Animal Talk Animal Communication Penelope Smith
Penelope Smith Animal Communicator talks with animals
Penelope Smith Animal Talk Animal Communication
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Animal Communication Adventures

Squirrel reading book

Real-life stories from people who studied animal communication and applied what they learned with life-changing revelations and results.


I will never forget Peaches, a small, black and white female cat who was left in my care when her person left town. She was a "scaredy-cat," hiding from people and other cats in the neighborhood. A few weeks after arrival, she came in with a bloody bite on her back, delivered by another cat in the neighborhood. I cleaned and put ointment on the wound, expecting it to heal with no problem. However, as soon as it would scab over, Peaches would scratch it open. A variety of first aid attempts failed, as she was determined to get at that wound. Eventually, the bloody area extended from the original 1/2 inch to a gory 2-3 inches, and the hair around the area was falling out.

Black and white cat face

This was 1971, and I was a spiritual counselor for people. I had communicated with animals all my life, never losing the inborn ability to understand other beings telepathically, no matter the species. I was about to expand the healing power of that telepathic connection.

Peaches became my first non-human client. I sat down and counseled her as I would a human being in trouble. I asked her specific questions, and she answered me telepathically, transmitting mental images of other cats scaring and attacking her along with her accompanying emotional distress. Facing these frightening incidents released a lot of accumulated emotion, and she visibly relaxed.

As we continued our session, she discovered that keeping the wound there and making it worse was actually a solution to her problem of being afraid of people and other animals. She figured that if she made her body very ugly, people and cats would stay away from her. It was working, though making her life miserable in the process. When she uncovered this past decision, she purred contentedly.

By the next day, her wound had scabbed over. Within a week, the hair had grown back so you couldn't tell she had been hurt. Even more amazing was that Peaches no longer ran away when people entered the room, but instead she curled up on their laps and purred! And other cats no longer picked on her.

In counseling animals and their people since that time I have seen countless similar "miracles" of healing. Here’s another example:

I was called to consult with a dachshund named Charlie who had broken his leg, which was in a cast. The problem was that no matter what the veterinarian or anyone did, Charlie managed to get the cast off. The vet warned that the dog would be lame the rest of his life if the leg was not allowed to set properly.

Dachshund black and tan lying down alert

When I arrived, Charlie was limping and rather grouchy. During our consultation Charlie communicated to me about how he broke his leg and how upset he was with his person. He had been placed in the front seat of a truck at a ranch that his person was visiting. As the truck pulled out of the driveway, he saw her walking away. Thinking that she was abandoning him, he jumped out the window of the moving vehicle to get back to her, and fell on his leg at an angle.

By fully communicating about the trauma, reviewing the events, emotions, pain, and thoughts surrounding the injury, Charlie released both his emotional and physical distress. Then, to everyone’s amazement, he started running around playfully. He was so enthusiastic that we had to calm him down to ensure the leg wouldn't be overstressed.

Charlie was now very affectionate with his person, when he had previously acted very distressed around her. His leg healed quickly and in perfect alignment. His person realized how intelligent and loving her little dog was and how necessary it was to communicate her intentions and actions to him to prevent future misunderstandings and consequent mishaps.

I could give numerous everyday examples of happier animals who visibly changed after being communicated with and understood by people. People also benefit from the understanding, and deep connection that occurs.

Our animal friends have so much to teach us about our own physical, emotional, and spiritual natures. They reflect back to us our joys and our pains, our clarity and our unawareness. All species can benefit from the harmony that occurs with good communication. The healing power of interspecies telepathic communication, a birthright that has been lost to many in our culture, is well worth restoring.

NATHAN Robin Nichols

In the late 1970s, I was working at a health facility where I met Penelope Smith, then a health and spiritual counselor for people and also an animal communicator. At that time, I had a little Welsh corgi mix dog named Nathan. He was about a year old. My two young daughters found him when he was a puppy, running down our busy street, and brought him in.

Welsh corgi looking up

The entire time Nathan lived with us, we had a thick layer of newspapers by the front door for him to use if he needed to go to the bathroom in our small apartment between walks. He NEVER used them, preferring to go anywhere and everywhere else in the house, especially on the carpet, which was by then ruined. I had pretty much given up on ever training Nathan to use the papers and was in the process of throwing the carpet out when I heard that Penelope might be able to help. I honestly thought it was pretty far-fetched that she could communicate telepathically with Nathan and in any way get him to understand and use the newspapers, but I thought it was at least worth one try.

Penelope came over a few days later, and I introduced her to my daughters and to Nathan. Everyone liked her right away. She greeted all of us, and then sat down with Nathan, and just looked at him, and he looked at her. This went on for about ten minutes. The whole time I was thinking... mmm hmmm... well... we'll see.

Finally, Penelope started laughing and said she understood the problem. She said Nathan had been in a litter of puppies a few blocks from us, and kept with the other pups on the screened-in back porch, which was covered all over with newspapers. Of course the puppies used the newspapers for their bathroom. The owners of the mother dog and the pups kept saying, "If they don't stop pooping and peeing all over the place, I'm going to get rid of them! Take them to the pound!"

The small children of the house heard this and decided to save the puppies. They started placing them on people's doorsteps around the neighborhood. Apparently, Nathan just took off and ran down the street where my daughters intercepted him. Penelope said that Nathan had definitely gotten this idea: “IF I PEE ON THE PAPERS, THEY'LL GET RID OF ME."

After explaining to Nathan that we had no intention of EVER getting rid of him, and showing him the newspaper area and putting him on it and praising him and letting him know that we'd think very highly of him if he peed there, she smiled at him and at us and left. I thought to myself... hmm... well... we'll see... uh huh... ahem... until about thirty minutes later, when Nathan peed on the newspapers! We were all happy, and Nathan lived with us for twelve more years and always faithfully used his papers.

That was only the beginning of many consultations with our animal friends, which were all the same miracle. It took me years to understand how sentient, conscious, and intelligent our animal friends really are, and that OF COURSE they understood Penelope and could communicate with her.


I communicated with a 175-pound pot-bellied pig. He spoke right up about how annoying his pen mate was. He told me that she "gets in his space" and it is very irritating. He was perfectly fine as the human's only companion and kept attacking her (the human) to try and get across how unhappy he was now, being a "duo." He longed for the old days, when he was a baby and lived in the house. He missed snuggling with the human.

We worked out an agreement that he would be allowed out of the pen each day to spend time alone on the patio with his human. His human said he could cruise wherever he wanted in the backyard when she was out there as long as he didn't eat the bushes. (The yard looked like a park at Disneyland, perfectly manicured.) No more biting or attacking, but nudging for attention was acceptable. He was so-o-o-o happy. He promptly lay down next to her and fell asleep. The human said she'd be happy to bring her sleeping bag out when the weather was cooler and snuggle with him again.

Then she had me ask him why he got so upset and wouldn't let her trim his toenails. She reported that she has resorted to giving him beer to calm him down. He said that he loved the beer so he particularly looked forward to trimming time so that he could cause a big stink and get this drink. I told him that beer wasn't especially good for him and throwing a fit to get it would not be in his best interests. She then told him that she would give him a sip of beer occasionally if he would stop fighting her on the toenails.

Later, the human had not fully latched the pen gate and the other pig came wandering out. In one of the sweetest moments of my career, he ambled over from across the yard, nudged me with his snout and ever so shyly and softly said, "Excuse me, but you promised me that I could be out here alone." We promptly locked up the other one, until it was her time out of the pen.

I then spent another hour talking to the human about spiritual books, essential oils, and my own spiritual journey. This is something that I rarely do. I usually wrap up the consultation and leave. With tears in her eyes, she asked how she could find a meditation group to join. I said that she was welcome to visit ours as we have an open door policy for anyone interested.

Now here is the kicker. That night the pig came to me in my dream with this message, "I orchestrated this whole aggressive behavior act so that my human could meet you. I knew that you would invite her to visit and eventually become part of your meditation group. She is ready to blossom spiritually and needs contact with people like you. She has been searching for people of "like mind" unsuccessfully. Thank you for helping her. I really love her and I know you will too."

This is where I began to think that I had gone over the edge. It took me a long time to come out of the closet and not think that I was nuts talking to animals. So when I get messages in a dream, I think that I have lost it. Yet, the message was absolutely clear and to the point. I now accept that it is in the realm of the Universe for a pig to orchestrate a meeting.


The thrill of communicating telepathically with animals appears, like the animals themselves, in many distinct forms. As I've become gradually more free of limiting, judgmental thoughts such as "I can't communicate with this animal because I have no rapport with its species," or "I'm terrible at receiving messages, so it's no use.”I've been treated to diverse, delightful experiences with a variety of beings. Three encounters, described below, reminded me that I must only remain open, and the Earth's creatures will respond, trusting and teaching me, all in their own fashion.

Female robin sideview on branch
As I was exercising in a fitness center, a robust robin came hopping 'round the full-length window.

"Please come closer," I thought. "Let me observe and admire you." She kept picking at the ground, apparently oblivious to or ignoring my request.

"Oh well, telepathic communication doesn't always work!" I was quick to tell myself. Then I pictured exactly where I wanted the robin to stand—closer to me, a little to the left, next to a fallen pine cone.

To my surprise, she went directly to the target. Alone in the fitness room, I whistled loudly, cheering and thanking her.

Then I told her that I raise parakeets (which I described), and that if she'd hop toward me again, this time toward a big twig I was focusing on, I’d know for sure she understood. And, through me, many readers would also know.

Mademoiselle Robin barely looked up from her worm—searching, while hopping to the exact spot I had pictured. She could see me swinging my arms as I exercised, but it didn't scare her.

"Okay, would you consider playing this game with me just once more? It is a game now. You don't have to prove anything."

With that, my robin friend hopped toward me not once but three more times, still foraging, the last two hops unsolicited, yet propelling her to the precise spot I had visualized until she was nearly pressed against the window, closer than any wild bird I had ever seen there!

Recently I visited a "power place," an intensely fertile, spiritual environment steeped in natural beauty and profound, healing energy. Ambling along an open trail, I observed a tan pony with a long, cream-colored mane. He stood alone in a grassy, fenced field overlooking the Pacific Ocean. The area included a small gazebo for a few resident children. I walked slowly toward the pony, talking softly to let him know my intentions.

Pony with flaxen mane face

I'm rather timid around horses, due to my unfamiliarity with them (and also because of their imposing size, my being a short, lightweight, parakeet-oriented person!). But I knew this fellow must be gentle, living amidst children. So, to boost my self-confidence, I pictured myself as one of several kids playing with him.

As I approached, he seemed to feel I was bringing something to eat (didn't everyone?). So I said, "Hi. I just came over to meet you. Sorry if I'm disappointing you, but I don't have any food with me." To my surprise, I got the distinct impression that he was hinting, "Oh yes, you do-oooo!"

Before I could wonder if I had imagined this message, his enormous mouth reached toward my sweatshirt pocket. Laughing, I realized I had understood, and he was certainly right. I reached deep into my pocket, and, baring his big friendly teeth, the perspicacious pony quickly consumed my favorite, fresh-picked wildflowers!

Descending steep steps and jagged rocks to meditate by the sea, I glimpsed two tiny, tan creatures. Unused to reptiles, I could only guess (and later confirm) that they were lizards.

I didn't want to startle the pair as I walked through their "home," so I told them telepathically that I'd pass by without harming them. To my delight, they stayed. I removed several layers of clothing and sat on a warm rock, surrounded by sand. Something in the lizards' throats now moved up and down, as they concentrated on me.

I began speaking aloud, thinking I could direct my communication better that way. One— Lizzie, I called her—got scared and ran away. Her friend or mate, Leandro, remained, never taking his eyes off me.

I thought maybe he was too scared to run, but instead he seemed to be actively listening. His eyes were such tiny slits I could barely see them, but our visual contact told me I had his full attention.

"I know you understand me," I said, admittedly glad no one else was within earshot. "Are you surprised I'm talking to you? Bet you've never interacted like this with a human before! You're very brave to hang out with me."

I paused. He waited.

"There's a woman named Penelope," I continued, "and she communicates with all kinds of beings. Maybe you know her?" (Half-kidding, half-not!)

Leandro listened a while longer, then ran — toward me! Now we had both pushed beyond our respective boundaries or instincts. Humility and gratitude filled me as I continued, telling him about my birds at home — much smaller, I explained, than those seabirds perched nearby.

Soon Leandro ran toward me again, continuing to stare into my eyes. Now he was about five feet away. I asked him to come closer, to the sweatshirt I had strewn two feet from my body.

"That would show me you really understand. Won't you, please?" Leandro didn't move as I repeated the request.

My mistake. I had asked too much, or he was uncomfortable with the "test." Leandro scurried up the rocks and vanished.

I was disappointed, but then, almost instantly, Lizzie reappeared!

"... and you're very brave, too," I told her. Though she had been out of sight, I suspected she'd "overheard" my whole conversation with Leandro.

"I'm a writer," I explained, now thoroughly comfortable conversing with a lizard, "so I'm going to tell people how you and your buddy have been listening to me. Many of them will be really surprised to hear about this!"

A bird flew overhead; Lizzie looked up, then back at me. She lifted her leg, barely wider than a toothpick, resting exquisitely tiny toes on the corner of a jutting rock, as we humans might rest our elbows on a tabletop, concentrating, head in hand.

Small lizard on rock

"Please continue the discourse," I envisioned her saying.

I chatted a bit longer about how I viewed life, marveling at her attentiveness. What subtle, inner wisdom did she possess? How honored I felt, adding morsels to her world of knowledge!

Soon I realized, wistfully, that it was time for me to go. It had been so satisfying to sense Lizzie absorbed in my thoughts; I didn't need precise, reciprocal messages to validate our communion.

To avoid scaring Lizzie when I stood, I told her I would quickly grow "very, very big," but that I wouldn't touch or hurt her. I visualized my giant form moving slowly and quietly past her, then away.

I donned shoes, socks, a sweater and sweatshirt. Despite the movement, Lizzie didn't leave. I stood and walked in front of Lizzie, past Lizzie, repeating that she was safe and didn't need to go away. She trusted and understood.

"Thank you," I said, climbing the rocks. "I'll return in a few days, so you can look for me then. If not, I may never see you or your friend again!"

I continued to climb, turning back often, watching Lizzie watch me. "But," I added telepathically, "I want you and Leandro to know that this experience will always be with me. I'll never forget our connection."

Chilly and rushed, I stopped near the top of the cliffs. I wanted to look down one last time, yet dreaded the sight of bare rocks. Already I was missing the gaze of my ancient, newfound friend.

But there in the distance, though she seemed a mere speck, Lizzie remained, listening...


I received a call from a woman in tears. Her cat, Si Mu, had been missing for three days. I took a description of the kitty, got descriptions of other animals in the area and did a deep meditation and prayer session. I then received images from a horse. This horse was sending me pictures of herself and the surrounding area. The woman, Francesca, did not mention there was a horse there but only told me of a bull, cow, several dogs and three more cats. I also saw a sunrise and light coming through wooden boards. There was a dark hole and tall trees. During this communication I also felt cold, dampness, and live energy from Si Mu.

I called Francesca back and told her what I had seen in my meditations: the horse, tall trees, the eastern direction, the dark hole, the sun coming through wood boards, and my bodily feelings. She was amazed. She had forgotten about an old mare on the property to the east in a back, fenced pasture surrounded by tall poplar trees. I told her to check all structures like wells in that area. I knew the kitty was stuck somewhere and could not come home but that she was alive and Francesca needed to go out and find her.

Siamese cat walking through grass

The next morning, I had a nearly incoherent message from Francesca. She had walked to the property to the east, passed the horse, who came to the fence to meet her and nuzzled her body as if to tell her she was on the right path. She walked through the tall trees to an area where there once was a reservoir. After about thirty minutes she saw an area that was covered with wooden slats and several were broken through. Twenty feet down this earthen shaft were beautiful kitty eyes looking up at her.

A TREE'S JOB Kenneth G. Urquhart

I was in a service station deep in the Bronx, getting a gearbox changed. The dingy waiting room was awful, but far better than what was outside. In it already were two African-American gentlemen and one Hispanic.

Their conversation seemed listless. They took no apparent notice of me. I picked up a tattered magazine.

After some moments, the Hispanic gentleman suddenly sparked into life. His voice started to vibrate with intensity. He had a story to tell. I listened.

At some time in his past, he revealed, he had been in the U.S. Army and had got into trouble. He and another miscreant had been sent to a military place of correction in upstate New York. His offense was evidently not serious because after a while there he and the other man were free to walk around. It happened that the other man had been brought up in an orphanage on a large estate, and that orphanage was right next door to the military place they were staying.

The other man took our narrating friend for a walk into the orphanage property. It included a hospital in a building set apart from the orphanage itself. They approached the hospital on a path bordered by a line of stately old trees.

Tree lined path

As they made their way along this path, our friend noticed that out of the bark of the trees was oozing some very dark rather slimy substance. The nearer they got to the hospital, the more he saw coming out of the trees.

"I kept asking myself, what could this stuff be?" he told us.

I could see that the very last tree, the most magnificent of them all, had far more of it than the others. I got to that end tree, and by this time I was very curious. I really wanted to know what was going on. I stopped by the last tree, looking at the slimy stuff, asking "What is this?"

He paused, like a good storyteller. His eyes opened wide.

"Do you know, that tree answered me? I distinctly heard it say to me:

'I take the poisons out of the people in that hospital over there, so they can get better. I process it and put it out of me in this liquid you are looking at and wondering about.'

I was just amazed. A tree talking to me! A tree taking poisons out of people's bodies? And talking to me about it?

"I didn't know what to say. I was speechless. Imagine, a Hispanic man who can't say a word!

"But then," he continued, suddenly becoming a little solemn, introspective, perhaps regretful. "The tree said something that really stopped me in my tracks. That tree really made me look at my whole life. That tree then said to me,

'Yes, here I am doing my job. Tell me, are YOU doing YOURS?'"

He came back from his memories and looked sadly at his two companions.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"I do, I do!" I cried. "Every word ! Thank you!"


While visiting Wesselman Old Growth Forest in Evansville, Indiana, I had an amazing encounter with a mosquito. The experience was part of an assignment for an animal communication course in which we were to connect with a nature element.

It was late June. As soon as I arrived, I was engulfed by mosquitoes buzzing around my face and arms as I walked through the woods. I shooed, swatted, and ran from them, but they persisted.

We had just had the class about examining our beliefs about animals we didn't like or feared. I decided to sit down and commune with the mosquitoes and see if I could feel where they were coming from spiritually. I let them know I appreciated them for who they were and would endeavor to remain still while they flew near me and not swat at them. In return, I respectfully requested that they not land on me or bite me during this exercise.

After a few seconds, one of the mosquitoes landed on my thumb. As I instinctively started to shoo her away, I decided to remain true to my word and just observe and appreciate her. The mosquito slowly lowered her proboscis and began penetrating my skin. The skin over my thumb knuckle is very thick and I doubted she could penetrate it. I was amazed at the sturdiness of her proboscis as she stabbed my knuckle.

I felt the sting, which often caused me to slap and kill mosquitoes. However, I remained calm and observed her as she began to drink my blood. I watched her abdomen become pink and then turn bright red. A deep sense of admiration came over me as I communed with her and willingly sacrificed my blood for her.

When the mosquito finished her meal, she flew away. I knew I would have a large welt and severe itching for days to come, as I am very sensitive to the allergens in mosquito saliva, even if they finish their meal and withdraw most of it. Much to my surprise, a lesion never developed and I experienced no itching, swelling, or pain.

Our connection and mutual respect was a positive experience for both of us. It must have dampened my body’s inflammatory reaction. My body did not recognize the mosquito’s bodily fluids as foreign because I experienced her as a kindred spirit.


Shortly after taking your Animal Communication weekend course
with my son earlier this year in Point Reyes, California, I was over at a woman friend of mine's house for a meeting.

She has a large golden lab (named "Sophie") who loves to chew on tennis balls (and many other things as well). She seems to take great pleasure in having something in her mouth quite often.

Yellow lab face panting

During this particular meeting, one woman was really kvetching (complaining) about her life situation. After a while, I tired of listening to her as she tends to do this quite often, and I started tuning in to Sophie in the manner you have suggested. Initially Sophie was observing the complaining woman, then she glanced around the room (with the usual tennis ball in her mouth) and at one point she tuned into me.

I got the message "All this woman really needs is her own tennis ball and she'd feel better."

I laughed and initially discounted this message as my own humorous projection, but as I felt into it, it seemed very "logical" from Sophie's perspective. I even felt Sophie wanting to give her an extra ball if she had it.
B.B., California

Your book, Animals, Our Return To Wholeness, (now titled When Animals Speak) inspired me so much, in so many ways.

I have a lot of stray animals (44 cats, 4 rabbits, 2 roosters, and a chicken in a house!) and I have been concentrating on the physical aspect of life for years, feeling overwhelmed by the suffering of animals. There is still a lot of upheaval in my life and I'm not exactly sure where I want to be but at least I can somehow detach myself and look at things from a more spiritual point of view than when I'm in the middle of some drama. 

I've been experimenting with a stray cat (not one of mine, since I think I feel too guilty to be open to communicating with my own animals, as despite my great efforts, I know a lot of them aren't happy). This cat, who I sometimes feed and say hello to is an elderly lady who has managed to attract loads of loving and caring people (unusual in a country where animal welfare is basically a foreign concept) and who has a habit of snoozing very deeply.

I thought that for my first lesson I would try a strong one-way message, which she was sure to respond to and then I would get my proof (boring human habit). I stood two meters away from her and sent her the message to wake up and get her biscuits.

I was shocked to find her instantly opening her eyes, springing up and running towards me. Usually I would have to spend sometime calling her at a close range.

Two days later I thought I'd try again, but this time I made sure that my bag of cat biscuits was tightly wrapped in another bag so that there would be no whiffs of tasty biscuits leaking out, and I stood about four meters away. Again, it was instant and she was eating her snack within seconds.

A week later I went back but couldn't find her anywhere. I was disappointed and irritated but thought I might as well try calling her telepathically. It took longer than the other two times and I was just about to go when I saw a tabby gray and white speck coming round the block and running towards me.

I couldn't believe it! The whole thing couldn't have taken more than five minutes and there she was seemingly saying: "So what do you think of that?" I really felt humbled.

The next time I saw her she was being fed and patted by two boys under ten, again an extremely unusual sight in this part of the world, and I just thought, "What a cool cat teacher I've got!"
A.M., Abu Dhabi, U.A.E.Q

Some friends came to visit the Big Island (Hawaii) for their honeymoon. I took them out to Kealakekua Bay for their first experience with the dolphins.

While I was herding their kayak, I looked down to see 50-60 dolphins. I noticed a female trailing the pod with a fishing net wrapped around her snout.

Hawaii spinner dolphins group

Without hesitating, I dove to meet her as she turned toward me at about twenty feet down. She stopped swimming and awaited my approach. Without hesitating (and she allowed), I took hold of her snout with both hands to try to remove the net, to no avail. It was deeply embedded into her skin.

With no leverage underwater, I then looked her in the eye, and as if she was in total sync with me and me with her, I reached my right arm around her head for leverage as I began to remove the net with my left hand.

She flooded me with sounds and loads of gratitude for my efforts to assist with her predicament. I was underwater far longer than I thought I could be.

After I removed the net, she stayed still as I now had both my arms around her in an embrace. Then I realized that she was instilling me with some encodement that I wasn't able to grasp just then, as I had become aware that I had been down with her for several minutes and it was time to breathe again. I released my embrace and she swam off to catch up with her family.

After re-surfacing and sharing the experience with my friends, we went back, loaded up and went to the Aloha Cafe for Sunday brunch. Needless to say, I was so dolphin-zoned from my experience, that after ordering food, I simply began to weep with gratitude as the encodement began to percolate into a translation that brought me to my knees.

As I was removing the net, my dolphin sister had been infusing me with an encouraging directive to:

Do the same for your people.
Remove the net from their consciousness. Remove the net from their hearts!

She is still singing to me as I write this. The blessing continues to be. Even my diving is now deeper: fifty feet and staying under much longer than before the experience.....and more...and more. I.S., Hawaii

Man holding rooster facing him smiling

For further adventures with animals and their wisdom,
discover the
Millennial Messages for Humankind received by Penelope

Since the 1970s, I've had a mission to bring forth a hidden ability found in everyone. The secret language that unlocks the door to understanding all species. I created the title interspecies telepathic communication to show the wider application of communicating with animals, plants, mountains, rivers…all life, in and beyond physical form. Echolng indigenous wisdom: Everything is alive. Everything communicates.

My vision: People recovering their ability to communicate with other species—realizing it is within them and can be remembered, recognized, practiced, and developed. Exchanging thoughts and feelings telepathically with other species bringing rich realizations and positive change. People living more fulfilling lives as they walk on Earth with other species and all life in mutual understanding and compassion. All beings and Mother Earth enjoying this deep connection.

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