Author: ECKANKAR

By Paula Flint

I love animals, and many years ago I was open to a new kind of love relationship in my life. Personal issues were overwhelming me. I wanted spiritual growth, but it appeared that all I was getting was physical drama and emotional pain.

I fought hard to accept life on its own terms, to be an example of divine love. To help me with this goal, I decided to do a spiritual exercise. I wrote, “I am a living, breathing example of divine love” twenty-one times for twenty-one days.

My husband and I thought having a horse might help relieve some of my stress. He’d owned horses growing up, and now we lived on four acres out in the country. We contacted my husband’s cousin, and he told us, “I have just the horse for you!” Dude was a young, sorrel quarter horse about fifteen hands in height.

We were very busy at the time Dude came to share our lives. Our three teenagers were in high school, and all were driving. I was primary caretaker for my eighty-year-old mother-in-law who lived with us because she’d had a debilitating stroke. We thought a horse would help her heal by reliving pleasant memories from her childhood.

I’d been an ECKist for about sixteen years, and my desire to be of service to the ECK, the Holy Spirit, was strong. I understood that animals are Souls too, and knew that to share my love with another of God’s creatures could bring about much healing and inner peace.

My Spiritual Connection with Dude

The moment I touched Dude and looked into his eyes, I felt a peace I’d never known before. A surreal calmness enveloped my entire being.

Dude immediately brought joy to my life. His pasture was literally all around our house. When he wanted attention, he’d step onto the back porch and look in the dining-room windows.

Every evening, as a way to de-stress, I’d go outside to the barn and run my hands lovingly down Dude’s back from his head to tail. As I did this, I gently sang HU, an ancient name for God that, when sung aloud or silently, is a love song to God. I’d spend hours outside singing to Dude so I could practice being divine love. I also put my attention on Prajapati, the ECK Master who works closely with animals. These two spiritual practices always transported me into an experience of spiritual freedom.

After we’d had Dude for about two weeks, I was feeling particularly overwhelmed one evening. I went out to the barn and started sharing my nightly spiritual exercise with him. A gentle rain made it very quiet and peaceful outside.

All of a sudden Dude walked in a complete circle around me and lay down with his side lightly touching the front of my legs. A feeling of awe and love overwhelmed me. Although I hadn’t grown up around horses, I knew enough about their behavior to realize Dude’s nearness was unusual. Horses seldom trust humans enough to lie at our feet. I slowly got down on my knees and whispered, “Thank you, Dude, for trusting me. What an honor.”

Cupping my hands under his muzzle, I continued singing HU. He slowly put the full weight of his head in my hands and fell asleep while I listened to his gentle breathing. We stayed in these positions for a long time while I held his head in my hands and cried.

The healing presence of divine love enveloped us as if we were one on a journey home to God. Dude gave me unconditional love and trust at a time when I needed it most.

Animals, as Souls, can serve as divine vehicles, opening our heart to where we can give and receive love. When I practice my spiritual exercises, it feels as if I’m riding a wave of love to God, back home where I came from. When it’s time to leave this world, I know Dude will be there, waiting for me to sing HU with him.

—Photos by Paula Flint

By Sri Harold Klemp

This is a story about a vet, a cat, and Prajapati—one of the ECK Masters, guardian angels of the highest sort—who takes a special interest in animals.

Our story begins with “Mike.” He’s a young man. He was riding his bike down on the beach, and there he saw a surfboard. Nobody was around, so he took it home, got on the internet, and went to a site that specializes in help wanted and lost items. He put a notice up—”Found: A surfboard.”

A little bit later, he got a call from a veterinarian. He identified his surfboard, and they made arrangements. So Mike took the surfboard over to this veterinarian, whom we’ll call “Doctor Ken.” Doctor Ken said to Mike, “If your family ever has need of my services, I’ll give you a discount.”

Not long after this, the family cat became very ill. They remembered the offer from this vet. So they took the cat, Simba, to him. When the doctor came in, he looked at the cat and said, “This cat is very sick.” He didn’t need to do a whole lot of poking and prodding to see the cat was hurting here, there, and everywhere.

Doctor Ken said, “I’m one of the very few vets who practices energy medicine.”

This sort of energy medicine is sometimes called remote treatment, which may be offered by a chiropractor or some other healer. It’s very effective but it takes a certain kind of patient. I think cats are very open to this sort of thing because it’s energy, and cats are very sensitive to energies.

While Simba was being treated, Mike’s father told Dr. Ken all about the ECK Master Prajapati.

The next day, Mike’s mother, “Ann,” came to visit Simba. She saw that the cat was in terrible condition, and she began to cry.

When Doctor Ken came into the room, he started asking all kinds of questions about Prajapati. Then he went on to describe him. He said, “Prajapati came to me in a dream last night. Don’t worry. He said everything is going to be OK.”

Three days later, Ann went back to the veterinarian. The doctor said, “I’ve got the blood-test results. But before I call them up on the computer, I want to make sure Prajapati is here.” He wanted to go into contemplation, shut his eyes, and be assured that the ECK Master was present. So Ann shut her eyes, and she began to sing HU, our love song to God. At the same time, Doctor Ken called on Prajapati.

After a bit, Dr. Ken opened his eyes and said, “He’s here. My skin is tingling. I can feel him. Can you feel him?”

Ann said, “Yes, he’s here.”

Then the doctor turned around, faced the computer, booted it up, and got the results. Finally, he turned back around with a big smile on his face, and he said, “The blood tests are all OK. Everything’s normal. You can take Simba home.”

The spiritual lesson here is that love is so strong that it can reach out through the Divine Spirit, the ECK.

I mentioned an ECK Master. It means a Master who is well attuned to the Holy Spirit. This love had come from the Holy Spirit, through the ECK Master Prajapati, to take care of one of the least of Its own. And this is how life is.

By Will Harman

Bandit joined our family about eight years ago as a three-year-old boxer mix who had been given up for adoption. He had too much energy for his former family to handle. The second of our former boxers, Wilson, had recently crossed over, so we welcomed the love and energy that Bandit (whom we came to nickname B, or B-dog) brought into our home. We especially enjoyed watching him play with rocks the way people play soccer, only using his muzzle instead of his feet. He would always put on a show for our guests. And when we visited our property in the foothills, he became “swamp dog”—swimming, rolling, and sitting in the streams and wetlands. He loved life, and we loved him.

Eight or nine months ago, Bandit was diagnosed with mast cell cancer after a lump was discovered on his back leg. We pursued surgery and treatment with our local veterinarian and university. Bandit was always happy to see the caregivers because they gave him love—and treats. Unfortunately, he failed all treatment options, and the cancer progressed. We moved into palliative care. The last few weeks of Bandit’s life were rough. During his last week, he had twenty-one observable tumors. Two were ruptured, and one required frequent care. He wore a cone so he would not open the wound any more. His lymphatic system was compromised, causing one back leg to swell to many times the size of the other.

To look at Bandit, you would think he was miserable—his physical body was a mess. And yet, when I looked into his eyes and asked inwardly if he wanted help leaving the body, the sense I got from him was, No, I just want to be with you. You meaning our family. He did not seem to care about his body and how it looked or felt. He just wanted to be with us. So we spent a lot of time just sitting with him. His body deteriorated, and we knew he would continue to decline until the cancer took his life.

When another tumor ruptured, we made the extremely hard decision to work with our vet to help him cross over.

In the time leading up to the decision, I had been looking for signs to confirm that this was the right course of action. I was watching my dreams. I was asking for inner guidance. My wife, daughters, and I discussed options, and finally, we all agreed that it was the right decision. But there was not a defining inner or outer experience that gave me total confidence. We went to the vet with heavy hearts.

The process is so fast. Scary fast. One moment Bandit is looking into my eyes, and my wife’s hand is on his beating heart. The next moment, he is gone. I have practiced spiritual exercises for many decades and have had numerous experiences showing me that there is life after death. Death is just a transition out of the physical body. Yet, as I sat on the vet’s floor with B’s lifeless body, I couldn’t help but wonder, Is he just gone? The thought surprised me.

That night, I still did not dream about Bandit, which was odd to me. I had had lots of dreams about Wilson, before and after his translation. Why not now? I was miserably sad.

About halfway through the next day, I got an idea: If an inner experience is not happening on its own, I’ll create one. I’ll sit down and do a spiritual exercise and simply imagine what I want to happen. So, that’s what I did. I imagined Bandit running at the farm, swimming in the stream, playing rock soccer, and rolling in the wetland like the swamp dog he was. I imagined it all; I created it. And yet, when I came out of contemplation, I felt better. The experience felt very real. The heaviness was gone. I still missed Bandit, and I do still, but the heaviness was gone. Feelings of acceptance and love filled my heart, and the tears went away. I remembered that, as Soul, we are indeed eternal.

A month or two later, I finally had a dream about Bandit. We were in Mount Airy (the town where I grew up), on the road leading to my grandparents’ house. It’s a small side street lined with big trees. We were on bikes, and Bandit was running beside us. We arrived at the house, and Bandit ran down the driveway and under the deck where they parked the cars. There was a couch outside with newspapers. B jumped on the couch and lay down for about five seconds. Then he jumped up and started playing with the newspapers. He found a ball hidden in the papers and played with that too.

When I dream of Mount Airy, for me it symbolizes the past—of this life or others. My grandparents’ house represents family and love. I think the couch represents comfort and the newspaper, maybe current events. And Bandit’s play is happiness and freedom. In the dream, I saw that B was currently happy and free. He has found comfort with past family members (furry or otherwise).

The dream reaffirmed that we are all eternal and gave me the knowingness that Bandit is doing well. The spiritual exercise of simply imagining an experience proved to be quite powerful for my own healing. It taught me that, when life is hard, we can use the imagination as a powerful tool. It sets invisible forces into motion that can change our awareness and help us heal. We initiate the process, and then a greater force takes over.

Another gift of divine love came during a bike ride along a beautiful and pristine river. Within a half-mile stretch I saw three great blue herons. It surprised me to see three in such a short distance. It felt like a spiritual moment, so I asked inwardly what the herons symbolized. On my inner screen, I saw that each heron represented our past boxers—Bandit, Wilson, and Sampson, our first—living within the River of God. For me, a beautiful symbol that life does go on and that all is well.