It’s getting warmer in the afternoons; our animals always rest a few hours before dusk. They are still, calm, in a joining meditation. This is infectious, especially with the donkeys, the most spiritual animals I’ve ever known. I try to capture their stillness and inner peace. I try to replicate it.
They are not children to me, and I don’t have any desire to dress them or take them to class or know what they are thinking. Our connection is different. I have a child and love her. There is no replacing her.
The donkeys are connected and content just to be with one another. That is how we communicate. We imagine each other.
Other people communicate differently with their animals.
We all do it the way we can. I think I communicate with the donkeys just by thinking about them when they are around. And they return the favor.
In some way, everything in the universe is connected. I feel connected even with trees and the plants on my window sills. And they respond with the shelter and beauty they provide. My Dad, who was an orchid grower, swore by piping in soft music to the “happy” plants in his hothouses. I swear they partied at night, decking themselves out with handsome corsages.