Why Am I Doing Animal Communication?

Lately, I’ve been asking myself a question that sounds simple.

Why am I doing animal communication?

You would think I’d know.

I’ve taken the classes. I’ve practiced. I’ve worked with animals and their people. I built the website. I created the scheduling system. I worried about Google. I checked the analytics. I counted the clients.

Oh, did I count the clients.

Five clients.

Ten clients.

How many this week?

How many did someone else get?

Why is her website getting more appointments than mine?

What does Google think of me?

Apparently, somewhere along the way, I began seeking spiritual validation from a search engine.

That was probably my first clue that I had wandered a little off course.

Because when I went back and looked at why I began animal communication in the first place, none of those things were on the list.

I didn't begin because I wanted to rank on Google.

I didn't begin because I wanted a certification after my name.

I didn't begin because I wanted to be the busiest animal communicator in America.

I began because I love animals.

Because I wanted to understand them more deeply.

Because I wanted to help them.

Because I wanted people to understand that animals are not simply creatures living alongside us. They are intelligent, emotional, spiritual beings with their own experiences, preferences, wisdom, boundaries, and voices.

I wanted to deepen my intuition.

I wanted to deepen my relationship with Spirit.

I wanted to listen to nature.

I wanted to learn from animals instead of assuming I was always the one with something to teach.

Ultimately, I wanted to walk with nature, Mother Earth, and all living creatures.

That was my why.

And then, very quietly, something changed.

My Calling Became Another Place to Prove Myself

This is the uncomfortable part.

For much of my life, I knew how to succeed.

Work hard.

Work harder.

Figure it out.

Fix the problem.

Get better.

Be productive.

Accomplish something.

Then accomplish something else.

I spent more than thirty years in a world where results mattered. That way of living served me well in many ways.

But apparently retirement did not automatically uninstall the operating system.

I simply gave it a new job.

Instead of:

How much can I accomplish?

it became:

How many clients can I get?

Instead of:

How successful am I?

it became:

How successful is my animal communication business?

Instead of:

Am I doing enough?

it became:

Shouldn't I be further along by now?

Same measuring stick.

Prettier packaging.

Maybe a few more crystals.

And that realization stung.

Because I had taken something sacred to me and begun asking external things to tell me whether it had value.

Money.

Clients.

Certification.

Website traffic.

Other animal communicators.

Google.

Especially Google.

And suddenly I could see it.

My focus had changed.

The Problem Wasn't Money

I want to be very clear about this because I don't believe spiritual work and money are opposites.

I want clients.

I want my business to succeed.

I would love to have five to seven clients every week.

I want to be paid fairly for the time, energy, experience, and love I bring to this work.

There is nothing wrong with any of that.

The problem wasn't money.

The problem was what I had begun asking money to tell me about myself.

Was I good enough?

Was I successful?

Was I legitimate?

Was I really supposed to be doing this?

Those are awfully large questions to hand to a dollar bill.

And I'm taking them back.

Then Spirit Asked Me to Look Somewhere Else

At almost the same time, another lesson was unfolding.

I was being asked to notice where I feel seen and heard.

And where I don't.

Where I speak honestly.

Where I hide.

Where I change myself.

Where I know I don't want something but say yes anyway.

That brought me face-to-face with another old pattern.

I can hear an animal say no.

I can respect an animal's boundary.

I can tell another person, Your animal doesn't owe you affection.

Apparently, however, there was still some fine print concerning whether I was allowed to say no.

That's almost funny.

Almost.

Because what good is learning to hear the voices of animals if I become quieter and quieter toward my own?

What good is developing intuition if I immediately argue with it when it tells me something inconvenient?

What good is asking Spirit for guidance if I've already decided what the answer is supposed to look like?

Maybe this work isn't only teaching me how to hear animals.

Maybe it's teaching me how to hear myself.

So Why Am I Doing Animal Communication?

I'm doing it because I love animals.

I'm doing it because communication changes relationships.

I'm doing it because when an animal is truly seen and heard, something changes in the human too.

I'm doing it because animals have spent my entire life teaching me about love, grief, trust, boundaries, patience, surrender, joy, death, presence, and letting go.

I'm doing it because I want to return some of what they've given me.

I'm doing it because I want to help people become curious about the beings with whom they share their lives.

I'm doing it because I want to listen.

And I'm doing it because every time I listen deeply—to an animal, to nature, to Spirit, or to myself—I remember that we were never as separate as we imagined.

Maybe this doesn't need to become the biggest business.

Maybe I don't need to become the best animal communicator.

Maybe I don't need to prove anything at all.

I just need to keep asking:

Am I still doing this for the reason I began?

And when the answer becomes fuzzy, I can stop.

Listen.

Notice.

And realign.

My career may grow from my calling.

But my calling cannot be made to serve my career.

That is the difference I nearly forgot.

And perhaps success, for me, needs a new definition.

Not:

How many people booked this week?

But:

Did I listen?

Did I serve?

Did I remain curious?

Did I honor my own boundaries as carefully as I honor an animal's?

Did I help someone see their animal differently?

Did I leave the relationship with more love than I entered it with?

Those are measurements I can live with.

Google can keep the rest.

You May Be Wondering...

Does this mean I shouldn't care whether my business succeeds?

Not at all.

I can want clients and still trust the people who are meant to find me. I can improve my website, learn about Google, charge for my work, take classes, and grow my skills.

The difference is that none of those things gets to determine my worth.

I don't want to build a successful animal communication practice only to discover that somewhere along the way I stopped listening—to the animals, to Spirit, or to myself.

I want the business to support the calling.

Not replace it.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.