Grounding

By Conrad Beaubien

Seems like in the western world there are direct ties between our increasing social isolation and the rise of individuals acquiring pets; and it’s not just about our times of pandemic. Technology has fomented a gradual withdrawal of a population from active engagement in life events. We follow the lives of others without whole heartedly embracing our own moments, living vicariously in many instances.

A person can vacation, allowing the phone to be the witness of the environment around with attention focused on directing the content of the image while not absorbing the site’s authentic offerings. We become merely spectators. It’s almost as if there’s a want to be validated by social media audiences with ‘likes’, which ironically renders a faux feeling of inclusion. It’s my feeling that the further away from personal interaction we get and we begin to recognize its psychological impact, the more likelihood of a reverse trend on the horizon to help fulfill the deeply imbedded want to intermingle.

The need for emotional support animals is also notably on the rise. In Canada, the requirements for support animals not to be considered solely as pets require a letter from a mental health practitioner. The support animal is not restricted to species, however, to bring a boa constrictor in a pet sling to a dog park is not encouraged. I’m told that it potentially furthers social isolation.

The above thoughts profoundly occurred to me on a recent visit with the donkey Thunder and his paddock mates. There had been a longer than usual gap between my visits as I was preoccupied with work commitments. From the moment I stepped down from my truck, the all-enveloping atmosphere—smell sensations of grain feed, hay, manure and the very earth; the resonance of wind through tall maples, gratification of uninterrupted vistas of grazing lands, touch of the woolly head of a skittish alpaca and mostly the tastes in the air of an early autumn day, of ripened corn and apples and honey. It’s those combined senses that are enlivening, that bid inner recognition.

As I footed it down the lane to the lower paddock where Thunder hangs out these days, there appeared to be no animals in sight. It took a moment to register their locations in separate, distant corners of the pasture. Instinctively I began to sing as a way to call them, more of a nursery rhyme than a marching song or Neil Young. Hearing me, they picked up on my scent and one by one headed my way. They eyed the gate, which is our meet-up place. Putting their noses up to me as a way to say hello we went through the greeting ceremonies that generally involve carrots all round. But it was the touch, always the touch of those animals that seems to connect with the human soul— an unspoken knowing is best I can describe. I rub anything away from their eyes that I spot and check out their light summer coats for burrs or anything like that.

When I entered the paddock and while the others left, Thunder stayed with me. His typical silence, a learned silence, draws me in. This is the historic animal of the peasants, and I am one of them as we engage. I wrap my arms around his sturdy neck while at the same time massaging his ears and nose and his considerable, gentle lips. I console him—his ankles are bandaged, one foot infected by fly bites and the others wrapped for protection. No, Thunder, I say to him, we’ll wait for that to heal before we plan our next walks on the trail. My chest is pressed against his body and again I instinctively begin to sing to him as if a parent wanting to calm a child. It’s a role I have played many times and it was as if all of the engaging senses, both Thunder’s and my own, became one. I wanted to send the sensation of my voice, a chanson to touch that sentient being’s inner spirit as it reverberated through mine.

We achieve that connection within our humanity with hugs, calming embraces, gentle warmth of caring. The animals respond among their own species in similar ways. Technology of the camera and where they can be remotely placed is now allowing us to learn of the private, uninterrupted lives of animals and their traits that often match our own; where all the senses come into play and the truth of inner joy is manifested. Being in the close presence of Thunder and his companions over recent time has become my emotional support and all the better when we relate in these moments away from the noise of the world.