Wild Communion

“Animals are a window to your soul and a doorway to your spiritual destiny.”  Kim Shotola, Author

It is with that childlike sense of awe and wonder that I find myself connecting with the natural world and increasingly being guided by animals and other members of our extended and loving non-human family.

It’s about observing, listening, feeling and being with my inner wisdom. What is happening here? What is being said? What could this mean? What action is called for, if any? Is this true for me?

Recently I found myself in the Knysna home of animal communicator Kate Muller, sitting in an intimate circle with a handful of fellow seekers. We’d signed up for a one-day workshop entitled Wild Communion. Our aim was to enhance our connections with the guidance of animals and the natural world by paying attention to signs, symbols or the physical reality of the creatures themselves.

I’d spent lots of time with interspecies communicator Anna Breytenbach over the years, given the documentary film The Animal Communicator it’s public première and multiple subsequent screenings and engaged with Kate’s mentor Wynter Worsthorne of Animaltalk Africa. But this was a refreshingly new focus.

Kate explains, “All of nature is talking with us. It is alive with sentience, compassion and interest in the greater harmony of all beings. In this workshop we’re exploring how to invite deeper relationships with wildlife through conscious energetic communication with the animal world.”

The promise of the day was also that, through guided experiences, we’d get to know our personal power animals – both those who are with us throughout our lives as well as animals who are messengers, allies and helpers along the way.

It was a spellbinding few hours, my fellow participants proving interesting and often inspiring and the exercise an invitation for me to dive deeper and revisit signs and prompts I’ve experienced in recent years.

Kate points out that in most indigenous cultures there are beliefs that we are all born with a spirit animal guardian who is with us for life. “This spirit being’s job is to help us and protect us throughout the incredible journey we call life. In western society we no longer do ceremonies to find and name the animal guardian to make it known to a child, but we still give toys for them to sleep and dream with and be consoled by.

“Who are we connecting with? We see all of nature as conscious. We can engage with the individual souls of animals and the collective consciousness of a species. There are also power animals who are spiritual beings in an animal form and they can have their own personality and identity. We have our guardian/s who are with us for life; they are our team or spiritual family. Then we also have a wider network or community of allies whom we can call on for help with specific events, projects or challenges. As well as messengers who visit us from the spirit world on occasion. If you love nature and engage with allies, then all of nature becomes your friend.

“Like any relationship, the more time and care we give, the stronger the bonds become. You build trust and an energetic bond for working together.

“When we ask for help it’s like asking a friend, mentor or teacher who you know can offer you wise understanding and advice. As well as practical insight and guidance they can also ‘pull strings’, lining up synchronicities.”

Kate likens power animals to guardian angels and says they are available to everyone to engage with. It only takes thought, awareness and attention, although we can work with ceremony and ritual to focus and empower the experience.

“Contemplation takes us into the gaze of the witness where we see with soul rather than only physical reality. It’s a conversation and relationship.  The more you explore with questions and just being together, strengthens the relating.

“Our relating to animals in their soul form gives them an opportunity to grow and evolve as much as it gives us opportunities of transformation.”

One of my pivotal personal experiences was my wakeup call from the elephants.

Rewind a few years to South Luangwa National Park in Zambia when, in the company of my precious friend Adelle Horler, I was on foot and getting ever closer to a family of elephants and intent on snapping a memorable photograph.

Momentarily taking my eyes off the elephants, I made some adjustments to my camera, then heard two words spoken with extreme urgency. “They’re coming,” Adelle warned.

I looked up to see the worst imaginable scenario, the matriarch exploding into action and leading the charge. It was potentially a life and death situation with the eight enraged elephants targeting two puny humans vainly attempting to outrun them.

The gap was closing alarmingly quickly when a decent-sized tree loomed into view. I instinctively pulled Adelle behind it. “Don’t move,” I cautioned, hoping the animals’ poor eyesight would keep us hidden from view.

What followed were the most terrifying moments of our lives as the elephants trumpeted, tusked the ground and raised a storm of dust. I tried to imagine all possible manner of escape, including trying to hoist Adelle into the tree and then swiftly following. I dismissed that option as suicide. We’d be seen and heard. Besides how high can an elephant’s trunk reach?

I’d foolishly led us into this situation, not respecting their boundaries and selfishly thinking only of my photographs and not the perceived threat we may have posed to a family that included a vulnerable baby.

Dell was thinking, “This is going to hurt so much,” imagining tusks ripping into our bodies.

I attempted a telepathic apology. I was desperately sorry I’d not respected their boundaries. I vowed that if I survived, I’d devote the rest of my life to caring for the Earth and all its creatures.

Slowly the fury on the other side of the tree abated and we were left shaken, but unhurt and intensely grateful to be alive.

That night the matriarch led the family to and through our campsite, her trunk raised questioningly like a periscope as she tested the air, no doubt sensing our silent presence in our 4×4’s rooftop tent. Then, satisfied, they filed past slowly and peacefully on those great padded feet, somehow not bumping our nearby camp chairs or kitchen table.

I had the overpowering sense that they’d not only consciously spared us but delivered an important message. Now it was up to me to deliver on my promise. How could I dedicate my life to the wellbeing of Mother Nature?

That became my quest, leading me to the Findhorn spiritual community in Scotland and a decision to walk the world with climate change messages. I’d radically reduce my ecological footprint and tread lightly and lovingly upon our beloved Earth.

By now messages from the natural world were becoming more frequent, although I didn’t always understand them.

Once I was meditating on a high rocky outcrop at dawn and feeling blissed out by the sublime beauty of the sunrise and breathtaking ocean view spread out below me.