The breath of sunlight
“…the breath of life is in the sunlight and the hand of life is in the wind… forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.” from Clothes in Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet
Just a few days ago, I walked barefoot in India, luxuriating in the warm, powdery red earth between my toes while walking to my mother’s home. Today, I am back in blustery Northeast PA, grateful for the watery sunshine as I trudge through cold mud and stubborn ice from one barn to the next, caring for the animals of Indraloka. While I was there, a big part of me was here with my beloveds. While I am here, a part of my heart and soul remains in Mother India. I am a creature divided. I love both of these worlds so very much, and I am so grateful for this life that allows me both blessings.
I am the single mother of 150, the chief poop shoveler at Indraloka Animal Sanctuary, an Indian-Dutch-American, a traveler, a romantic, a seeker and a dreamer. I am here to tell you my story.
The most common question I am asked, when people learn about my vocation as founder of an all-species sanctuary dedicated to providing a lifetime home for animals that would otherwise have been euthanized or slaughtered is “Why?” I suppose lots of people love animals, but the question becomes why did you give up everything and move to a remote area to run an animal sanctuary on which you spend all your time and all your money?
Because.
Because they bring me joy.
Because these creatures make me feel as if I am the most-loved woman in the world.
Because each time I connect with a hurt chicken, a once-helpless lamb, a rescued veal calf, an elderly horse that was abandoned after years of service to humans, and all of the rest of them, I experience God, I learn about the true nature of beauty, and I become a better person.
Because I can’t help it. Taking home creatures in need and showering them with love is like breathing for me. It just happens, and it keeps ME alive. If I placed all the animals of Indraloka in new homes today, I’d have the place filled up again by tomorrow.
This is my joyous, maddening compulsion. This is my blessing and my calling. This is my religion. This is my bliss.
Its not all flowers and rainbows. Most of the time it is heavy, dirty labor peppered with boundless heartbreak. And still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
So many of you have asked me about what it is like to run an animal sanctuary. I am grateful and humbled by your interest. This blog is an answer to these questions, a search for spiritual enlightment through animal rescue, a chronicle of how the animals of Indraloka do so much more to rescue us then we them, and a manifesto on the joy of an endless quest for lovingkindness. I can only hope it brings forth for you whatever it is that would be the greatest blessing to you today.
Wisdom beyond Knowledge
The old red cow rolls dreamily through the pasture, her benign gaze lingering on spry calfs cavorting in circles nearby. She lays her arthritic body on the cool ground as regally as a queen lowering herself onto her throne. Reclining in the sunshine, she soaks in the peace.
A small long-haired, long horned cow meanders over and settles in next to her. In tandem, they breathe slowly and deeply. They are content in their eternal now, secure in the knowledge that harmonious, all-encompassing love, the Great Truth known to all bovines, reigns here at Indraloka Animal Sanctuary.
The Grand Dame does not focus on others times and other places of her life, where love was not allowed to reign. She’s been a mother many times over, and many times over her calfs were taken from her. And yet she doesn’t hold on to those memories. She is content simply sending light to those times and places whenever they flicker through her consciousness. With love, but without effort or thought, her breath itself is a prayer for her lost babies and the blindness that damages so many.
She holds no fear and no blame. She does not seek vengeance. She is beyond the surface labels of right and wrong.
The sage Grand Dame holds ancient memories of the Light that all beings come from. With a wisdom beyond knowledge, she understands that we are One. Our actions towards each other, ultimately, are our actions towards ourselves. She feels compassion, yet also understands that each of us, a ray of light in earthly form, is on our own path. We will each return to our true nature in due time.
Vast numbers of her brethren, bovine and otherwise, are mistreated each day. Each one of them is a sacred being, a ray of Divine Light. And yet, because we are all rays of the same light, inextricably linked, she recognizes that through her liberation they are also freed. Through her life and in her light, they live. She breathes and prays and loves and feels joy that they may also partake.
As this knowledge-without-thought vibrates beyond her consciousness, the frolicking youngsters and warm sunlight are the manifestation of truth. In this sanctuary love reigns.
That is all she needs to know.
Lamb of God
res·ur·rec·tion n.
1. The act of rising from the dead or returning to life.
2. The state of one who has returned to life.
INTERIOR - LIVESTOCK TRAILER - AUCTION DOCK - DAY
The old, rusty trailer backed in to the loading dock. Inside, a little black lamb shivered against the wall where ewes and nanny goats pressed him and the rest of the babies behind them protectively. They waited, eyes trained on the door.
Cold, empty men’s voices blended with the beseeching howls of bull calfs from inside the building. The dense odors of fear and despair hung in the air as the trailer door screeched open.
Men and boys with sticks tried to force the ewes and nannies away from the babies, but a big, brave billy goat reared up and slammed into the knees of the nearest man. The man stumbled and cursed as he cracked a stick on the billy goat’s head. “Look out boys, this un here’s meeean, best take ‘em directly.”
Following orders, a boy picked the goat up and dragged him inside the auction house, where his ear was tagged, “For Slaughter Only”.
EXTERIOR - AUCTION DOCK - DAY
The ewes and nannies were forced off next. The little lamb bleated softly as his mother turned back with one last look of love.
Suddenly, bright light flooded the trailer. The little black lamb looked out and saw some sympathetic humans, quieter and different from the others, on a catwalk above. They were looking right at him with the same kind of love he had seen in his mother’s eyes. He stopped shaking and let the auction men move and tag him, hardly noticing them. The light was shining so brightly that all darkness disappeared.
INTERIOR - AUCTION ARENA - DAY
Finally, the little black lamb found himself pushed into the center of a dingy, cramped ring. A crowded house of blank-eyed humans waited in the gray recesses, bid cards in hand. The lamb looked up and saw the different humans with love in their eyes smiling down at him. A beam of light shone down on the auction ring, and he was filled with a sense of love and peace. The auction handlers were yelling and kicking and seemed intent on something, but it didn’t matter what they were doing. He kept his eyes on the light.
INTERIOR. - LIBERTY CHARIOT (CAR) - DUSK
The next thing he knew, strong, loving arms lifted him gently and placed him in the back of a car, along with the brave billy goat and two more babies. The little black lamb crawled into the woman’s lap and stared into her eyes, where he basked in mother love.
FOR THE FILM, WHICH PICKS UP WHERE THIS BLOG ENDS, CLICK HERE
Turning a Sad Story Around
Invisible hands tickled the air above my head and a shiver of anticipation passed through me. Knowledge settled deep inside my forehead, between my eyes. My heart opened wide and I was engulfed with pure love.
I hardly had time to recognize what was happening before the phone began to ring. I answered, and heard a kind, distraught voice on the other end talking about the mules that needed us, but the knowledge and love were humming in my ears. I didn’t need the details.
The energy took residence in my throat and out popped the words, “Yes. We will take both of them.”
The voice on the other end of the line stumbled a bit, “You will?”
“Yes. We will help them. Tell me the rest now.” Out poured the sad story.
The two mules were purchased by Bright Futures Farm in June 2010 moments before they were slated to be shipped for slaughter. A series of rescues and sanctuaries took them in and shipped them back out when they realized how deeply their “issues” ran. The male, whom they call John, is what we call “fear aggressive”. If he feels cornered, he will kick or bite. The female, called Lillian, just runs. They are frightened of humans, and are believed to have been abused. Some people describe them as almost feral.
It never helps to dwell on the details. All of that is over now. The mules need love and understanding, and we will provide it. It is simple, really.
Bright Futures Farm could not keep them, and had no luck finding them a safe haven. They had given up hope and concluded that the pair would have to be euthanized when an Indraloka Animal Sanctuary friend and supporter suggested that they contact us. We will help these traumatized mules conquer their fears to live a peaceful, joyful life.
John
Lilly
For a moment, I slipped into practical concerns. We care for over 100 animals here, many with special needs, and yet we are still relatively new in the public eye. Things are tight, and funds are always needed. Bringing on two more large animals will be a challenge.
“No worries, we’ll take care of them. They won’t be afraid anymore. We’ll do some fundraising to pay for their care.”
We know there are countless people out there with big hearts, who love animals. We need your help reaching them. So, please use the link below to give what you can, and please help us to spread the word by forwarding our newsletter or blog and sharing the donation link on social media.
Together, we will turn their story around.
Help Abused Mules Find Safe Sanctuary
Satya’s Ocean
“Satya can’t be ridden, so she was abandoned.
But she is welcome here.”
Snowflakes like diamonds glistened as they fell. The air itself, cold and clear, was electric with anticipation, celebrating with us. Something magical was happening. Another fate had been altered, another divine being was on her way to Indraloka.
There is nothing more beautiful than to watch hope rise out of despair. There is no greater blessing for us than to take the opportunity to stem cruelty with kindness, to tender love where once only fear resided. For as Rumi once wrote:
“The ocean takes care of each wave until it gets to shore.”
Satya must have sensed the love with which we awaited her arrival. She jumped lightly off the trailer, nose quivering at all the new smells, and pranced confidently into the pasture.
She was magnificent. Statuesque, with a soft coat of silvery-white. Her face looked sculpted, too perfect to be real. Her eyes, a deep liquid brown, were filled with soft light and kindness. It was clear that her outer beauty was merely a reflection of her angelic spirit. Her name came to us in a moment of utter truth: Satya.
Eagerly, Domino and Quicker strained across the fence to meet her, nostrils flaring. We watched, enraptured, as they danced their ancient equine greeting, a ritual rich with timeless grace and subtle meaning.
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Satya’s club foot makes her unsuitable for riding or breeding. In most instances, horses like this would be auctioned off and then transported to Mexico or Canada to be slaughtered for human consumption. Satya, however, had the good fortune to find safe haven at Indraloka Animal Sanctuary.
Her pronounced limp means nothing to us. We are happy to give her the best care, to make sure she will always be comfortable and content. We consider it our honor to do so. She is safe now, and has a loving home here for the rest of this life.
I am often asked: Why bother to save just one, what difference does it make? Because we are each just one wave, yet we are also the ocean. One act of lovingkindness brings light to a world of darkness and us closer to Truth.
Welcome, beloved Satya. We will see you safely to the shore.
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TO VIEW THE VIDEO OF SATYA’S ARRIVAL, CLICK BELOW:
Miss Judy
It is completely dark. There is a new moon, and clouds are obscuring the starry night sky. Snow rains down. I am grateful for the warm, waterproof blanket under Judy. We are in the middle of the back pasture. It is sometime after midnight, though during sacred moments like this I lose all sense of time.
I called out the cavalry earlier this evening. Still, no amount of muscle, ingenuity, or effort can make a horse stand if she’s not trying.
Judy wasn’t trying.
We rolled her onto a horse blanket and covered her with another. She sat up to eat warm bran mash and apples, and drank some warm water. It seemed as if the danger had passed. Later, she even stood up, albeit briefly.
Judy has what you might call asthma and she had an attack. That’s why she was down to begin with, plus she’s old and frail. So she’s just worn out. If she would only stand up, I think I could get her better…
By now the calvary has gone back to their lives. Even the chickens have gone to sleep. Domino and Quicker, Judy’s adoring elderly companions are standing quietly nearby. Her head is in my lap.
Judy and Domino, grooming each other
*****
Judy has been here at Indraloka Animal Sanctuary for a few years now. I suspect she was a lesson horse for much of her life. She is small, but more importantly, she is patient and kind. Very good with children.
Judy is a bit slower to open up than the others. When visitors come to the sanctuary, other horses eagerly come forward for scratches and treats, but Judy stays back. She loves a long grooming session from someone she knows and trusts. And she appreciates my silliness. I often see a glimmer in her eyes when I sing one of my made-up songs.
She’s not flashy, and doesn’t have the dishy head or athletic build that horse people generally deem beautiful. She is not a pure breed. She’s just a broken down horse enjoying her last days quietly. I think she is lovely.
In fact, I am wild about her.
*****
I admit, this has been a good winter with few losses. At Indraloka, we purposefully take in old, injured, and sickly animals knowing they will end their earthly lives in our care. Having as many chronically ill and elderly animals as we do, we lose a lot. Especially in winter. We view caring for them through the end as a sacred act. How we face loss, how we face death, is critical to how we live and how we love. And if we truly want to help animals in need, we must be willing to be with them through the end.
*****
For me, the first sensation is usually, “No, please. No.”
With focus and intention, I push away the fear and invite love in. As it does in the moment you accept you have a painful wound, the healing process begins.
I breathe slowly and deeply.
I have learned the hard way that if I remain mired in heaviness, trying to grasp at my loved ones to keep them with me, it always makes their death experience more difficult. Staying peaceful and light-filled is better for me and the animals.
I know I have to be clear and focused, not just for my own mental health, but because staying in the ordinary grasping mindset would cause Judy a more difficult death. It is important to provide a peaceful, gentle, loving environment to die in. So, repeatedly, I have to push back the accusing thought that I should have spared her and had her euthanized sooner. I remind myself that I am doing the best I can. I truly believed it was not time yet. I believed she had a chance, and I wanted to give it to her.
Light, loving humor tends to put the dying animal at ease. It helps to clarify that there is nothing to be afraid of. Judy is facing this impending loss bravely. She is calm, for the most part. Every few moments she cranes her neck to kiss me, looking straight into my eyes.
So here I am, spending the dark, winter night in the pasture, singing to my horse while she dies.
You are the horsey that I’ve always dreamed of,
I knew it from the start.
I saw your face and that’s the last I’ve seen of my heart…
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At some point, Judy’s smell changes very slightly, and her eyes cloud over. She is beginning her transition. I tell her how much I love her, and how happy I am that she is at the threshold of a wonderful new beginning.
I exhale a cleansing breath of love.
A herd of deer has gathered at the edges of the pasture, compassionately joining our vigil.
Finally, it is four am. In a farming community like ours, people start their days before sunrise. I get back on the phone to find help: a vet to euthanize her, a back hoe to bury her, and a friend to keep me grounded as she lets her spirit fly free.
The kind young farm vet jumps in his car the instant he gets the call, nothing but compassion in his voice. My next call wakes my friend from a sound sleep, yet he too comes right away. We won’t need the back hoe until later.
Judy listens quietly as I make the calls. Fear and grief creep back in, and together we banish them with love.
My friend arrives. His deep, even breath and strong presence deepens our calm. He begins to gently massage Judy’s painful legs.
The vet comes next and after examining her says quietly, “For everything there is a time.” His words fall like icicles breaking in the silent moment before dawn.
The vet is kneeling in front of her now, with the shots drawn up and in his shirt pocket. Judy looks up at me as I cradle her head. My friend keeps his loving, healing hands on her. The other two horses walk over and kiss her good-bye while Wax On, the cat, dances one last pirouette on Judy’s ribs.
Her body begins to convulse; her spirit is taking wing.
As night dissolves into day, light slowly rises from Judy’s body. It remains just above us, and then melts into the morning sun.
The circle is complete.
Swine Serenade…
Bitter winter winds pushing them forward, the Humane Officers stepped gingerly around the corpses of ponies and chickens as they searched desperately for signs of life. Out of the corner of her eye, one of the officers saw movement. Was it the wind, or was there an animal hiding in that old cardboard box? She made her way closer and peeked in to find a terrified pig, too weak to scream or run.
In the barn, they found a second pig who was much less frightened.
The pigs, Magdalena and Anunzio, arrived at Indraloka Animal Sanctuary in early March, 2007. Having miraculously escaped their living nightmare, Magdie embraced us, immediately becoming the affectionate and playful pig that she is today. Nunzi took a different approach.
He screamed at the top of his lungs every time he saw a human. This means that every time we fed him, gave him fresh water, cleaned his stall, or did anything else in the barn, he screamed the entire time.
In case you do not know any pigs, their scream is actually a higher decibel than a jet engine. Quickly, we discovered that speaking to him, even in a soothing, soft tone of voice, only terrified him more.
Happily, he was never afraid of Magdie, so at least he had a companion. To this day they remain gentle, loving best friends to one another.
One day, I found myself singing in the barn as I worked (it happens sometimes, although it is not pretty, I admit). I realized at some point that Nunzi was not screaming. Slowly and silently, I poked my head into his stall– “What if something is wrong with him?” I worried.
As my head came into view, Nunzi resumed his deafening screams. “At least he is all right physically,” I thought, and went back to my barn work. As I resumed singing, his screams ceased.
When I stopped, the screams resumed!
So, I made it my habit to sing in Nunzi’s presence, and he stopped screaming when he saw me. This was a breakthrough. From there we began, very slowly, to work on building a friendship.
Blue moon, you saw me standing alone,
Without a love in my heart,
Without a pig of my own.
Blue moon,
You knew just what I was there for,
You heard me saying a prayer for,
Some pig I truly could care for.
Fast forward 9 months, to a sunny Sunday morning.
I went out to the paddock to see how Nunzi and his pig, horse, turkey, and rooster companions were enjoying the morning sun. Nunzi heard me talking to Sabine (a horse) from around the corner of the barn and…are you ready?…(drum roll, please…) Nunzi actually ran to greet me, grunting softly and contentedly as he nuzzled my hand. This was the first time I had ever interacted with Nunzi without either him screaming or me singing! His eyes twinkling, he practically said in English, “Well, and good morning to you too, sunshine. So nice to see you this morning.”
Nunzi doesn’t scream at humans anymore. And that makes all of the endless hours, backbreaking work, struggles to pay vet, feed, and hay bills, and everything else worthwhile.
Bovine Bodhisattva
I knew before I met her that we were bringing her here to die…
She came to us on a mild, sunny day in early summer. Nobody (human) was around the farm.
It would be risky, I supposed, letting her in the pasture with the big cows right away without the customary transition time. And yet, I knew she needed them, and they’d be good to her.
We backed the trailer right into the pasture. As the trailer door swung open, I caught my first glimpse.
Her eyes, a deep, rich, eternal brown, held the radiant clarity of awareness, and a deep kindness that comes with suffering and ageless wisdom. Tears flowed from my eyes as I gazed upon the precious soul who would be among my life’s greatest teachers.
She began to move, and my attention was then drawn to her physical form. My eyes took in the broken little cow that embodied this radiant light. She was 4-5 months old and about 300 pounds. Her coat was a pure, shining black.
Instead of walking, she crabbed forward on gnarled front legs that would never straighten. It was for this reason she was deemed unsuitable as a dairy cow. If she can’t stand, she can’t carry a baby, and therefore can’t produce milk. So, she was going to be slaughtered for meat until we intervened.
When we decided to take her in, I didn’t know if we would need to euthanize her as soon as she arrived, or if she’d be able to live pain-free for a few more months before her body became too big for her legs.
It didn’t matter to me.
I just wanted to give her a peaceful and loving end, and knew a slaughterhouse certainly would not do that for her.
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As it turned out, she was relatively small, so for the moment, her contorted legs could still hold and transport her, albeit slowly and awkwardly.
Patiently, she made her way out of the trailer and onto grass for the first time in her life. The other cows lovingly gathered to greet her, touching their noses to hers. One by one, they each gave her a kiss, and then they all turned back to the pasture to graze together, walking much more slowly than usual so that she could keep up!
Holstein heifers (young cows) grow up to 2 pounds a day during the first 15 months, so I realized that she would not be able to support her own weight for long if we could not fix her legs.
A voice inside said her name was Mo Chridhe, Gaelic for “my heart”. Quickly, I arranged to take her to Dr. Randy Bimes of Quakertown Vet Hospital. Randy specializes in treating lameness in horses, so if anyone could fix Mo’s legs, Randy and his team could.
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Unfortunately, yet not surprisingly, the vets were unable to help her, although I was glad we tried. I was reminded our job was not to save her, but to escort her out of this plane with love.
At Indraloka, every animal is showered with affection and healthy treats everyday. We did even more for Mo, and the other cows took it on themselves to do the same. Never was a cow more beloved than our little Mo.
Our intention was to fill her life with peace, love, and joy until it was time to let her go. And yet it was she who filled our lives. But with so much more…
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Time and again, when visitors came to meet Mo, they wept at the sight of her, not uttering phrases of pity, but of awe. More than one fell at her feet and cried. She exuded calm compassion and grace, and on each of these supplicants she bestowed a blessing with a gentle look or a soft nudge.
We all learned so much from Mo. She paid no attention to limitations in her physical form. She never seemed stressed or concerned with the need to crab slowly around the pasture instead of cavorting like other young cows do.
As months went by, Mo grazed on grass, enjoyed the company of other cows, and ceaselessly taught us lessons in non attachment. Although she savored each moment and embraced life fully, Mo never sought more than she was given, and always gave of herself freely. By November, she was laying down more, and began to have difficulty holding herself up.
It was time. I spent the days leading up to Mo’s crossing preparing myself, the volunteers and the animals. Our compassionate farm vet Jen agreed that Mo would soon be in pain, and that it would be best to let her go while she was still enjoying life.
Instead of looking to us for comfort, our bovine bodhisattva gave us comfort. This little crippled cow managed to do what so many of us strive for our whole lives. She seemed to live by the words of St. Francis:
…grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love…
Mo was ready.
She was not attached to this life, for she knew that we are all eternal, that this is just one stop on a boundless soul’s journey. Living this example was her greatest teaching. Still, it was unbearable for some to think of losing her light and being plunged into darkness. For, when someone has brought so much light into your life, it is easy to think there will be only darkness in their absence. Mostly, it seemed they would just miss Mo terribly.
Finally, the hour of Mo’s death had arrived. Dr. Jen and I went out to the pasture, where Mo reclined in the lush grass, waiting for us.
The other cows gathered around.
As I held her head in my lap and murmured a loving prayer, Penny and Gus each placed their muzzles tenderly on Mo’s body, Dr. Jen gently administered the shot that would send our Mo out of her body forever.
This is the prayer I prayed as Mo crossed over:
Navajo Beautyway Ceremony
In beauty may I walk
All day long may I walk
Through the returning seasons may I walk
Beautifully I will possess again
Beautifully birds
Beautifully joyful birds
On the trail marked with pollen may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet may I walk
With beauty may I walk
With beauty before me may I walk
With beauty behind me may I walk
With beauty above me may I walk
With beauty all around me may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, lively, may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty, lively again, may I walk
It is finished in beauty
It is finished in beauty
