Crystal Hope Reed

My experience with focused, intentional animal communication began with a two-hour Learning Annex seminar almost 20 years ago. Yes, it started that inauspiciously. I went to that intro session mostly out of curiosity, without any real expectation of being able to do it successfully. 

 

I was mildly horrified to hear that the majority of the exercises would involve reading the thoughts of the other people in the room. Strangers. I found it highly unlikely that I would be able to do this because I’m a textbook introvert, and while the idea of tapping into one’s intuition to essentially read another person’s thoughts doesn’t seem as incredible as it did 20 years ago, at that time it struck me as just plain outrageous.

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Carol instructed us on her techniques and had us pair off. I honestly don't remember if I was the sender or receiver first. I don’t remember anything about my partner except that she was a woman. All I remember is the paradigm-shattering experience of getting so many “hits” and seeing how at least 80% of the pairs were equally excited when comparing notes at the end of each round.

 

My worldview changed at that moment. How was this even possible? This wasn’t a room full of mediums and fortunetellers, this was a room full of average people. Yet here we were, describing each others’ pets, cars, and homes simply because we bothered to pay attention to what showed up in our heads.

 

That night I went home and started giving telepathic commands to my pitbull, Damien. He ignored me for a while, then just stared at me long enough that I started to doubt anything was really happening. But after a while, he jumped up on the bed and performed exactly the maneuver I had sent from my mind to his! There was expectation in his gaze, waiting for my reaction. I must say that it was one of the most quietly exciting moments of my life.

 

Later I learned that he had considered pretending he couldn't hear me, because I was potentially throwing a major monkey wrench into our happy, normal relationship. I am so thankful he made the choice he made. For the rest of his life our ability to communicate grew until we were conversing regularly and constantly, as if we were two human roommates.

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This was enough for me, until in 2003, during a conversation about personal growth and life changes, someone I hardly knew asked me, "What would you dare to try if you knew you couldn't fail?" and before I even had a conscious thought I blurted out, "Be an animal communicator!"

 

And so it was decided.