We all can communicate with animals.
If you are skeptical or doubt you can telepathically communicate with animals—or if you do not believe it is even possible for anyone else—you may block information you might have received from your animal companion. Our thoughts become cemented beliefs that color our perceptions and form our reality.
It's natural to doubt whether we hear our animals or have the ability. My most convincing validations have come from wild animals with whom I had no egotistical expectations or pressure to "be right." Smokey was a feral cat in my backyard that the owner, George, had been feeding for twelve years. I fed her when George was traveling for two weeks. On the third day, Smokey didn't come out to eat. Worried, I mentally projected these words to her, "Smokey girl, why aren't you eating this morning? Are you all right?"
My interpretation of her thoughts went something like this:
"Not hungry. Ate a mouse last night."
Did a coyote get you?
"Nope. Too smart for that."
I mentally asked her to please let me see her. I told her she didn't have to eat, but would she please just come out and show me that she was all right? My eyes were still closed until Smokey rustled out of the bushes, ran to me, and made eye contact before she circled her food bowl twice and ran back into hiding.
Finally, I put my beliefs to the test. I connected to Smokey again before vacating the premises of my garden apartment. I didn't want to leave her behind. I gave Smokey a choice by sending her two opposite scenarios; first, I sent images of an empty apartment stripped of furniture and animals and her sitting alone in the yard with an empty food bowl. Next, I held a mental picture of picking her up, placing her in the carrier, and taking her with me. Did she want to be part of my family? Or did she prefer to stay behind and fend for herself?
Smokey hung around near my patio garden bench—something she had never done before. I took this to be a yes, although I wasn't sure. Then came the final day and the test of my ultimate belief in telepathy. My furniture and animals were gone from my place. Smokey walked into the empty apartment. I closed the front door, placed the carrier in a vertical position, and fully opened the carrier door. I mentally pictured her going in feet first. Then I sent her a contrasting image of her resisting, my releasing her, and her staying behind.
Smokey was a twelve-year-old feral cat who had never been touched by humans. Here was a human who never thought to wear protective gloves or throw a towel around her. Without thinking, I bent over, placed my hands around her body, and lifted her in the air. To my surprise, Smokey turned into a limp rag! From beginning to end, she was easier to drop into the carrier than any domestic cat I had ever had. Miss Smokey-Girl-Jones has been with me for over five years and is over twenty years old. She sleeps with me, allows me to pick her up for hugs, and wakes me up in the morning.
Fear drops away when you believe in yourself and approach another living being with clear intention, and they return the trust. You meet them on common ground: love. If you are close to your companions, you already hear them, even if you don't realize it. It takes practice to differentiate their thoughts from your own. Your companion's thoughts can be as subtle as a breeze and may appear like yours. And "thoughts" are not always auditory. Become aware of the images in your mind and the feelings arising in your body. Believe in your abilities. Believe your animals can hear you. Most of all, believe that you can hear their thoughts.
One way to begin hearing animals is to practice meditation to slow the chatter in your mind. Thought is the nature of the mind, and while we can't stop thinking, we can become aware that we're thinking and bypass the thought process by not following them and giving them power. Stay focused on your breath. Allowing thoughts to pass is difficult because our ego prefers to take the lead on a roller coaster, winding to the past, thrusting to the future, or suspending us in fantasy. Our attention is constantly sideswiped. But when we ride the breath, thought subsides, if only for a moment, and we find ourselves merged within a peaceful, expanded state of consciousness. As subtle as the still point between breaths, the present moment is where we tap into the Quantum Field, Source Energy, or God. It's also where we can tap into the thoughts of our animals.
When I taught art, some children were often out of control - spinning, scooting around the room, or rocking. I sat them in a circle for meditation every day. Amid loud chatter and distraction, I would strike the small brass bowl used in Buddhist meditation. Its melodic, lingering resonance drifted through the room, commanding their attention while they sat still, listening to the sound taper into silence. All talking ceased, and each child in the class, gong-struck in stillness, folded their hands in a prayer pose. I didn't ask them to. The sound of the gong was enough to bring them inward into the present. Any sound, smell, or taste can do the same and strike through our internal chatter. We "wake up" in intervals like this throughout our life, but then we slip back into our busy minds. Staying awake takes practice. Communicating telepathically to animals takes practice.
Our animals prefer our minds to be a vast sky, not clouded with thought. We are in a powerful place when we slow our busy minds to the wavelength of our animals' minds. When martial artists are about to break a slab of concrete, their minds don't wander off to what needs to be done next. Nor will you ever see a Zen monk eating dinner while watching TV. Remember, we cannot be here if we are somewhere else. We cannot hear unless we listen. To listen, and to hear an animal's thoughts, requires our complete presence.