by Deb Schnitta
have an orientation to the process of healing that is something we as
human beings strive for. They open, take in what is 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.
and acupuncturists that treat animals 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.
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.
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.
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