Sensitive animal lovers have a secret.
When their beloved pets die, they often sense the presence of their four-legged friends, catch a fleeting shadow from the corner of an eye, hear a faint sound or notice a familiar smell. They rarely speak of this except to one another, as they know they're outnumbered and have learned to expect ridicule from those who don't understand. Many have been accused from childhood of over-imagination, craziness, even madness, when In reality they are creative, aware, kind, and compassionate.
Sensitive souls among you who have never had an animal to love keep your secrets too. You sense 'good' or 'bad' energy when you enter an empty room. You 'feel' the persistent gaze of someone in the street behind you and turn to see who it is. You too keep quiet. Why invite ridicule?
The good news is, that young Finnegan, a highly sensitive little soul, dips in and out of my life trailing his signature brand of cool unconditional love. I never see him on these occasions or sniff his chicken-flavoured breath, but I sense his presence. Is it imagination? A memory? A moment of craziness?
I believe that Finnie's loving vibration finds a crack in my beaten-up heart and resonates with its twin energy. In contrast to the high and powerful note of a Diva which can shatter a glass, Finnie's song is silent, a sound perhaps that only dogs can hear, yet his presence is strong, unmistakeable and just as powerful.
Sensitive souls hold a deep respect for people, animals, birds and the Planet, but their quiet voices are silenced by those who exploit the world for their own good. Those who are greedy for power feel free to abuse, blame, manipulate, belittle, shame, humiliate and ridicule anyone who gets in their way, as they bully their way through life.
It's a strange fact that they are enabled, voted for, rewarded, given positions of power and held in high regard for this reason.
I believe in Aristocracy…- if that is the right word, and a democrat may use it, not an aristocracy of power, based upon rank and influence, but an aristocracy of the sensitive, the considerate and the plucky. Its members are to be found in all nations and classes and all through the ages, and there is a secret understanding among them when they meet. They represent the true human tradition, the one permanent victory of our race against cruelty and chaos. Thousands of them perish in obscurity, a few are great names. They are sensitive for themselves as well as for others, they are considerate without being fussy, their pluck is not swankiness but the power to endure and they can take a joke.
E M Forster Two Cheers for Democracy. What I Believe 1951