From Jo Saia – thanks for sharing this post with our readers this week! Check out her website for more stories. https://josaia.com/
The older I get, the more I seem to enjoy being around animals.
I have always loved animals. My parents got a dog at one point when I was a child, but coming from a different culture and with their own childhood wounds, I was not allowed to get too close to this sweet dog. As an only child, I craved that connection, that touch and love. That desire never went away.
I have had love in my life and am grateful. I was married for 12 years and my ex-husband and I have arrived at the place where we can have a friendship with love that is at a distance and respectful of the boundaries of each of our lives. That is such a gift.
I have had other relationships and am grateful for all the caring and love.
I have had and have friends, relationships where I can give and receive love that needs to be shared. I am grateful.
The difference with love of and with animals.
I notice these days, as an elder and with less patience for any need to defend or explain myself, that I tend to feel the most open and comfortable to relax and simply be myself either when I am alone, or in the presence of animals. There is no judgment (except maybe for the look that lets me know that there should be treats available!)
I have had the delight of living with kitties. My last two kitties were with me for 17 years. I miss them still. They made the best sleeping buddies, with their purrs and leaning into me as we all slept in one big pile, where we would end one day and welcome a new one together.
And now, at 71, I do not so easily run to get another pet. I am older, and would need to make sure that they would be taken care of if I should precede them in death. And I have less energy these days, and wonder if I could give them enough of what they might need. Perhaps one day I will consider getting an older pet. We can continue aging together, comforting each other on this path.
A gift from elephants.
I am lucky to have been able to volunteer at our local zoo for the past 11 years. I have been on the Behavior Observation Team with the elephants. Can you imagine? I get to spend several hours during each shift observing and recording the behavior of these amazing beings. How can you not fall in love with a being that you simply get to watch and be in their presence for hours on end? I now have elephants in my heart and will always keep them there.
They gave me gifts. The gift of watching a fellow being simply being who and what they are. The gift of feeling a connection that is beyond words when our male elephant would sometimes simply stand in front of me (with safety gates in between, of course) and we would be in that moment together. It took my breath away. Time would stand still.
My time with the elephants is coming to an end. After losing several of our females, we will soon be moving our only remaining elephant, our male, to a beautiful and spacious elephant sanctuary in Tennessee where he can be around other elephants. This is a place where he can be in peace, as guests are not allowed to visit the elephants. These majestic creatures can simply be themselves in this beautiful place, be given good care and attention, and have thousands of acres in which to roam. They can be with their own kind, if they want, or be alone when they need that.
My heart is aching at this loss and yet I am happy to know that he is going to a beautiful sanctuary where he can be around other elephants. Yet another lesson emerges…love sometimes means letting go.
Growing up learning the comfort of solitude.
I think that one reason that it has been easier for me to be more myself around animals is because I was an only child. I never had siblings to share my childhood with. Yes, I had friends, but they could not really understand the experience of growing up in my family like a sibling would have. I learned to go inside myself, to retreat to my room in silence, to comfort myself in complete solitude. I am an elder now, and seem to crave that sacred solitude more than ever.
This is where I find comfort these days, in the solitude of a forest, and in the presence of non-humans in my life who may come to me and connect in a way that is beyond words.
Words can sometimes be difficult when negotiating the connection with another human. Yet I notice that I can allow animals free reign to cross my boundaries knowing that I will not have to defend who I am or what I feel.
The birds and the bees.
I never thought that I would take such great pleasure in watching the birds bathe in my backyard. Their ballets delight and mesmerize me.
I never thought that I would be out there rescuing bees that may have fallen into the water of the bird baths (I do try and leave a way for them to get out, but they sometimes still get stuck in the water). So, I, who have been fearful of bees most of my life, am out there carefully offering them something to climb onto so that they can be rescued. They remain there resting after being rescued before flying off again. I am grateful.
We can learn from animals.
I sometimes make eye contact with someone’s dog when they walk by me on a path. They will come up to me and, with their owner’s permission, I pet them and talk with them. I feel that connection and love.
I do love my friends. And I have always been someone who does more of the listening than the talking. I know that there are ways that I set that up, but it has been a pattern in my life. And now, I find that I can sometimes get tired of the one-sidedness of that. I can feel drained at times, when someone doesn’t ask how I am, or when they ask me to tell them something happy that happened to me recently, when that is not the mood or place that I am in. That request only serves to let me know that this is what they want to hear and perhaps not the truth of any depression and sadness that I may have been struggling with lately. I do not blame them, but it can leave me with an ache. Perhaps they don’t know what to say if I talk about the deep sadness that I feel sometimes, the sadness that is part of life, the moments of grief that are part of aging.
The truth is that they don’t need to say anything. I simply need someone to sometimes be with me, stay beside me as I express what I am feeling, and hear me and accept me. That would be a gift.
Animals do that. I can cry in front of them and they will often come close and make contact, offering me comfort. That comfort of being seen, heard, and loved, with nothing more and nothing less, can be everything.
The gifts of connection, no matter where we find it.
I know that some people pathologize the deep connections that some of us feel with animals, implying there is something wrong with loving animals as much as we do and not perhaps loving people as much. I would respond to that by saying that it’s a gift to be able to feel that connection with another being, to feel less alone (no matter how we may achieve that), to feel love (no matter where we find it), to feel a part of something greater, to feel the comfort of another being that is beside you, to feel nourished by a mutual bond that is deeper than words can explain. Animals have taught me about pure love, about simply being with each other and bearing witness to the moment, side by side.
Applying the lesson to humans.
Maybe I can try and apply these lessons when being with someone else who may be in deep pain or grief, where words can fail us. Maybe I can try to simply be in my animal body, next to their animal body, witness their pain and be together at that moment in time. Perhaps that may be the greatest gift that I can give right then, this gift of animal connection, being beside each other in the darkness, listening without judgment, loving without words.