikos, who told me we had been together for many lifetimes and introduced (perhaps reintroduced) me to the work I do now. He told me that we are one spirit, separate yet connected. He told me that we will be together until the end of time.

And my little white dog, Elika, my constant companion, the bright light of my life. When she told me she was mine, I had no interest in little white dogs, but she said she had come to teach me about my wildness, and so I took her in, and my life was changed.

Several months ago, I was invited to a barn to do mini-readings during a holiday event. A teenaged girl came up to me as I was preparing to leave and asked if I could speak with her horse. She had been trying all evening to decide if she wanted to do this and was clearly still reluctant.

She told me again that her horse was for sale. She had told me this at the beginning of the evening when I first met her. When I’d commented on her horse’s beauty, she’d said, “Do you want to buy her? She’s for sale! There’s another one I want to buy.” Her tone had surprised me. I was a bit taken aback at her eagerness to give up her horse. But now, as she asked me to do the reading, her tone had changed. There was sadness in her voice, in her posture; she said she didn’t know what to do.

When I spoke to the mare, she told me that the girl should not feel guilty, that the mare had come into the girl’s life not only to make her a better horsewoman, but to open up places in her heart as well. She said that the girl had learned the lessons, that she, the horse, had always known that they would not be together for long and that it was time for them to say their good-byes. She asked only that the girl be patient and careful in choosing the mare’s next home, that she closely listen to the guidance of her heart.

A client recently asked me to speak with his Border Collie. The man will be going abroad for several months this summer and will have to leave the dog behind. Even though the man’s wife will be joining him overseas for only one month, and even though the dog will be staying in the home of someone she knows well and loves during that month, the man was feeling guilty about leaving her.

The dog told me that she was well aware of the trip, and that she was fine with staying home. She said, “This trip is particularly important. Something that has been germinating will be born. Do not look for something huge, something that will knock you down. Look for something small and subtle, like a feather. It will brush your cheek and completely change your life. I do not need to be there. I will keep the space open here.” She went on to say that her human companion is quite the worrier, that when one worry is over, another begins. She said that after this trip, “the worrying will stop. That will be part of the change. He will feel giddy, light—a weight gone.”

Some years ago, a woman contacted me to speak with her cat, who was having digestive disturbances. I channeled Reiki healing to him, and we spoke about what was going on. He was a very calm and centered cat, self-assured, and so I was surprised when he suddenly asked for Holly, which is a Bach flower essence used to treat unresolved anger. This made no sense to me until I finally realized that he was suggesting it for his human companion, the woman who had hired me. When I spoke with her about it, she revealed that she had been sexually abused as a child and that she was indeed still suffering the effects.

And then there are the countless horses who say they are with their women to help them to find their courage, to speak up, to break out of the prisons they have constructed for themselves, to learn to trust their instincts, to listen with their hearts. Just today a horse said to me about her human companion, “She worries quite a bit, but that seems to be changing. She is softening, taking her time, listening. She second-guesses herself, though. Tell her she doesn’t need to do that. She is connected; she can hear; she is hearing correctly.”

And so they come forever or for a little while. They come to bring the joy that comes with play, to teach or to learn, to provide companionship, to make us brave, to soften our hearts, to help us heal or to be healed. Maybe it is worth considering: Why is this horse in your life, this dog, this cat, this cardinal outside your kitchen window?

Until next month,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in April 2007.

© 2007 by Pamela Sourelis

The Problem

Your horse seems depressed. Your veterinarian has been out to see him and has given him a clean bill of health. Still, your horse does not have his usual energy and lust for life. He seems withdrawn and moody.

You will be going out of town for a week, and will be leaving your dog with a new dog sitter. Your dog is a creature of habit and tends to get upset in new situations.

Your middle-aged cat has suddenly started urinating outside of the litter box. A trip to the veterinarian has confirmed that there is nothing wrong with her kidneys or bladder.

In all of these situations, you might consider using the services of an animal communicator. But if you have never used a communicator before, how do you decide who to use?

Step One: Gathering Names

The easiest place to begin, of course, is with a referral from someone you trust, someone who has used a communicator and has been happy with the results.

If this isnít an option, you can begin either by searching a local publication where communicators advertise (such as this publication) or by searching the Internet. When searching the Internet, it is probably easiest to narrow your search by state, but remember that all communicators are able to do readings across distance. So if you run across a communicator who appeals to you but that lives in another state, or even another country, donít let location stop you.

Step Two: Gathering Information

The next step is to gather information about the communicator. This is obviously necessary if you are considering using the services of someone that no one you know has used. But it may also be a good idea in the case of a referral. Itís entirely possible that a friend or acquaintance could suggest a communicator that you end up not caring forówhat works for one person doesnít always work for another. So itís always a good idea to do a little bit of research on your own before hiring someone.

If the communicator has a Website, go ahead and take a look at it. The Website will give you a sense of the communicatorís background, philosophy, and approach. The Website should contain summaries of some of the communicatorís readings (stories or short case studies) and should contain testimonials from clients as well. Of course, no communicator is going to include comments from dissatisfied clients (if such clients exist), but positive testimonials should give you a sense of the communicatorís approach and level of success.

The Website will also discuss other modalities the communicator may use. For example, I incorporate Reiki energy healing into my sessions; other communicators may use other energy modalities, such as Healing Touch, oils, or crystals.

Websites may also contain articles written by or about the communicator. These are another source of valuable information about the communicatorís work.

Step Three: Making Contact

If you like what you have read, if it sits well with you, if you feel drawn to learning more about this person, the next step is to contact the communicator. Usually, you can do this either by email or phone. Email is a bit less personal, but you should use whichever method you feel most comfortable with.

Of course, if the communicator does not have a Website, you will probably want to ask questions about his or her background, experience, and approach. But if you have already gotten this information, this final step is about making a more personal contact. As you have your conversation with the communicator, let your intuition guide you. There is an increasing number of excellent, qualified professionals to choose from. You need to work with the person you are most drawn to.

Final Considerations

In making your decision of who to work with, beware of sweeping claims. Anyone who claims, for example, to be the best communicator in the area or who makes negative comments about other professionals, anyone who claims to be accurate 100 percent of the time, anyone who claims to be able to predict how much time your ill animal has to live should trip your early warning system.

Animal communication is an art form that is based in spirit. It originates in that part of us that is soft and quiet, that is humble and receptive, that is awed by the power of this gift. These are the qualities you want to look for.

Note also that the session will not only give you information about your animal companion, it will give you information about yourself as well. Some of this information may make you uncomfortable, for example if your horse is not happy with his job or with some facet of his living situation, or if your dog or cat insists that changes be made in the relationship.

A good communicator, then, will not only tell you what your animal companion said, she or he will suggest ways for you to act on this information, to make the necessary changes, to integrate the information into your heart.

Until next month,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in March 2007.

© 2007 by Pamela Sourelis

At the beginning of each of my animal communication classes, I ask each student to pair up with another student for a short exercise: Airing of the Fears. One student in the pair, student A, begins airing her or his fears about the class or animal communication in general, while the other student, student B, responds with a simple “OK.” The idea is to not get into a discussion about the fears, which would give them more substance and weight, but merely to acknowledge them.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to hear anything,” student A may say.

“OK,” student B responds.

“I’m afraid my family will think I’m crazy,” student A continues.

“OK,” student B responds.

The exercise requires student A to continue airing her or his fears for a full two minutes. Initially, students often feel this will be impossible. They aren’t afraid of anything, at least not class-related. They’ve paid their money; they’ve come to class; they’re ready to learn. But as the exercise continues, they come to realize that they do, in fact, have many fears.

“I’m afraid I’ll think I’m hearing something, but I’ll just be making it up.”

“OK.”

I’m afraid I’ll hear a cry for help, but I won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“OK.”

Interesting, isn’t it, that the student starts out afraid of not being able to hear and circles around to being afraid of being able to hear. This is really common.

The wonderful thing about airing your fears in this way is that by bringing them to the light and having them acknowledged, the fears shrink, sometimes even disappear. Getting into a long, involved discussion about why you can’t hear the animals or the awful looks you’d get from your friends if you told them you were doing this or how silly you would feel trying to hear an animal and not being able to do it isn’t effective because the discussion just draws energy to the fear. You don’t want to feed the fear. You just want to say it, have it acknowledged, then let it go.

Where do these fears come from? Well, we’re not born with them. As I’ve said often in this column, each of us is born with the ability to hear the animals. So the fears about not being able to do it come from our environment, our culture. We can buy into the fears, feed them and allow them to grow; or we can let the fears go, and we can return to being the fearless creatures we were at birth.

If you think about it, all of the fears really boil down to one fear: The fear of not being in control. This is ironic because letting go is what allows you to hear the animals.

Then go do what you’ve been wanting to do, but fear kept talking you out of: Find yourself an animal communication class and sign yourself up!

Until next month,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in February 2007.

© 2007 by Pamela Sourelis

Happy New Year!

The new year is always a time of beginnings, and so I’d like to share a story with you about beginnings. It actually happened in the spring—another time rich with beginnings—but I’m hoping it’s a good new year’s story as well.

It was the spring of 2000. I had decided about six-months prior that it was time to leave Chicago (a city that I adore) and move out to the country to live with horses. At the time, I was not in a position to buy property, and so I was looking to lease or share or work. I had been searching and frantically searching; I had no idea where I wanted to be or was supposed to be or how to make the decision.

One evening, as I sat quietly with my Reiki, a rather loud but sweet voice told me to move to Woodstock (IL). I knew of Woodstock, had volunteered at the Hooved Animal Humane Society headquartered there, and had been through the town many times on the way to my mother’s house in Harvard. But I didn’t know anyone there or have any leads about where to look or what to look for.

But the voice was so loud and clear that I told my mother about it and asked her to put the word out among her friends in the area.

Three weeks later, I got the call that a man in Woodstock was looking for someone to house sit for a year and care for his five horses. He was a military man and would be overseas for another year. The judge in my brain came up with all sorts of reasons why this wouldn’t work, the first one being that my taste in decorating would be wildly different from someone in the military, that there was no way I could be comfortable in the house, the second one being that there was no way I could possibly make a living way out there in the sticks. I know, none of this makes any sense, but the judges in our brains rarely do. Sometimes when our prayers are answered, we’re too busy being scared to notice.

Nevertheless, on a rainy day at the end of March I meandered down from a barn in Kenosha where I was boarding my horse, everything green, green, green from the days of rain, enjoying the scenery, and figuring that if nothing else at least I was having a nice drive in the country.

The moment I drove onto the property in Woodstock, my heart opened. It was a simple house, a simple barn on a 7-acre plot. There was nothing spectacular here. But the energy of the place nearly took my breath away. Sitting in the car in the driveway, I said to my little white dog, “Elika, we are going to be living here.” I was so excited that I wished I was hauling a trailer of my belongings and that I could move in right at that moment.

After spending a couple of hours with the owner, meeting the lovely horses who would become my dear friends, and making preliminary arrangements for my move, I headed back to Chicago. It had stopped raining, but there was still quite a bit of water on the roads, so it was necessary to drive with caution. I had been driving along the expressway for about ten minutes, in a state of both elation and peace, when I saw an SUV travel down the on-ramp, merge into the right lane of traffic, and then spin to the left 180 degrees. The vehicle was now in my lane, coming straight at me at about 50 miles an hour. At the rate we were traveling towards each other, we seemed destined to crash within seconds.

For reasons unknown to me, I did not panic. A clear, loud, calm voice spoke, enunciating each word: “Don’t. Do. Anything.”

And so I did not try to decide which way to turn the wheel; I did not try to decide whether or not I should brake. Although I could see the panic in the other driver’s face, I kept on the course I was on.

And then it was as though a bubble was placed around my car and all the cars around me and behind me. Traffic seemed to slow and drop back from the danger; time itself seemed to slow. The car coming towards me suddenly turned and was back on course. The driver was soon able to pull onto the shoulder, safe but visibly shaken. I would have liked to have pulled over and shared a kind word, but with the wet conditions that didn’t seem safe, and so I sent a bit of Reiki instead. I quickly glanced into the back seat to check on my precious cargo. My usually hyper-sensitive little dog, Elika, was curled up, fast asleep, apparently unaware that anything had happened.

What had happened?

I knew this: I could have died that day. But I didn’t. Divine energy scooped us all up and protected us. It was not our time to go.

For me, it was a dramatic signal that a brand-new chapter in my life was beginning: a life that began to come into full harmony with the animals.

And so I remind myself this new year to abandon all preconceptions, silence the judge in my head, and to listen to the inner voice, the sweet, kind, loving voice that offers both solace and direction.

Until next year,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in January 2007.

© 2007 by Pamela Sourelis

The season of gift-giving is upon us. Some of us will frantically search for just the right gift, the gift that says just the right thing, expresses just the right emotion, the gift that shows us off in just the right light. We will plan and shop and prepare. We will spend far too much money and far too much energy and will end up feeling depleted and sad.

Others of us will give as little thought as possible to the chore of gift-buying and will speed down department store aisles mere days before our family gathering or our office gathering or the gathering at our place of worship, grabbing at whatever-they can always return it if they don’t like it-and paying extra for gift-wrapping. We will spend far too much money and far too much energy and will end up feeling depleted and sad.

Several years ago, a woman in one of my Reiki classes shared this story. The year before, she had been on vacation in Costa Rica and had been swept off the beach by a riptide. Her neck was broken in two places. She was told she might never walk again.

The woman, a successful groomer and dog sitter, always had a house full of dogs. She told of coming home from the hospital and being immobilized for weeks, her bed surrounded by dogs, both hers and other people’s. When her husband would come to check on her, he had to pick his way over and between the pack because they refused to move. She told us, her voice heavy with emotion, that she was certain it was the energy and love of these creatures that made it possible for her to walk again.

Later, with the aid of a walker, she was able to take daily walks to the corner. She would take several dogs with her. “They only needed one walk,” she said, laughing. “It took all day.” She took four at a time, two leashes in each hand, inching her way down the sidewalk. She said, “I would take a step, and they would take a step. I would stop to rest, and they would sit and wait. I would take another step, and they would take another step. I would stop, and they would sit.” The woman who was told she might never walk again told us she was soon able to walk on her own. What greater gift than this?

Giving is second nature to the creatures in our lives: the dog who teaches us about loyalty and unconditional love, the cat who teaches us about independence. Giving is second nature to the horse who hears our confessions and our prayers, who lets us bury our face in his strong, sweet neck, who nibbles our hair, who carries us on her strong back down a snowy trail, who looks us in the eye with fierce pride.

I think the animals have much to teach us about giving.

Perhaps this gift-giving season some of us will strike a better balance than we have in the past, taking our cue from the creatures in our lives. Perhaps we will fret less, enjoy each other more, give freely from our hearts.

Until next year,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in December 2006.

© 2006 by Pamela Sourelis

Dusty, a beautiful gray sheepdog who had passed from this life three days earlier, entered the room and began speaking. He felt centered and wise; his voice was strong. “Oh, I know she loves me,” he said. “She is a most beautiful creature. Please tell her not to cry, that I am fine. I am free. There is no explaining this. The earth life is wonderful, a joy, a bounteous gift, but this life is boundless. I am with her still. I am always with her. I am a soft breath at her neck; I am a warmth that travels up her legs and settles in her belly. I am always here.”

“Dusty,” I said, “She wants to know if you were happy.”

“Gloriously so. Always. My life was a joy. Maria is a joy. She is my friend, my heart song forever.”

“Everyone misses you,” I said. I was speaking of Maria; her parents, who often visited; the two other dogs; and the two cats.

“I know,” he said. “Please tell them to be happy. I miss their touch, but I do not miss them because, you see, I am with them.”

Dusty and Maria had been together since he was a pup, and he had passed at the age of 19, an extraordinarily long life for a 70-pound dog. They had been the dearest of friends, and while Maria was grateful for every day they had spent together, for his long and healthy life (he had died peacefully in his sleep), there was nevertheless a hole in her heart.

When Maria had called me several days earlier for an appointment, She had been tender with grief. She missed Dusty so deeply, the pain was like a bruise on her heart. I told her that she could speak with him whenever she liked, that he would always hear her. I suggested she ask him to come to her in a dream. She said that she would try, and I told her that I would ask as well.

“Dusty,” I said, “Maria would like you to visit her in a dream. Could you do that for her?”

“Of course,” he said. “I will bound into her mind and heart, full of electric energy. I will recharge her heart. She will feel new.”

“She feels sad,” I said. “She loves you and misses you so much. You were together a really long time.”

“Extraordinary, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” I said, “for such a large dog. I was quite amazed.”

“I had a very good life. And I am having a good life now as well. It is all one. Here. There.”

After a short pause, Dusty continued, “She is an artist; did you know that?”

I told him that I hadn’t, but that I believe all humans are artists.

He said, “She has an exquisite sense of color. You can see it in her flower garden. She is quite amazing, really.”

As I wrote these words, something told me that Maria did not have a flower garden. I was afraid for a moment that I had heard wrong but reminded myself that information that makes me uneasy always ends up being important.

Dusty said, “I will tell the other creatures to be good to her, I mean especially good to her in this difficult time. They are all healers, you know.”

“Yes,” I said, “I believe this is so.”

He went on, “They will all help to mend her broken heart. Tell her to let the love pour in through the cracked places.”

I told him that I would.

“Tell her I am always with her and that I will see her again.”

“Are you coming back?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “Not now. I will see her here. But not for awhile, of course. She has a long and beautiful life ahead of her. Please tell her that she is loved forever by me.”

***

Maria has a non-traditional work schedule, which has her going to bed early in the evening and heading off to work well before dawn, so she was already asleep when I worked with Dusty. When we spoke the next day, she said that she had slept soundly for the first time since his passing, that she had a strong sense of his presence in her sleep, and that she had awakened feeling rested, strong, and at peace. (“I will bound into her mind and heart, full of electric energy. I will recharge her heart. She will feel new.”)

When I shared with Maria that Dusty had said “It is all one. Here. There.” She tearfully said that she believed that as well. She said that he had always had that peaceful grace about him, that he had helped to teach her.

When I mentioned the flower garden, she became quiet for a moment. I said, “You don’t have a flower garden, do you?”

“No,” she said. She paused and then began to cry. “I don’t have one yet, but I’ve been planning one.”

Until next month,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in September 2006.

© 2006 by Pamela Sourelis

In July, I talked about how all creatures, including humans, are telepathic, that this is a gift we are born with, and I suggested exercises to help you begin your journey to hearing the animals.

I would love to hear how you are doing-both your successes and frustrations-and I would love to share your stories here. I am guessing that some of you are indeed hearing the animals but are making yourselves miserable by second-guessing yourselves, trying to convince yourselves that this simply cannot be happening.

Just moments after she had been attuned to Level II Reiki, a woman in one of my Reiki classes immediately began to hear the horses who were in the pasture right outside the window. One of the horses told her a rather elaborate story. The woman was elated at first, that she could hear him, but then she began to cry. She was afraid she had made the whole story up.

A woman who had recently taken one of my Introduction to Animal Communication classes told me that she’d really enjoyed the class, but wanted to know how we could we be certain that we were actually hearing the animals. Maybe we were really hearing the thoughts of the human companion, or maybe we were hearing spirits, or maybe we were hearing the voice of God. I found it interesting that she was not concerned that she was making the information up; she seemed convinced that it was coming from somewhere outside of herself. But she was so unconvinced that that she was actually hearing the animals that she had stopped trying to communicate with them at all.

So, how do we know if we are in fact creating the stories ourselves of if they are coming from somewhere other than the animal we are trying to talk to?

Telepathic communication works because on some level we are all connected to each other, on some level we are all one. And so, when I am communicating with an animal, I don’t worry about where the information is coming from. Sometimes, I receive information about an illness the animal is suffering from. Does the animal know the name of her illness? Or did someone or something else step in for a moment with this information?

Does it matter? I have always felt that it does not.

We do, however, need to be careful about how we interpret information. When we communicate with an animal, we are the ones who put the information into words. The animals do not speak in the same language we do, and so we translate. Well, in doing so, we can easily add our own twist to the information. We can inject our own fears or doubts; we can miss information altogether because our minds are not open to hearing something unfamiliar.

When I am doing a communication session for a client, I write down what I am hearing so that I can read it or email it to the client at the end of the session. From time to time, I will feel uncomfortable about a sentence or two that I’ve heard. I worry that I may have made it up. I think about deleting it. Maybe the horse or dog or cat has complained about something the human has done or said. It might embarrass the client. It might be totally wrong. But I always force myself to share it with the client. And it always-always-proves to be the most powerful or important part of the communication.

And so the message here is to trust your instincts. And to be able to do that, you have to keep an open mind and to keep an open heart. You have to put judgment aside. You have to put fear aside. You have to work from a place of total love and acceptance. And you have to work with a quiet mind.

For help in getting to that place, you might consider yoga or meditation or Reiki. You might also want to revisit some of the exercises I suggested in the July column: remember the times you have communicated with your horse; remind yourself that they are true. Spend time just sitting in the pasture with your horse. Don’t think about anything, don’t do anything, just be.

Until next month,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in September 2006.

© 2006 by Pamela Sourelis

Reiki (pronounced ráy-key) is an ancient form of Japanese energy healing. The Reiki practitioner channels universal life force energy to the being (human or animal) in need of healing. This can be done by placing hands on the being; it can also be done across distance, with no physical contact.

There appears to have been a steady increase of interest in Reiki over the past few years, especially among animal lovers. This is wonderful news because animals are very open to this type of healing; they don’t question whether it is really possible to channel healing energy, they just gratefully accept it.

There also appear to be quite a few misconceptions about Reiki. One is that Reiki is a type of massage. It is of course possible to combine Reiki with massage. But Reiki itself has nothing to do with massage. I do most of my Reiki sessions with animals across distance, never touching their bodies at all.

Another misconception is that Reiki can only used to balance a person’s or animal’s energy. Reiki is most definitely used in this way, but it has many other uses as well. The practitioner can use Reiki to assist with emotional and spiritual healing, which we look at in future columns, and for physical healing, which we will take a look at this month.

Let me start out by saying that reputable Reiki practitioners do not diagnose illness. I periodically get calls from distraught animal owners who tell me their horse (or dog or cat) is ill and they don’t know why and they don’t know what to do. My answer is always the same: Call your veterinarian. This is because Reiki practitioners are not veterinarians and are not qualified to diagnose disease or the effects of physical injury.

However, Reiki is a powerful healing modality and an extremely effective complement to veterinary medicine.

Here’s a story. Some years ago, I arrived at the barn where my horse was boarded and found the owner in a frantic call to her vet. Her mare had been in the pasture enjoying the beautiful summer day when she’d suddenly begun violently shaking. The woman, I’ll call her Anne, had brought her horse into the barn, noticed that the horse’s gums were white, took her temperature, which was elevated by three or four degrees, and immediately called the vet.

When Anne got off the phone, I asked if she wanted me to give her horse Reiki while she waited for the vet. She did. I went into the stall with Anne and gently placed my hands on her horse. Within 30 seconds, the horse had stopped shaking; within a minute, the color had returned to her gums. After several minutes, Anne took her horse’s temperature again, and it had dropped two degrees.

The veterinarian arrived a short time later, examined the mare, and treated her. No one was ever sure what exactly had triggered the episode. But Anne and I-and I’m sure her mare-were grateful that the Reiki had so quickly treated the shock and lowered the elevated temperature.

Here’s another story. My horse, Nikos, had gotten a tetanus shot, and the next day he had a baseball sized knot at the injection site. The barn owner (different barn) was mucking stalls, and so I was talking to her while I held my hand over the knot, channeling Reiki but not paying much attention, just passing the time on a quiet Sunday afternoon.

After a few minutes, I noticed that the knot felt smaller under my hand. I moved my hand, and sure enough, the knot had shrunk by about two-thirds. I couldn’t quite believe this myself, and so I said to the barn owner, “Hey, Sue, take a look at this. Is the knot smaller, or am I just imagining things?”

I’d only been at Sue’s barn for a week, and she hadn’t known much about Reiki up to that point, but when her mouth fell open in disbelief and she softly demanded to know how I’d done that, I figured she was seeing the same results I was. (This incident so convinced her of the power of Reiki that she went on to take both my Level I and Level II Reiki class!)

Reiki can also be used to relieve the symptoms of stomach upset or colic (while you’re waiting for the vet), to reduce pain and swelling from overexertion, and to accelerate the healing process after any injury or surgery. A few years ago, my horse Nikos stepped on my little dog Elika and dislocated her wrist. The veterinarian told me it was a bad dislocation and that she might never be totally sound. In any event it would take several months to heal. With daily Reiki, Elika was charging around at top speed in two weeks, completely sound.

Reiki can also be used to help alleviate the physical stress of chronic illness. I have worked with many dogs and cats suffering with cancer, and have found that the Reiki alleviates their pain, increases their appetite, diminishes their depression, and increases their energy. Reiki is also believed to shrink tumors, and I believe I have experienced this phenomenon as well.

In short, Reiki can be used to alleviate pain, swelling, and discomfort associated with any illness or injury and can dramatically accelerate the healing process. Reiki is non-invasive, non-toxic, and can be used in conjunction with any other healing modality. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do without it.

Next month, we’ll take a look at how Reiki can be used for emotional healing.

Until next month,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in August 2006.

© 2006 by Pamela Sourelis

A complaint I often hear from animal lovers is that, try as they might, they just can’t hear what their animals are saying. They have tried reading books to understand how the process works; they have tried joining online chat groups; they have tried relaxation exercises and visualizations and meditations to quiet their minds so they can hear better; in short, they have tried and tried and tried, but they just aren’t getting anywhere. Nearly paralyzed with frustration, many of them convince themselves that they will never be able to do this, that communicating with animals is something that only a few special people are able to do.

This is nonsense.

I firmly believe that all creatures-including humans-are telepathic, that we are all able to send and receive non-verbal, non-physical messages. But we are told from a very young age that this isn’t possible, and so we eventually convince ourselves that it isn’t. Because the vast majority of people have accepted this silliness, the inability to communicate with other species is considered “normal.”

So the first step in re-learning how to communicate with the animals is to believe that you can, to know that you can, to understand that telepathic communication is a gift you were born with, and that no one can take this gift from you.

As you begin this journey, it is important to realize that communication with the animals can happen in a variety of ways. Many people think that because they don’t hear their animals’ thoughts and feelings in words, they aren’t communicating with them. Remember that communication is about sending and receiving information, and speech is not the only way we do this. After all, the animals are not speaking in words, at least not in a language we would understand. How information is received depends in large part on the individual doing the receiving.

Information may come to you in words. I often receive information from the animals in this way. I write down exactly what I am hearing, so that I don’t forget anything and so that I don’t decide that I’m not hearing correctly and dismiss part of a message. But information may also come to you in visual images. For example, I have seen accidents that animals had with previous owners, have seen their living spaces and the changes they would like made to them. I have also seen physical problems, such as injuries (that the human was unaware of) and parasite infestations.

You might also receive information in the form of physical sensations. I conduct all of my sessions across distance; in other words, I am in my office and the animal is in her or his home. But even across distance, I can feel pain or tension in an animal’s body. Once, when I was working with a cat, I suddenly felt as though a thick rope was being tightened around my throat. I was in such pain, that I actually began to cry. The cat told me she needed her thyroid checked, which the human later verified.

Or you might just suddenly know that something is true. You’ve probably all had the experience of hearing the phone ring and knowing who it is before you pick it up. I imagine that you have this kind of connection with your animal companions as well.

As you practice communicating, it’s important that you allow yourself to connect with the animals. You can’t force yourself to make the connection. Wishing doesn’t work either; studying for hours doesn’t work; getting mad at yourself doesn’t work; comparing yourself to someone else doesn’t work. You need to be gentle and kind with yourself; you need to be patient. You need to treat yourself the same way you treat your horse or your dog or a young child when you are trying to teach one of them something new. You take it one step at a time; you keep the sessions short; you forgive mistakes; you recognize and celebrate small successes.

Here are a couple of exercises you can try. I recommend that you buy yourself a notebook that you like writing in and a pen or pencil that feels good in your hand.

1. Think of times when you knew what your animal was thinking or feeling. Remember the day when you just knew your horse didn’t feel like working? He looked fine; he wasn’t sick or off; he just wasn’t quite himself. Or the time when you knew something was wrong out in the barn even though you couldn’t actually hear anything from the house? Or the time when your dog smiled at you with love and joy, and you felt your hearts connect?

Think of as many times as you can. Write them down in as much detail as you can remember. You don’t have to do this all at once. Think of it as an exercise that will help you to let go of resistance, that will allow you to see the talent you already possess.

2. The next time you are with your horse, quietly stand next to him or her. Don’t focus on asking a question or hearing an answer. You can quietly groom if this is something your horse enjoys, and if you can do it without turning it into a task. Take your time; don’t rush. Just be with your horse.

Or you might want to bring a chair out into the pasture or paddock and sit near your horse. Bring your notebook. Again, you are not asking a question or worrying about an answer. You are just being with your horse. If a thought comes to you, or an image, or a word (even just one word), write it down. If nothing comes, don’t worry. It may not come today, but it will come.

Until next month,

Be well,

Pam

*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in July 2006.

© 2006 by Pamela Sourelis