Just when you think there is hope for the natural world you get assaulted with stories and photos of animal abuse even from the most unexpected sources, like the Danish zookeepers who made a public spectacle of their orchestrated bloody baby giraffe murder. I am not going to repeat the details here; you can find the references easily on an Internet search. Then there are the recurring photos of Michael Vick's butchered and wounded dogs and the many many daily postings of local animal abuse cases on Facebook. I don't like viewing these but I glance at them. Not with the curiosity of an onlooker slowing down to suckin the details of a car wreck but as a woman compelled to feel the suffering of other beings so that The fire within me illuminates the path for healing work. I, like millions of others, am drawn to volunteer in cruelty prevention and abuse recovery. I do it through animal communication and Reiki. And while I don't pray for the parallel suffering of the perpetrators, I do hope for karma and Divine justice. And I know I'm supposed to pray for the healing of the abusers, so I do with admitted reluctance.
If the earthly powers of reason can't stifle the violent two legged beast, then I look to the forces of Spirit for reprieve.
I still don't understand the 2013 killing of Lennox in Northern Ireland and maintain my membership in the "I AM LENNOX" group. I fear what might happen if I ever do "get over it." I worry that fading nemory diminishes our capacity for compassion.
Now let me share the story of Midnight.
Here I am with her, almost fully recovered, and her generous adopted mom. I was doing a communication session at a Palm Beach County animal fair raising funds for local adoptions and animal welfare. The reading was to help her ease into a normal life filled with love. All she remembers is seeing the fire, nothing else, but she still suffers from fear and anxiety. It is important to make her feel beautiful. That dress she's wearing isn't a fashion statement; it's utilitarian. It hides and protect the deep and wide bald spots and burn scars that run from her head down to her tail.
At times like these I am grateful for the great soulful writers like Herman Melville who have stayed with me over the years.. At the end of "Bartelby the Sriverner," a tale of a, lamb-like soul who willed himself to death as the indifferent world ploughed around him, the narrator, the conscience of the world, ends with a two word lamentation of solitary suffering. Do we grieve for the creature who suffered the pain or do we grieve more that our society continues without a soul? "Ah, humanity!"