Blog, Earthfire Stories | April 16, 2012
I sponsored an old horse named Nomad for several years. When he was about to be retired (and moved an hour away), I took him for a favorite walk and sang him a song that we could be together any time just by thinking of each other. A few years later, when Nomad was almost 40 years old, I was doing a morning meditation, and Nomad came to me. He rubbed the soft, furry side of his mouth along my cheek (my favorite), and there was a message that he would be right there with me any time I needed or wanted him. It was very odd, because there was no reason I should have been thinking about him that day, and it was as if he was REALLY right there with me, physically. About an hour later, I got a phone call from his owner, Dee, whom I was supposed to be meeting with that day. She sounded like she had a cold, but instead, had been crying. “Nomad died this morning, a couple of hours ago,” she said.
Nomad was a Buddha, if ever a horse could be. This was his way of telling me that I would not have to cry or to say goodbye, because he would always be right there with me. I now count on him to be walking with me when I am out hiking in his favorite spots. I wait a while by the streams that he loved to listen to as he grazed. I feel his presence, his grace, his acceptance, and most of all, feel the softness of his fur on my cheek. After he died, we did a photo book on Nomad, and filled it with the stories about him told by his many sponsors and admirers over the course of 40 years of his life. In one case, he even had three generations of women from one family who had sponsored him.
I wanted to add another note to my story about Nomad: Interesting that he came to me a couple of hours BEFORE I was given the news of his death. It is as if he wanted to counteract any possibility of my feeling deep grief or loss, and to accept his death in peace. He was saying to me “Its just my body passing. I am still very much here for you.” It is also interesting that I feel moved to share this story with you, because I felt so sad to see your video about the death of your lovely cougar and to see your obvious grief. Your cougar is still here with you too.
Blog, Children & Families, Earthfire Stories | March 23, 2012
Have you ever made room in your bed for a bear? Think about this question before you answer or seem startled by the proposition. It is estimated that 42% of American children are soothed by a cuddly bear each night.
Every night I partake in a bedtime ritual with my 6-year old son. We gently arrange his growing collection of stuffed puppets (as they are warmly referred to) in the bed; each head receiving a spot on the soft pillow and each body warmly ensconced under the blanket. It occurred to me one day that 75% of this collection represented animals that live in the wild- wolves , raccoons , penguins and of course, bears . I still remember the wide –eyed look I received after tucking a pocket-sized green bear in a box and presenting it to my son after his first Christmas show performance. He was ecstatic and proceeded to show and share Green Bear with all his friends. Green Bear found a special place in his jacket, zippered up snuggly with his head popping out to enjoy the world as my son carted him from place to place.
The bear is an admired soul in my young son’s life. The bear enjoys elevated stature compared to human playmates. We read adventures of bears in his weekly library books; some favorites are the extensive Berenstain Bear collection and The Valentine Bears, a sweet story about a loving bear couple that come out of hibernation prematurely to exchange Valentine’s Day cards. We watch Kenai and Koda, the star bear protagonists in the movie Brother Bear 2, the sequel to the Academy Award nominated animated film that grossed over $250 million. Boog, a 900 pound domesticated grizzly bear dazzles his audience in the movie, Open Season, a delightful animated film grossing over $200 million and with a sequel to boot. These movies have impacted not only my son, but the world.
As you go about your day, take a moment to reflect on your childhood memories of bedtime companions. Why as a child were you so drawn to animal companions? Many educators believe that early attachments provide a working model for life’s subsequent relationships. If this is the case, should our beds not be filled with wild animal friends? When do we begin to fear wild animals? If you are still curious about your feelings toward wild animals and are still curious about the wonders of bears, perhaps a retreat at Earthfire and an encounter with Humble Bumble or Huckleberry Bear Bear will fill a special space in your heart. Have you made room in your heart for a bear?
Blog, Earthfire Stories | March 4, 2012
Connecting in meditation with Earthfire and its inhabitants is always a great joy. Each time is different, and each experience rich. In our last meditation, I saw Earthfire as a large tapestry. Each of the animals represented a particular color of thread. Each species was a separate color but each individual animal was its own unique shade of that color. All of these colors wove together in the most beautiful patterns. The humans have a color too, and so do the plants and the stones, and the earth and the sky. Each thread is precious, unique and essential.
This made me think about the dynamic at Earthfire. The colors interwove in a balanced way, forming a beautiful tapestry, but that little tapestry is part of much bigger one. What do the colors look like in the larger tapestry of life?
With this question in my heart, I took a look and this is what I saw. The threads of man have dominion over the others. In recent centuries, our threads have covered over the others, weaving where they will with disregard for the bigger picture. The result is a rather chaotic mess.
Perhaps it is time for us to choose to let go of our dominion- to open our hands that hold on so tightly to all that we think we must control- and to recognize the value and beauty of the other lives all around us and make room for them. Perhaps it is time for us to take a weaving lesson from Earthfire.
Thank you, Susan and Jean, for being guardians of such a special place.
Earthfire Stories, Retreats and Workshops, Seen Thru New Eyes | January 16, 2012
Pat Hager used his experience at Earthfire retreat as a stepping stone for volunteering in his area, helping preserve wildlife corridors. A participant at the Connecting with Wildlife Heart to Heart retreat he wrote:
My son Patrick & I attended the June retreat. I found it to be a very nice experience and particularly enjoyed visiting with the animals and hearing Bernie Krause the bioacoustician. It certainly “opened my ears!”
I was struck by the concept of wildlife corridors being maintained as a way to ensure genetic flow to maintain species viability and health. I had not previously considered that as a real issue, nor the concept that such work is already underway in different places. This experience led me to look locally in Minnesota for similar ideas, which in turn led me to Minnesota’s Superior Hiking Trail Association. This is a volunteer nonprofit organization established to create and maintain a continuous backpacking/hiking trail that currently stretches from the Canadian border to Duluth, MN.
I ended up taking a weeklong backpacking trip on the SHT, which beyond the initial goal of providing one of the best hiking trails in America, has also served as a wildlife corridor itself. Although narrow and crossed by roads in places, the Trail allows a pathway for animal movement, and much wildlife is indeed abundant there.
I guess my thinking about all this comes down to the idea that ”dual user” parkways, pathways and trails might be a good step toward serving the needs of people and wildlife without the need for conflict.
-Pat Hager
Art & Creativity, Blog, Earthfire Stories | November 15, 2011
There are parts of me I miss, terribly. At an early age, I understood my relationship with animals. With unapologetic certainty, I knew we were kin, that our lives were entwined, our destinies connected. I spent hours in a tree in my grandparents’ garden talking with birds, communing with spiders, feeling the joy of being alive with them.
As happens to all of us, I grew up in a world that looks at animals differently, and I changed. I never completely lost my core, but I learned to hide it, sometimes even from myself. It happened in increments, but I remember moments. When I was in third grade, my father went hunting and brought home a pronghorn antelope on the roof of the car. I looked into that animal’s still bright eyes and sobbed. In a futile attempt to comfort me, my mother assured me that he – the pronghorn, not my father – had no soul, so he had nothing to lose. I knew better than that, and silently apologized to him, and to all animals, for human ignorance. I vowed through my tears to somehow make it up.
Entering adulthood, I chose to pursue another passion, and became a fiber artist. But I never forgot my pledge, and when the longing to be with animals became too sharp to ignore, I left my studio a few hours a week to volunteer at a zoo. Those hours stretched, turned into a job, and inspired me to incorporate abstract animal imagery into my art. In turn, the images became more realistic, and by the time I accepted a job at a wildlife rehabilitation clinic, I had written and illustrated two books about wildlife. Those books were for children as much as they were for the pronghorn. Getting them published was a step back to myself.
Constance Perenyi - Apricot, 6.5x5 paper
And still, I was in hiding. The wildlife center where I worked strictly limited human interaction with the animals in residence. While I respected the need to keep wildlife wild, I grieved many missed opportunities. I secretly took many of those orphaned or injured animals into my heart and did my real work with them in the quiet of night. It was in that safe space that I could explore the deeper meaning of our intersecting lives. I reached out, and they were there, just waiting for someone to initiate the connection.
During my third summer at the clinic, the director made the decision to cover the cages where young crows were kept indoors until they were old enough to join others in an outdoor aviary. Of course, the idea was to keep them from bonding too much to their human caretakers, but the edict was unbearable to me. I argued that these birds needed exposure to the busy clinic. Most basically, they needed light, and in a state of deprivation, many weakened and some died. I fought until I lost my voice, literally and figuratively. With resignation and a feeling of failure, I left my job.
I’ve carried that painful memory for almost two decades, and along with it, a deep desire to find a different way to work with wild animals. A few months ago, a friend introduced me to Earthfire Institute through a link to the video of Apricot. I blinked through tears as I witnessed a healing collaboration done with integrity and skill, and so much love that I felt my own heart begin to heal. In that moment, my earliest understanding of life came rushing back. It is so simple: we are one, and we help each other.
I also knew that I wanted to honor Apricot with a portrait. Paper is my medium, and I work in a form of collage most like the traditional Japanese art of chigirie. With my background as a fiber artist, I am suited to working with layers of paper, and over the years, my work has become increasingly painterly. It is also a profound way to connect with animals. Even when my only source is a photo, as it was with Apricot, I can step aside and let the animal come through. It may take days to get the details right, but the hours are suspended, as they are when I am in the company of animals in so-called real time.
I have been honored to do portraits of animals, both companion and wild, for humans who want to remember. I chose to portray Apricot so I could remember. It is an honor to share this little collage with my kin at Earthfire Institute. I will visit someday soon, but this place, these people, and these animals already burn brightly in my imagination. I am grateful beyond words.
Earthfire Stories, Retreats and Workshops, Seen Thru New Eyes | November 15, 2011
Caitlin and retreat leader Polly Klein, returning to the yurt. (c) Hershel Klein
In August, I was honored to be invited with 10 other students to a retreat at the Earthfire. We were brought there by our Reiki teacher and animal communicator Polly Klein. I am still figuring out what happened. Still journaling, meditating, singing, and whispering about it to myself, a few others. One thing I learned: right after, I should have gone into silence, as befitting any sacred encounter. But I also felt a deep need to tell people about it. Somehow.
It was the sentences that got me, later. Impossible ones. “If you’re done with the wolves, we can bring in a coyote if you’d like.” “The bears are too intense so we’ll just have you sit near them first, then we can bring them into the garden.” “If you just move with them they’ll come up to you.” “If you feel a lick, just turn around slowly.”
These were said quietly and without irony by caretakers and founders Jean and Susan. How do you integrate those into your usual sentences, I wonder? Even with such a strange internal dialogue as mine? I had thought, before I left, that I would get to stand really, really close to a bunch of cages with wild animals in them. I had no idea that I would not only be able to touch some of them, but give one of them a massage and a Reiki treatment to another.
Bramble Bear enjoying his time in the Wildlife Garden, showing off for retreat participants. (C) Hershel Klein
I keep trying to interpret but I’ll just tell this one thing: I sat on the grass watching Jean pet ancient cougar Windwalker until he purred. (Again with the sentences.) Behind me I heard a huff-huffing, which turned out to be the large grizzly, Huckleberry Bear Bear. Poking his giant snout under the bars of his enclosure, followed by more of his head until I could see his eyes. Following instructions, I looked at him briefly, then looked away. I looked back and he was still gazing at me. I looked away again. Then I trusted my instincts and looked back. We gazed a long time. And I heard, clear as a bell, a question from him:
What kind of animal are you? I knew instantly that this is the question I’ve been answering all my life. I told him that, awkwardly.
Polly was also deeply moved by her encounter with another grizzly, Humble Bumble, the “specially abled bear.” We struggled to articulate what it was exactly that had moved us all. It came to me: in zoos, which I cannot visit anymore, even if they are good ones, the animals are simply “not there.” You look into their eyes and they are gone. At Earthfire, it is immediately apparent: the animals are completely there. And they are completely taking you in. They see you, they are seen.
Caitlin and Firefly getting acquainted. (c) Hershel Klein
It took me a full three days to realize that Jean and Susan weren’t kidding: they really do mean to be creating something new (or very old) with animals. A connection. How it used to be or how it could be or something else that I won’t diminish with words. But to be with wild animals who are perceiving you as a fellow critter, to be sniffed and possibly touched by them, is to restore the animal in oneself. What a gift.
Contributed by Caitlin Sullivan, participant in Polly Klein’s Retreat, Call of the Wild, August, 2011.
Earthfire Stories | November 15, 2011
The following story is a good reminder that you can have an Earthfire experience anytime anywhere. If you just go out into nature, be it in a city park, a favorite trail by your house, or a trip into the mountains, there is wonder to be found.
I sometimes frequent nature trails here in Florida. I just love walking with nature and enjoying the peacefulness and spotting animals in their natural habitat.
As I walked one trail in northern St Lucie County, a few beautiful blue scrub jays flew over me and landed in a tree just ahead of me. While a couple of them flew away as I approaced; I notice one stayed on an outside brach as if it were not afraid of any interaction with me.
When I got close to the tree; I greeted the bird with a simple “well…hello my friend”.
He flew to the ground right at my feet and looked up at me. All I could think to say was “well…aren’t you friendly”. Just for the heck of it I stuck out my right hand and extended my index finger and invited it to my hand. It actually landed on my finger. I was totally astonished that this beautiful little bird took to me so quickly. As he was perched on my finger, he just pecked around gently at my hand and finger as I spoke to him reassuring it that I was a friend. It was amazing how long he sat there just looking at me as I spoke to him. I have never had such a feeling of oneness with nature. After about 5-10 solid minutes of speaking with my new friend; I lifted him to the air and he flew off. The feeling inside of me can in no way be described in words alone. My whole day after that could not have been ruined by anyone nor anything. I have returned to that spot several times in hopes of a return visit from my friend; but have been unsuccessful in finding him. I hope that one day, I might share another experience such as that one with one of my brothers in nature. It was an experience I will never forget.
Animal Story, Animal Tales, Blog, Cats, Earthfire Stories, Retreats and Workshops, Seen Thru New Eyes | August 24, 2011
This year will be my second visit to Earthfire Institute, and while there are many good friends there, I am especially looking forward to spending more time with Windwalker the cougar.
Windwalker has a powerful presence and a great heart that is both awe-inspiring and humbling. His love for wildlife expert and friend Jean Simpson of Earthfire is very clear as you will see in the photos.
But Windwalker is something more—in my opinion he is a spiritual Master Teacher/Healer. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Other workshop attendees and workshop leaders/animal communicators such as Penelope Smith and Polly Klein have expressed the same opinion.
It was that belief that caused me to offer Windwalker a Reiki attunement after the 2010 A Walk on the Wild Side event concluded.
It was an experience that had its moments of humor as well as energetic depth and spiritual connection. I thought to offer Windwalker a distance attunement using a plush stuffed animal as a surrogate. However Windwalker wanted my Tiger—big time. And he did not have spiritual intentions—Windwalker wanted a play toy—an encounter I doubted that Tiger would survive.
Rose De Dan offers Reiki attunement for Windwalker the Cougar ©2010 Debbie Noyes
Once Tiger was moved out of Windwalker’s sight I again had his full attention, and I mean FULL attention. He took up a position where he was looking directly at me, into my eyes, and he barely blinked the entire time. I could feel the intensity of our connection in the energy of the attunement and it moved me deeply.
Windwalker and I have stayed in touch in the almost year since, and he makes requests of me from time to time, or offers opinions (sometimes out of the blue). Lately I have felt a very strong pull from him, and the feeling that he was going to play a larger role in the upcoming workshop.
That feeling was confirmed when I spoke with Polly Klein upon her return from her August workshop. She’d had a conversation with Windwalker where he expressed his determination to remain in his body, no matter the cost, so long as the people kept coming, for he had a mission. And his request to me was to assist him in staying in his body as long as possible (he is an elder, at least 13, and has the pains of old age). And so, Windwalker has now been added to my weekly client schedule and is also receiving daily Reiki from Debbie Noyes and myself (he has requested that others not send Reiki directly, preferring to work with only a few people, but is open to Reiki and prayers for the situation).
Not long after, Diane Stringfellow signed up for the 2011 A Walk on the Wild Side: Answering the Call of the Wild at Earthfire and shared her experiences with Windwalker.
I was so moved by the synchronicity of experiences and Windwalker’s desire that I asked Diane if she would be willing to be interviewed, and she gladly agreed, feeling that it was important (as I did) to get Windwalker’s call to the people out.
And so, I present a transcript of our interview which I hope you will share with others. Read or listen to the recording and learn how one person heard and responded to Windwalker’s Call.
This is Rose De Dan, and I’m talking to Diane Stringfellow about her experiences at Earthfire Institute with a cougar named Windwalker.
Hi Diane, how you doing?
Diane: I’m good, Rose, thank you.
Rose: First, I’m curious, what drew you to Earthfire Institute in the first place?
Diane: Well, it was kind of odd, actually for me, I’m a very kind of practical person, and I was looking at not working for a year, and was starting that process last fall/spring. My daughter had gone to a psychic and she kept encouraging me to go see this woman, she thought it would be fun and interesting. So I went and saw this woman, and during the session she said that they (the people on the other side) were telling her that I needed to check out Earthfire Institute, and I asked her what was that and she said, “I have no idea, this is what they are telling me that you need to do.” And I kind of went, ‘Okay, yeah right.’
And I came home and I Googled Earthfire Institute and there really was a place. I mean it was like there really was this place. And the hair stood up on the back of my neck—I just could not believe that there really was this place. So I started looking at the 2011 programs and they weren’t posted yet, but I actually saw yours from last year and I was really drawn to it. And so I kept checking, waiting for the calendar for 2011 to come up and eventually I phoned and spoke to Linda the office manager there. She was telling me about the various programs, and I was really drawn to do yours but it wasn’t until the fall. I was going to be stopping work mid-May and wanted to kind of do a trip and go to Earthfire.
So I signed up for the Heart-to-Heart with Susan and Jean, and I started off on my road trip, went down the coast of the States, up through desert up to Driggs, Idaho.
I ended up kind of building this whole kind of journey, this kind of walkabout around ending up at Earthfire, right? But I really wasn’t clear. I was attracted, I’ve always had a really strong relationship with animals, probably more so than people. I’m more comfortable with animals than people. I was inspired by what was happening at Earthfire and I wanted to go see that, but that was as much as I knew at that point. So that took me to Earthfire in the middle of June.
Rose: And so, I understand you had a powerful experience with one of the resident Animal Teachers there. What was your experience meeting Windwalker like?
Jean and Windwalker @2011
Diane: Windwalker? Oh, it was profound! We went up to his compound, and he was laying up on top of his house, or den, or whatever the right word is for that. And he kept calling to Jean, he really wanted Jean to go in, and Jean had a different idea of how the day was going to look, so he really didn’t want to go in, but Windwalker was really persistent.
Finally Jean went in, and he went up to Windwalker and Windwalker reached out his paw and touched Jean’s face. The love and reverence in that touch, I mean I just (I’m going to cry again)…I just lost it, I just started crying. The beauty of his spirit, of Windwalker’s spirit, was just, I mean it just…I don’t even have words for it! It was like this profound, energetic emotional connection that I had with Windwalker, I mean it wasn’t about words it was about something much different than that. I realized in that moment that it was Windwalker that had called me to be at Earthfire. It was really clear to me but I was kind of just reeling.
We were there with him for a while, and Jean was in with him for a while, and then I look up at Jean and said, ‘Hi, can I just have a hug?’ I mean I was trying to get grounded, I mean it just knocked me over, you know?
And I’m usually pretty stoic—part of me was embarrassed that I was bawling my eyes out next to Windwalker there. But I mean he’s just…Windwalker’s amazing. He’s just this wonderful old soul. You know, I think that he’s a healer. Kind of what’s come through to me later—it took kind of a while for me to kind of find words for that. I think he’s a healer, I think he calls people to be awake, that he calls people to be in a circle. Yes, my time at Earthfire, my time with Windwalker—all the animals were really special but he was kind of the big piece on the end of an amazing few days that I spent there.
Rose: Yeah, it is a really incredible place.
Diane: Kind of in hindsight it was like the redwoods called me. When I was standing in the redwoods on the coast there, I realized that these trees had called me. And then when I was in the desert it was the same thing; I realized that the desert had called me, and I’ve never had a lot of interest in the desert. So it was really interesting that there were all these pieces, including Windwalker, that kind of called me on this, this journey that I did.
Rose: Yes, indeed.
Diane: So after the workshop it was kind of like Windwalker kept kind of saying, ‘Well, you’ve got to come back—you’ve got to come back in September.’ And I went, ‘Well, I’m not sure the money’s going to last…you know there’s other things that I’m going to be doing.’ I mean you, know, all those justifications that we make.
Rose: Mmm-hmm (agreeing)
Diane: And then the other week —it was actually Sunday night (Aug. 21)—I was almost asleep, and I saw these paws, and I instantly knew that they were Windwalker’s. And then his face came into view and it was like he filled my bedroom—he was there, he was there with me. And he said, ‘You have to come back. I’ve been calling and you’re not listening. You have to come back.’ And I said, “Well, why?’ And he said, ‘Well, you need to be in ceremony with Rose, you need to come and meet Rose. You need to be in ceremony with her.’ And I said, ‘Well, why?’ And he said, ‘Well, that will be revealed when you get here.’
But I mean, like his presence, his presence was like…I mean it was just amazing. I mean there was no doubt, it was just absolutely no matter what I have to go back to Earthfire. So I actually went online and booked your seminar, your workshop.
Rose: A Walk on the Wild Side
Diane: Yes, that’s right.
Rose: And the subtext on that one is Answering the Call of the Wild and it certainly sounds like that’s what you’re doing by answering Windwalker’s call.
And I would definitely agree, I too believe that he is a Master Teacher/Healer, but his time is growing short, and so this call may be his last. We don’t know.
Diane: I think that’s true, I think that’s true. I hope not.
Rose: I hope not, too. We will sit in dialogue and ceremony with him once again and we’re planning on building the ceremony, as much as we can, involving him, around him, with him—he’ll be a central focal point.
Diane: I was just struck by the beauty of his spirit, you know?
Rose: I know—you won’t get any argument from me. I’ve got my own stories to tell about Windwalker, which I’ll probably talk about in the article that I’ll be writing.
Diane: Oh, that will be wonderful!
Rose: So, thank you. It is my understanding that you have not had many psychic or visionary experiences prior to this?
Diane: Truthfully, there’s always been times in my life at different times where there’s been inspiration kind of from the universe. But I’m a very practical, pragmatic kind of person in the world. So I tend to go okay, yeah, that’s interesting, but…So it’s interesting that this came through loudly enough that there was no ignoring it. And it’s still amazing to me that I found Earthfire based on going and seeing a psychic. That this woman was telling me about this place—she did not even know what she was telling me about. She said, ‘I have no idea, this is what they are telling me.’
And that was Windwalker. I think that was Windwalker putting it out to the universe on behalf of Earthfire or his own need, whatever that is. Sorry, to sound vague but I don’t have a lot of words, it is like this feeling, this energetic feeling as opposed to something I have words for.
Rose: (laughs) I understand. So, I look forward to meeting you in person and sharing that time together with Windwalker, and of course Susan and Jean and all the other animals at Earthfire—it’s coming up soon!
Diane: I know, it’s going to be wonderful to be back, yes, absolutely.
Rose: Thank you, Diane, and I’ll be seeing you soon!
Diane: Thank you, Rose.
Earthfire Stories | May 26, 2011
By the time I was able to make the trip to Minneapolis to work with the Bun, his movement had been impaired for just over a year. His human companions, Mia and Paul, were not sure what had happened, but Bun had suddenly been unable to use his left hind leg, which after several months had begun to atrophy. Bun had allowed me to work with him several years before when he had somehow strained his back (he and his human, Mia, had formerly been my neighbors in Chicago), so while he was a bit wary, being a bun, he was nevertheless willing to give me a chance. Because I was spending the weekend in Minneapolis working with horses, I planned on working with Bun on three consecutive days. Because he was a bun, and not thrilled about being excessively handled, we kept the sessions short, about 20 minutes a piece.
In our first session, late on the evening of my arrival, I sat on the living room floor with Bun and began with gentle touching, using only my fingertips. My intent was merely to bring Bun’s awareness to his body. His movement had been severely diminished for a long time, and I wanted to reintroduce him to his body parts and their ability to move. I outlined each vertebra of his spine, gently pushed his tailbone towards his head to remind him how his hind end connected to his fore, outlined his ribs, and gently moved his sternum (or breastbone) from side to side, all with the tips of my fingers. I would have liked to work with Bun’s feet as well, but he would not allow it. At the end of the session, Bun still had his left hind leg tucked up under him, but he seemed much more alert and energized when Mia returned him to his area in the dining room where his bed and food were and where he now spent much of his time.
The next morning, I worked with Bun again before I left for the day. This session was similar to the first one, in that I was still attempting to bring Bun’s awareness to his body, but this time I wanted to bring his awareness to a slightly deeper level. Once again, I used my fingertips to I gently outline his spine and gently push his tailbone towards his head. But this time, instead of outlining his ribs, I gently lifted his ribcage, one side at a time, to show him that it was capable of movement and to show him the connection between his ribs and spine. And this time, when I touched his sternum, I used both hands—one hand on the point of his sternum, one hand underneath his body, directly behind his front legs. I gently, slowly moved his sternum back, forward, and from side to side, again to show him that movement in this area was possible and pleasurable, and to show him the relationship between his sternum, ribs, and spine. Bun listened attentively to this lesson. When he appeared to have had enough, Mia took him back to his area in the dining room.
Late that evening, when I returned from working with horses, I decided to work with Bun again. I was leaving the next day and wanted to work with him as many times as I could in the short time we had. I felt that the way to make the best use of our time together without overloading his nervous system with too much information was to do more frequent, shorter sessions. I began our third session by sitting on the floor and placing Bun between my outstretched legs. In previous sessions, I had worked on my knees, bent over him. But now, I wanted to offer him a secure, enclosed space, as I was going to work at a deeper level than the previous sessions. My intent in this session was to prepare Bun’s body and nervous system for standing on all four feet. Once again, I worked with Bun’s sternum. I used both hands to slide it from back to front to back to front. My touch was gentle, but I asked the sternum to move more fully than I had before. As I eased the sternum back towards his tail with one hand, I used my other hand, which was under his belly, to gently lift him onto his feet. As I eased the sternum towards his head, I gently set him back down. After showing Bun this rhythmic movement a few times, I began alternating it with gentle pushes through the pelvis—first one side, then the other—and the sternum. I still had one hand underneath him, offering him support, and now I was raising him completely off the ground to prepare his nervous system for standing. At first, he was alarmed when his feet left the ground; Mia pointed out to me that his eyes were beginning to bulge. But he did not try to escape or bite, so I gently continued with my work.
I then set Bun back on the ground and began working with his right hind leg. Remember, it was the left hind that was giving Bun problems. But I wanted to bring to Bun’s attention to how smoothly and efficiently a hind leg can work, and so to do this I worked with the one that already worked most efficiently. I placed the flat of my hand underneath his right hind foot, creating an artificial floor. Unlike an actual floor, my hand could move. And so with his tiny foot on my palm, I slowly rotated my hand at the wrist, causing the “floor” to slant in this direction and that, bringing Bun’s awareness to the flexibility of his foot and each of his toes. I then played with Bun’s leg, gently and very slowly showing him the range of motion he had available in the leg and hip. Bun was very quiet as we worked, clearly listening to the information I was sharing with him.
Finally, I was ready to touch the left hind, the leg that Bun had kept tucked up under him for so long. I gently touched his toes, one at a time, showing him that the foot was not an unyielding block, that it was flexible. His foot spasmed momentarily, then released and softened. As I had done with the right foot, I now played the artificial floor game with the left foot and then showed Bun the range of motion he had available in this leg and hip. As I worked with Bun, as his body softened, I became more and more convinced that the injury he had sustained was not to the leg itself but to the nervous system, that he had suffered a mild stroke. And so at this point, I decided to play a trick on his nervous system.
I eased one hand under his belly to support him and to lift him to his feet, then with the other hand I gently crossed his left hind leg over his midline-the imaginary line running vertically through the middle of the body. I had already shown him that his right hind leg was fully functional. Now I wanted to trick his nervous system into thinking that the left hind was in fact the right hind. To do this all I had to do was move the left leg to the right side. I had no expectations at this point. I merely wanted to give Bun this information. I still had one more day to work with him before I had to leave, and I planned on continuing our dialog the following morning. But, incredibly smart creature that he was, Bun only needed to be told once. Moments after I crossed his left hind leg over the midline, Bun jumped off my hand, shook himself, and hopped—using all four feet—into the next room. I started laughing, Mia started crying, and Bun no doubt wondered what all the fuss was about.
The next morning, I decided not to give Bun another session. I felt his nervous system had received enough information over the previous two days and that he needed to be allowed to integrate it. I sat near him while he ate his breakfast and gently stroked him a few times. Then I showed Mia a few ways she could work with Bun until I could return to Minneapolis several months later. I did not get another chance to work with him. Two weeks after my visit, Bun died of natural causes. Mia assures me that his last two weeks were good ones, that Bun was able to hop around the house and that one day he even scratched his face with his left hind foot, something she had not seen him do for over a year. I am forever grateful for that, and that I had a chance to work with this intelligent and gentle creature before it was time for him to leave.
Earthfire Stories | May 26, 2011
Last year I found a starling chick that had fallen out of the nest. At first I thought about letting nature take its course, then I decided to try and save the baby. I fed it game bird starter mixed with water. I named the bird Curley (from the 3 Stooges) because the fluffy feathers on his head reminded me of Curley. When Curley fledged, he “trained” myself and my husband to help him get crickets. Curley stayed until it was time for the starlings to migrate. One evening he pecked me hard on the cheek and that was the last time I saw him. I learned some things from Curley and this year I have been blessed with another starling baby whom I named Buddha. |
Nomad Lives by Jennifer Sauer
