by Deb Schnitta
Animals have an orientation to the process of healing that is something we as human beings strive for. They open, offered and continue with daily life without much energy expended. Illness releases from their cells in an easier way. Balance is achieved and healing occurs as part of their natural orientation to life. In my experience human beings struggle to achieve this balance often, with the process of healing taking longer. Often times I have witnessed spontaneous healing while working with animals. This prompted me to look at what animals as teachers can offer us about the process of healing.
When an animal is injured it will focus on the immediate need at hand. If the need is for rest, it will rest. If the need is to remove a thorn in its paw it will divert its attention there. Animals focus on being in the present not as an exercise of effort but merely as a state of consciousness. Their emotional systems are smooth in comparison to those of most human beings. There is a movement of energy that occurs here that propels the process of healing forward. An illness is not seen as a series of attachments, of questions of what if and why? It is seen merely as what it is a statement that something is out of balance.
Chiropractors and acupuncturists that treat animal frequently report the same observation; animals heal in easier than humans do because their degree of emotional involvement is not entwined in the illness as it is for humans. An imbalance in the spine is corrected without the need for understanding what has occurred.
When I work with wild animals that have been injured something curious occurs. There is a place of resonance that sets up between their system and mine that is deeper than what I witness in the healer client interactions. I will "feel" this animal on the back porch, be able to pick out its energy from others it is traveling with. In short the type of resonance and connection that exists between a mother and child develops as soon as the animal has opened itself to the process of healing. The barriers of needing to be separate and individual do not exist as firmly as they do in the human system. An animal will blend and open, receive the healing input and retreat when full. It allows the innate intelligence of its body to direct the process of healing that occurs.
Often we can discount what animals can teach us, seeing them as further down the evolutionary spiral than humans. From the perceptive of a healer I think the reverse may actually be true. Animals seem to surrender in deeper ways as if it is normal for them to do so. This deeper level of surrender allows for the ease in which healing occurs. There is not struggle within the emotional system of the animal that attempts to keep old patterns and identities in place. Change occurs naturally, as if it has been expected.
The placebo effect is not operating with animals, allowing the observation of healing in animals to provide interesting insights. Animals do not think about all the implications an illness might have. There may be anxiety within the cells themselves in relation to the imbalance that is associated with the illness. There may be impact in the animal’s life from the illness. However, there is not the franticness of the mind that engages in trying to create a story about everything that is occurring. The ability to live in the present, as a basic orientation to life seems to support the animal in the process of healing as well.
Recently I had the opportunity to work with a squirrel that was frequenting the feeder in our backyard. He appeared over a period of time with a large growth on the side of its face. It grew steadily until its one eye was almost completely occluded. I offered telepathically to try to assist him, to ascertain if there was an opening for healing to occur. I was stunned at how quickly an eager yes resounded in my direction.
The guidance I received was that each day he appeared at the feeder would be appropriate to offer him healing. This would be his method of making an appointment and actively participating in his healing. After two days the growth had disappeared. There was only a faint redness around his eye and the absence of fur from his face where the growth had been as evidence of the illness. I was stunned at how quickly the density of the cells had transformed.
As I reflected back on the healing sessions I recalled how easily and smoothly the energy offered had been taken in by the squirrel’s cells. The growth appeared to be connected to his nervous system with tendrils extending up in to the brain. Even thought he illness was complex, the changes occurred as simply as if I was assisting in the unwinding of snarled yarn. Cell after cell responded to these brief sessions as if a nutrient that had been lacking was now present.
This squirrel also taught me about Oneness, the state of union where there is no separation present from one to another. Each day he would appear I would feel him out on the porch from where I was in the house, as if he was loudly calling my name. It was as if our energy fields remained connected long after our brief healing sessions had occurred. When I would go to replenish the feeders he would wait patiently, while all the other squirrels would run. His degree of newfound comfort was astounding. He no longer ran from other squirrels and moved patiently along the feeder to make space for others. Each time he was present at the feeders there was a peaceful meal based in cooperation. When he was absent the other squirrels jockeyed for position, pushing one another out of the way. It appeared his illness was not the only thing that had been transformed.
As I observed this behavior I began to wonder what else could animals teach us about healing and being in the world? Was it that the squirrel was displaying a place of change in his own behavior as a result of a deeper place of healing? Was this the same that is sometime witnessed in humans who experience a near death experience? One thing was clear; this small creature had gone from certain death to existing in a place of harmony with the world around him. How hard would it be, I wondered for humans to do the same?
Each time I have the honor to work with animals I am touched by the ease in which they interact with us. Even if they are injured and wild, unaccustomed to close human proximity, there is an innate recognition of the state of grace that exists, in which we are all One.
To learn more about this article, email email@example.com.