Last week I had a migraine aura, where there’s a fuzzy disturbance in my visual field that precedes head pain, and all I can do is shut my eyes and be still. It came on right when I had just gotten dressed, ready to start my day. I immediately felt defeated and frustrated as I realized my to-do list was out the window. I really sank into that frustration, too.
As soon as I resolved to lie down on the bed, our cat Calla jumped up and joined me. She cuddled there with me for the duration of my migraine, and it was a huge comfort. Calla is super affectionate in general, but this behavior isn’t really her norm. Her usual routine is to snooze by her favorite radiator, then playfully chase our other cat throughout the apartment. It was clear she was deliberately comforting me the day of the migraine.
Animals can sense what’s in our energy, and they often try to help. They can encourage us to play when we’re stressed or simply rub against us to calm us down or make us smile. Even though I know that about animals, when Calla comforted me, I was surprised and felt incredibly honored and grateful, like I’m the luckiest person in the world. But I don’t think Calla would think what she did was extraordinary. She would see me as totally deserving, but that’s not the first place my mind goes.
A few years ago when I worked with Mr. Big the horse in a workshop in Costa Rica, we did an exercise where I was blindfolded on Mr. Big’s back, meditating as he was slowly led by another animal communicator around the arena. Before we started, I told the facilitator that I was worried about my recurring back spasms and feared riding a horse would trigger one. She told me to tell Mr. Big my worries before getting on his back. It hadn’t even occurred to me to do that. So I intuitively connected in with him and told him directly that I was worried about potential back pain.
Half way through the meditation, Mr. Big stopped in his tracks. The animal communicator who was leading him couldn’t get him to start moving again. When she connected in with him, he told her, “This is what Julie needs right now.”
Afterwards, I realized Mr. Big stopped right when I felt the first twinge of subtle pain in my back. I was blown away by his connection to me, but also realized that being vulnerable with him and honest about how I felt was powerful. He had responded literally by taking a stand for me—exactly what I needed.
I had a cat once who I'd intuitively asked to stop waking me up in the wee morning hours each day, only for her to continue doing it. It wasn’t until I expressed to her why I needed to sleep in and how important sleep was to me that she changed her behavior.
Our animals are always wanting us to acknowledge how we feel and express our truths. It’s usually hard for us humans to ask for help, but I believe that’s what we’re here to do—step up for another member of the herd when they’re in need or let the herd know when we’re feeling vulnerable.
It’s not luck to be in that situation…it’s the beautiful, natural order. 💜