When people are cruel to one another, animals feel it. This happens when they experience trauma – such as witnessing the fatal shooting of one of their humans, as Renee Good’s dog did.
I would tell you it also happens when they sense the grief and pain their humans feel over such events, even far away. A horse told me last week he knew human cruelty was “out there” and that it made his beloved person feel angry and discouraged. Then he showed me an image of himself with all four feet planted firmly on the ground: “There is good.”
A few days later, after I read about the killing of Alex Pretti, one of our cats climbed into my lap and gently kneaded my chest, looking into my eyes and purring. This face-to-face kneading was a departure from her usual facing-out, turning-around-a-few- times kneading. Of course she had no idea who Alex Pretti was, what ICE is or what immigration means. No doubt she picked up on the energy and images I carried away from that news story. She knew it was something happening in the human world, and she was there providing evidence of what is good in said world.
I don’t know much about policy or politics, but I know that treating people as if they don’t matter is not only wrong but unnecessary. We can be fair to strangers of all stripes. We can ask better questions. We can, and must, create a kinder world for animals and ourselves.
The crew above liked the Tibetan singing bowl recording I played. Other creatures have been partial to Gregorian chant. If animals depend on their hearing for survival, music appreciation (even preferences) shouldn’t be surprising.
Another example: My father-in-law’s care home had an aviary in the lobby. It was just off the dining room, which was also the site of guitar sing-alongs, concerts and music therapy sessions. After a while I noticed how the finches, mourning doves and other birds responded to the sounds that came through the door. Sometimes they seemed unaffected, flitting and chattering as they had before the program started.
During a selection of piano classics, I walked by to find them all perched, cocking their heads now and then. The human audience, whether transported to another time and place or enjoying the present moment, seemed equally content.
Science has demonstrated the effects of music on the brain, and music therapy is part of many human health and wellness settings. Your grandmother might not remember your name, but she might recognize the melody of a Nat King Cole song, especially if she and Grandpa danced to it.
You can find videos and stories of grieving whales soothed by violins and dogs chilling in their kennels as a cellist performs in the shelter. Even though you’re not there, by watching the animals you can feel how the sound fills and alters the space.
But I don’t think the benefits end with the last note. There is something about music that keeps healing even in the silence, even amid the noise in the world. It might even replace the noise in our heads.
And how many of us have had songs stuck in our heads? More on that in a moment.
A while back I loaded Chant, the popular 1994 album by the Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo, from the CD cabinet into my iTunes. Gregorian chant is prayer sung in Latin, generally without accompaniment. Its development is attributed to Pope Gregory the Great during medieval times, but there is some scholarly uncertainty about that. Regardless, to listen to it is to step into the eternal. You don’t have to know a word of Latin to understand each chant is about God’s presence in any circumstance.
I began to include the chants in my Let Animals Lead® practice, a form of animal Reiki based in meditation. Sometimes I have the music playing softly from my stereo or the phone in my pocket. My favorite is Puer Natus in Bethlehem; take two minutes and check out this lovely video version.
My Let Animals Lead® teacher, Kathleen Prasad, says chanting (of whatever spiritual stripe) unites breath with sound in a way that calms and heals. Where fear and sadness constrict, chanting expands.
“The more expansive you become, the more easily you can feel emotions without being knocked over by them,” she says in her Animal Reiki Source blog. Animals will feel this expansiveness and want to share your strong, balanced space, she continues.
Mildred and I shared meditation with Gregorian chant. (Photo by Nancy Crowe)
On rounds at a farm, I sat down in the shade, pulled up iTunes on my phone and clicked on one of the chants — I believe it was Kyrie Fons Bonitatis (Lord, fountain of mercy). Mildred, a goat who has seen a lot of living, had been lounging on the grass nearby. Now her head swiveled around, ears alert. It wasn’t her “What is that infernal noise?” look (I knew that one). Mildred recognized what she was hearing. She listened with me as we shared a Let Animals Lead® Reiki session. Soon she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun.
I wondered if, in her storied life, Mildred ever spent time in the pasture of a Benedictine monastery. Or, on this day, did she simply tune into a sound and energy connecting her to her creator? The particulars didn’t seem to matter much to Mildred. All I got from her was that she liked hearing it again and it made an already beautiful day — moment, really — even better.
Even though I wasn’t doing the chanting myself, allowing that expansiveness to move from God through the monks through me and Mildred was truly a gift.
I can’t carry a tune in a bucket or any other receptacle. So when I don’t have the actual music playing, I try to carry the energy of the music with me. You could say I keep it “stuck” in my head and heart to share with the animals, however it may benefit them the most.
Think about this … and feel free to share:
If you leave a radio on for your animal friends when you leave the house, what music do you choose?
If you sing or play an instrument, how do they respond?
How does having a song (or chant, or other music) stuck in your head make you feel and respond to others?
This is one of sixteen malnourished, neglected horses taken from a northeast Indiana farm in 2018. (Photo courtesy Friends of Ferdinand)
Those of us who work with animals — vets, zoo employees, rescue volunteers and practitioners like me — often get asked how we can stand to see animals suffer. Doesn’t it break your heart? Wear you down? Make you hate people?
Sometimes, yes. That’s why we are more prone to compassion fatigue, burnout and even suicide. That is a reality.
So is the need for what we do. The need to create a healthier, kinder world for animals is so huge, in fact, that it takes all of us, whatever our line of work or temperament. Illnesses and injuries can happen even when we are doing our best as animal guardians and professionals. They can lead us into a confusing, agonizing array of questions and decisions. Animal cruelty and neglect, whether we come face to face with it or just hear about it, can leave us wondering about our world.
Several years ago, I worked with six of 16 horses rescued from a severe neglect case (photo above) in my area. When I walked into the barn on that cold morning, I saw emaciated bodies, tangled manes and what looked like untreated infections. All of the horses were in various states of confusion; one had all but checked out and stood vacantly in his stall.
You bet I felt sad. And angry. All the things. But I was there to listen to them and share meditation to help them relax and regroup. Having a way to help allowed me to engage in a way I could not have otherwise.
Besides, the six horses before me were more than their body condition scores or how their human had failed them. They had their own personalities, perspectives and hopes. One knew she would probably not survive and wanted no fuss about that. The mare in the stall next to her just wanted to be with friends. The vacant horse showed me an image of a dark room with a sliver of light peeking in. They didn’t need my pity. They needed to be heard and seen.
This is Millie, whose main concern was being with friends. Whether that happened on earth or in spirit wasn’t as important to her.
It’s OK to cry or be mad as hell. Find whatever help and support you need. Then consider what you can do to make things better. Sit quietly with your dog as she is facing the last months or days of her life. Foster a horse for a rescue. Donate money for hay, cat food or medical expenses. No matter how small the effort may be, it will do more good than turning away or joining the calls for retribution on social media.
A cool book I read a few years ago has lots of ideas to get you started. You can also contact a local shelter or rescue and say you want to channel some heartbreak into good action. They’ll get it. Especially if you follow through.
All Creatures 