A Bunny Named "Miracle"

I had just arrived in Sedona. A month prior, I packed up and left California for the Arizona desert. My little rented house is secluded, surrounded by trees and looming red rock. I don't know a soul. I'm hiking a nearby trail one morning when I hear a strange cry... almost like a child's scream. It's an awful sound.

I feel uneasy as I creep around a big tree, not sure what I'll find. The sound is unbearable and I fear the worst. I see a bird pecking at something. It's a little ball of fur. A scrub jay is pecking at it's head. I don't want to look... I shouldn't interfere, but it's too late. I know what I'm going to do.

I rush over and startle the bird as I bend down to rescue what looks like a bunny. It's only a week old, just beginning to open its eyes. I bundle her up in my sweatshirt and walk quickly, expecting to be scolded or dive-bombed but there's no resistance. I carefully examine the bunny's head. To my astonishment, there's no blood, not even a scratch... so I name her "Miracle."

I spend the next 5 weeks with Miracle. She is my constant companion; I put her in a hand-knit angora cap. It's a small town so within a week, most everyone knows her. I contact a rabbit expert who tells me to put the animal back where I found it. When I say that's not an option, I'm warned not to bond with her. The rabbit lady instructs me to feed my cottontail cow's milk. But she'll have no part of it. So I try goat's milk. She puts up quite a fight for an 8-day-old fur ball.

I'm beginning to worry; I need a new approach. So I do some research and get some greens, celery, apple, and dandelion, and put them in a blender. I dilute and strain the juice, and then put it in the feeder bottle. I'm elated... it works! I joyfully call the rabbit lady and tell her all about my discoveries, and she says I'm doing everything wrong... especially when I tell her that my little charge is staying in my bedroom. I get reprimanded for being irresponsible and she asks me for my address. I decide not to call her anymore.

The next few weeks go by too fast. I am happier than I've been in years, and that includes a somewhat serious steady boyfriend. How can that compare with little bunny feet that lay against my neck?

She's getting bigger and her tiny teeth are ready for chewing, so I feed her some banana. I know it's not her normal diet, but she loves it! I put a little piece on my lip and she takes it from me. It reminds me of my childhood. My dad used to lay on his back and our rabbit would hop onto his chest and take jelly beans from his mouth. To an animal lover, it's a bit of heaven.

About week 2, I've made a mini desert playground out of my bed. I dig up weeds and small plants, pot them in containers, and spread them out on my sheets. Miracle is in training... or not. She doesn't need me to tell her which ones to eat. She instinctively knows, but it makes me feel like I'm doing my job. She nibbles only the softest, velvety grasses. My bedding is covered with red clay but I don't care at all.

It's week 3 and Miracle is getting too smart. She has figured out how to jump off the bed and is trying to get up to the window sill. A week later, I move my roommate to the Arizona room (a screened-in patio) for her final week of training. I drag in bushes and make a fortress of sorts to prepare her for hiding from predators. I really don't want to think about that.

She loves her new playground and doesn't want anything to do with me. The rabbit "expert" was wrong about everything. Miracle will be leaving soon and I'm already sad. I pick a date for release... Easter Sunday. But I can't do it. She's tripled in size since I rescued her but is she big enough to be on her own? I delay a week. She seems to sense my emotional attachment and allows me a few last days of bliss. We are snuggling in my bed, her sweet face inches from mine and I'm content once more.

The day finally arrives. I drive her 5 miles south to the "village" where she'll have a better chance. It's quiet and there are lots of rabbits. I scout out the perfect setting... plenty of shrubs and a huge bush which will be her new home.

I hold her one last time and she squirms in my hands. It's time; I bend down and release my grip. She hops off; she is motionless -- in unfamiliar territory. Her new environment is immense. I observe her as she takes a couple of steps, and then two more. She examines a wild dandelion and then she moves toward the giant bush. It's thick... so thick I can't see through it, and I know this will be our good-bye.

As Miracle heads into the brush, she stops and looks back at me. I'm surprised, but I don't know why. We've shared all these weeks together and she knows I saved her life... but I'm still in awe of her intelligence. I smile and a tear wells up. She turns back toward her home and disappears. She's on her own now.

Pet Fly -- A Different Perspective

I was sitting outside eating my lunch today when a fly came over and landed next to me. My first thought could have been, he's filthy... I should shoo him away. But something inside asked me to reconsider. I decided to let him stay. As I watched him, he rubbed his hands together as if he was washing them, just like a raccoon would do. I figured he wanted a bite of food. So I gave him a tiny portion of my veggies and rice. It occurred to me that he's not much different from a dog, begging for scraps.

I started thinking about my dog. (She passed away a few years ago.) Her favorite food was meat... the stinkier, the better. She would have gone through the garbage pail if I had let her. And she even wanted dog poo sometimes. Hmmm... so how different are these two creatures? Why are dogs treated like family members while flies are treated with disdain?

We spend billions of dollars on our pets every year and nothing on flies... except for a fly swatter. I remember a film shown at my grade school about the dangers of fly germs. But we kiss our dogs, knowing where their mouths have been. We humans make so many judgments. We decide who's smart and who's not... who's deserving of respect and who's not. Insects are among the most mistreated species on the planet. I think it's time for a change.

Life's Lessons -- Ground Hog Day

My life's work includes assisting people with release work. When emotional wounds create blocks to our joy and success, they need to be cleared. I will use analogies, recall, rewrite, visualization and affirmations as my client and I work together. Recently, I referred to a powerful life lesson from a popular old film...

Life seems to challenge us with people and events that we try to sidestep, but those are just the ones we need most. It feels like that movie, Ground Hog Day. Bill Murray tries so hard to avoid a persistent insurance salesman, a deep puddle of water, and other obstacles... and he attempts to manipulate a woman he's met to get what he wants. But in the end, he has to drop all his schemes and even learns to embrace the insurance guy. I just love that. It's a deeply spiritual lesson about surrender. He cannot move on with his life until he learns it. What a great message:-)

Animal Communication -- Fish Story

One day I was shopping for fish to put in a wine barrel “tank” and saw a sign stating they weren't for sale. The aquarium at this store had about 12 bubble eye goldfish that were not looking so good. Most of them were tilted and barely mobile and one was floating completely on its side.

I put my hand through the opening at the top of the aquarium and cupped my hand around one of the fish. He remained still as I did this. I tried to envision healing energy and light flowing into him. I spent a minute holding him straight and then gently released him. To my surprise and delight, he was upright as he swam away.

I proceeded to work on each of the fish; I found all of them to be willing to have the healing treatment performed on them. I noticed artificial rock and a plastic plant in the tank and received a message that they didn't like these things. Then I got another message that their journey had been quite stressful.

After I finished the healing session, the fish looked normal, each in an upright position, swimming around in the tank. I spoke to a clerk who informed me that they had traveled a long distance by truck and plane. I suggested putting a live plant in the aquarium but she said living plants make cleaning more difficult. When I attempted to give a second healing session to a few of the fish, the store manager came over and told me it was against store policy.

I began to rethink my fish tank idea. Like most people, I had assumed that fish aren't smart or don't have feelings. I was considering how they'd look in the same way I think about a piece of furniture, but my time spent with them gave me a new perspective. Just like the circus animals I enjoyed as a kid, I saw these beings differently now. I no longer wanted to possess them, but preferred to respect them and allow them to be free.