Elizabeth Anglin - Psychic

Last night two things happened that made me happy.  When I went out to feed the horses at late dusk, I found a great horned owl perched in the tree above the pasture gate.  It didn’t fly away when I opened the barn door.  It looked at me while I looked at it.  I decided not to offend it by flipping on the bright outside barn lights, and instead did my feeding chores in the half-light of dusk, with the owl watching from the bottom bare branches of the aspen outside the gate.

Why does it make me happy to see this owl?

Some people believe seeing an owl is a bad omen.  I am not one of those people.  To me seeing the owl means that I have been blessed with the presence of a predator, a predator that can help restore the balance.

Later last night the sound of joyful yipping erupted in the front yard.  A coyote had caught something delicious for dinner and was announcing the good news to all who cared to hear it.  Wyatt, my ever watchful mastiff, did not care to hear it – and he barked back his ferocious displeasure at the coyote.  I did not let Wyatt out of the house to give chase.  I want the coyote to hunt in my yard.  My yard needs balance.

I am able to be happy with the predators in my yard because I don’t want or expect what is unreasonable.

I don’t expect my cats to be safe outdoors.  When I let them outside, I accompany them for their safety.  I don’t want my yard to be a wilderness free zone.  I let the grass grow to seed before I mow it, and I leave the wildflowers alone.  I don’t want to have a small dog that could be considered prey to a coyote or an owl.  So I keep a big dog.  He can hold his own.

It makes no sense to me that I should demonize the keepers of the balance simply because I might want to have something that could be harmed by them carrying out their roles as balance bringers to the harmonious whole.

I want to give up what is out of balance, and embrace what is.

Note: When I nine years old, I told my mother that I wanted to be a hermit when I grew up.  I couldn't articulate why at the time, but I was sure that being a hermit was what I wanted more than anything.  Thirty-five years later I still want to be a hermit, and I can tell you the reasons why.

Why I want to be a Hermit when I grow up.

I want to be a hermit when I grow up because then I will be able to spend all my time in the woods with the animals.  As a hermit, I will notice that no springtime is the same as any other springtime.  I will notice that butterflies do emerge before the snow melts, and that old aspen trunks are easiest to remove from the ground the day after the snow has melted.

I want to be a hermit because I only want to deal with the natural order of things, and not the subjectively perceived order of things, the made-up man made imposed order of things. I want to be a hermit because I like noticing the little things.  Bugs, rocks, birds, buds, what color the grass is today, and whether or not there are mushrooms in the manure pile.

I want to be a hermit because I don’t want to exist as a tool in any one else’s campaign – whether that campaign is a war, a bid for re-election, a corporate takeover, an article (especially not by a skeptic), a book, or a campaign to get more attention by creating more conflict and drama through gossip and innuendo.

I want to be a hermit because I like actual mud and dirt,not proverbial mud and dirt.  Walking through the mud of snowmelt streams in springtime is joyful experience for me.  Most people don’t like real mud and dirt as much as I do, and they like proverbial mud and dirt much more than I do.  It’s too bad they don’t like real mud and dirt as much as proverbial mud and dirt, they are missing out on all the wonderful things they might experience if they did.

 I want to be a hermit when I grow up because it would challenge me to continue to concentrate on the nature of “real” reality, without the distractions of “imposed upon” reality,which often seem to kick me out of my body into realms of emotional stress and trauma that can refuse to depart my mental space for decades.

The sheep arrived on a Monday morning.  Not just a few sheep. Not just 10 or 20 sheep. It was more like 200 sheep with another 200 lambs.  200 lambs calling for mom every time she gets more than 10 feet away.  200 moms calling for their lambs everytime their lambs call for them.

Wow.  This is definitely not quiet.

I haven't posted lately because my life has been so quiet, and unfortunately, some part of my ego likes to post when it thinks the post will be dramatic, interesting, a wiz, bang, pop! of a message. 

But, there haven't been many wizzes, bangs or pops around to write about lately.

Right now, two very different dogs are sleeping on the couch.  A black lab and a Tibetan mastiff.  The mastiff runs on a very quiet current of energy, nothing too extreme or overly enthusiastic, except for food left on the plate after dinner, or food being eaten as a snack in the middle of the day.  His gentle eyes look up to me so full of hope and expectancy.  "Your cracker is my cracker, right?"  "Your cookie will be shared with me, right?" "I love you for sharing your cookie with me in the future, you know... that moment when you finally do share your cookie with me... I love you for that." 

The black lab is more boisterous and less food motivated.  "It's morning! Wake up! Wake up! I'm so happy to see you! Happy day! Happy day!  Let's play tug of war! Come on! Come on!  I love you!  I't's so much fun to see you again today! Come on! Let's play!" 

After feeding the dogs and the cats "If you are feeding the dogs, you are going to feed us, so get on with it... where is it? Where's the wet food? Come on, we are waiting.  Well, finally!" 

I put on my muck boots and wade through the snow to the barn. I enter through the feed room door where TNT can see me first "Ahhh..." he says as he spies me in the feed room for the first time each morning. "It's breakfast.  It's so nice when you bring me my bucket of mash." he lets out a deep, resonant nicker and happy sigh as I open the door to the tack room where his soaked mash is waiting in the sink.  Otto throws his head up and down while I feed T.  "Come,,, On!  Come.. On!  No... Really!  I'm .... Hungry.  Come..... on!"   Once he gets his sweet feed, he attacks it, throws his ears back, and warns me "This is mine, don't even think about me sharing it with you!" "OK sweetheart." I say, and leave him to eat in peace by grabbing a snow shovel and heading out to clear the walkway and the pasture gate of snow.

The sky is blue, the aspens are a shade less white than the snow, but seem made to color coordinate.  The barn eaves are covered in icicles, some five feet long.  The icicles sing in a soft chorus. "Drip-drop. Drip-drop. Drip-drip-drop. Drip-drop."

As I said.  Not much happens around here.  It's pretty quiet.

I have decided that Chipmunks should be made the animal of the week.  "Why?"  You may ask.  I can only provide this initial answer, "Because there are just so darn many of them." 

Chipmunks in Western Colorado -  Tamias quadrivittatus - are not threatened.  They are listed on the IUCN Red List as a "species of least concern." 

I imagine the people who are least concerned with chipmunks are not trying to grow flowers on their back porch and haven't struck up a deal with the humingbirds to provide them lovely luscious nectar giving blooms throughout the summer and early fall.

Now, Yes.. I know I am complaining about chipmunks, and how can anyone, least of all an animal communicator, complain about chipmunks?  They are so darned cute! 

Well, its true, chipmunks are cute, and they do some very nice things for the environment.  They help spread tree seeds, establishing seedling trees by forgetting where they hide seeds when  they scatter hoard, or by abandoning their burrows when they larder hoard. They also help spread fungi, especially fungi that are important to forest ecology. Beneficial symbiotic tree fungi.   And truffles.  Where would we be without truffles?

Beyond all of their important jobs as members of the forest community, while on their eating and food hoarding mission that leads to the spread of trees and tree loving fungi - and beyond thier ability to completely decimate my porch flowers, what chipmunks really do phenomenally well is entertain Wyatt (my dog).

They entertain him by sitting on logs, taunting him with their warning chirps, and then hiding under the logs as he tries to catch them, taunting him further with more warning chirps.

He never catches them.  And he tries in earnest.

So far we have counted the number of chipmunk to dog skirmishes since midsummer, and the skirmish win record currently stands at Chipmunks - 192,  Wyatt - 0.

So, for their bravery (in tantalizing a very large dog) and audacity (in eating all of my porch flowers) and their important role in the forest eco-system., hereby award Chipmunks the "Animal of the Week" award. 

What does this award mean? 

It means that I won't kick the super fat, super glossy chipmunk who all eats the grain Otto spills in the morning,  out of the barn when I see him.  It means I won't let the cat chase and catch the chipmunks who live in the rocks around the patio.  It means I will appreciate all the chipmunks living around me this week, no matter how annoyed I am that my flowering plants are now just stalks... previously flowered stalks.

I will celebrate the chipmunks this week, and the stalks, and the tree seedlings, and the fungi, and the well challanged and tired out dog they leave in their wake. 

Viva La Chipmunk!

Hi All,

I have friends in Florence, Texas (outside of Austin) who are watching their town get ready to dry up and blow away. They are not just having drought, they are having really super duper incredibly unbelievable bad drought.

So, when you have a chance, please say a prayer for the folks living in Florence, Texas. 

They need rain.

Thanks,

Elizabeth

It's that time of year... kitties are escaping and playing "wild thing" wherever they live.  City or Mountain, they feel the call of the wild to mate, mate, mate. And hunt, hunt, hunt, hunt!  To add to the headache, like their wild counterparts, the Mountain Lion and the Lynx, they are so darn good at hiding, once they get out of the house they can be very hard to find.

So, please be very careful with your kitties at this time.  Make sure you watch carefully as you enter and exit your home.  Make sure your petsitters, friends and family members are also careful when entering and exiting your home. 

Though Animal Communication readings are my favorite thing to do, Lost Pet readings are absolutely not.  My heart always leaps in my throat when someone contacts me to ask for a lost cat reading. 

When the reading  information helps, I am ecstatic.   But I never know what the outcome will be.

I like happy endings after lost pet readings.

But I would rather the story never got written at all.

"Religion is something infinitely simple, ingenuous. It is not knowledge, not content of feeling (for all content is admitted from the start, where a man comes to terms with life), it is not duty and not renunciation, it is not restriction: but in the infinite extent of the universe it is a direction of the heart."

-Selected Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke

My guru is Dog.  

No. Seriously.  I mean it.

I have just had the realization that my Dog is my Guru.  Look at his picture...

Is that not the visage of a wise and loving being?  Is that not the epitome of a being that knows the importance of selfless, egoless, love and devotion?  When all other concepts and psycho-physical constituents and identifications with the fallacy of an independently arising self drop away... what will be left?

The wisdom of my Dog.  This is a being who has taught me that it is possible to think no thoughts for 4 seconds at a time.... continuously, until interrupted by an offer to go for a walk, play ball, swim in the pond or have a treat.    This is a being who can maintain intense single-pointed concentration on the cookie, the biscuit, the chewy, the bone, until it is magically transported into his mouth.   This is a being who can masticate the cookie, the biscuit, the chewy, the bone while fully absorbed in samadhi. 

What more can I say? 

This morning, as I exited the barn after feeding the horses, a loud, close elk bugle sounded from behind the barn.  Curious about why the bugle sounded so close, I turned the corner around the back side of the barn.  There ahead of me, cutting across the pasture on a diagonal track from southwest to northeast were two large elk chasing after a coyote. 

The elk each held a taught line in their bodies from front to back.  They were running but still managed to coil like snakes ready to strike.  Their heads were down just slightly below the horizontal plane, ears back, eyes intently focused on the coyote as it spun around in a circle in front of the pond to change directions back toward the southwest.  They both spun around to face it and continued the chase in circles by the pond until the coyote was again headed back on the northeast diagonal, away from the new young calf now lying somewhere in the upper southwest meadow.