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Short for ‘survivor’. My starry eyed dragon. She’s been my companion since 2014 when I found her skin and bones at the South La Shelter, terrified of human touch. She’s been with me through the majority of my adult journey, guiding me, comforting me, teaching me, healing me. She’s crystal clear with her thoughts and needs. She’s stubborn, opinionated, bossy, and melts into a goofball when she knows she has my full attention. She wishes she was an only child, but she understands that I have a purpose to fulfill. She’s happiest when she’s outside going on adventures with me. She likes nature walks as much as she likes town outings. She hates being on a leash, and she lights up when I take it off. She can be sneaky, and she demands princess treatment. She’s patient and understanding with other animals if they respect her presence. She’s an alpha dog and will sternly let that be known without causing harm. She’s patient with children and can sometimes fixate on specific things, like the sound of a bouncing basketball or a stick. She’s competitive and only likes to play if it’s is a one to one game with me. We interchange dynamics and roles. Fluid like water and wind. Sometimes, she is my daughter, my baby. Sometimes, she is my caretaker, my guide, my healer. Sometimes, we are playmates and sometimes, we are sisters. At times, she is my mother and I, her child.


I was once on a boat whale watching. It was a turbulent ride out to say the least until we reached stillness in the water. Just a few feet away from the boat, the immaculate eye of a whale emerged to the surface. It gauged each and every one of us overlooking in awe and wonder, then retreated back into the depths of its home. That moment that I saw its eye, is the same potent and all knowing energy BB holds in her eyes. They are older than the earth and deeper than the ocean itself. That is BB. She was a school riding horse before she was retired and given to a shelter. It’s clear that she was overworked and still carries physical trauma from that period of her life. Because of that she has extremely specific boundaries. She gets angry when you don’t respect them. She switches on a dime to make sure you are still there with her while you touch her. She softens when she’s told that you respect her. She loves being sung a song I made up called “I love you and I respect you”. She melts into your arms like a baby when you’ve given her that level of acknowledgement. She always tells me that I must first rub her belly before I get the privilege of giving her treats. She appreciates the trust I’ve helped her feel, but she will never unsee the darkness she lived through. That may be why her gaze is so penetrating. You can feel her seeing all of the human in you. The Shadows and the Light. Nothing goes unseen. That is her power.

Branded on her left hip, revealing a moment of brutal constraint which burned into her every realm of existence. Her soft heart remembers that moment. A moment where her dignity, pride, and wildness was striped from her. I’m convinced she was a wild mustang. Her body type and behavior support this, and the more I know her, the more deeply I feel it to be true. Her tongue looks like a tight band was wrapped around it in the middle, almost cutting it in half. She watches the perimeters diligently like a lead mare of a wild herd, while the others rest and eat. She’s a forceful leader. She knows what’s out there, and she holds her head as high as the vastness of the Universe. Untrained and rebellious, I was surprised at how she surrendered into me once I had her trust. She did more than just surrender, she intertwined. She leaned in. She sought connection. She comes to me in dreams, telepathically during my runs and meditations, and she sends words to me through her third eye when we stand facing each other. She requires specific rituals each time we connect, as if we created a secret password that opens the gates to her soul. She shuts down when she gets overwhelmed, and her brave front retreats inside her belly. She wants me to know she’s a sensitive soul with the ability to lead a herd of hundreds, and that she loves me deeply.

It was a particularly hot summer day out in their shade-less pen, mucking. I had been hired to take care of them and for the first few months Bridget didn’t let me anywhere near her, and she kept Mandu close by her side as her right hand man. I saw Mandu eyeing me from across the pen earlier and told him hello as I always did from afar. Before I knew it, I turned around and saw Mandu was 10 feet away from me, sniffing the air with curiosity. I set down my rake and kneeled on the ground, looking away. Down came his nose right into the crook of my neck, as he took me in with long thorough breathes. He held his head there for what felt like an eternity. I felt in my heart I was exactly where I was meant to be. I’ve come to know these moments as Magical Mandu Moments. He does this every so often. Comes up and takes you in like you’re the only two beings in the Universe. It always takes me by surprise. And it always shifts my whole state of being. Mandu has a childlike energy. He is the energetic younger brother of all of the girls in the herd. He throws fits and tantrums, and he prances around like a prince in a palace. He’s quick to be upset when he’s misunderstood, and he’s stubborn beyond all measure. He’s a fighter, and he loves being alive so much. He powers through pain bravely and boldly. He used to bite me right on the forehead all the time. Seemingly out of nowhere. He says yes I am cute, yes I am beautiful, but I am NOT yours and I will not surrender to you. You were not worthy of my MMM’s in this moment, therefore, I had to bite you. I am upset that you are not present with me. Respect me. Don’t smother me. And if you show me you can uphold this approach to me, I will kick for joy when I see you and melt like honey in your heart.

Faith was the first horse to come up to me when I entered their pen. She was starving to death and desperate for someone to see that. Her hunger pounded in her stomach day in and day out as people drove by her, overlooking her again and again and again. She wandered in the desert of hunger with only faith to keep her going. Her name is the very force that got her through. She would visit me in my sleep and I tossed and turned until her hunger was satisfied and she let me rest again. She ate and she ate and she ate. When she surfaced after regaining all she had lost, she beamed with Light straight from heaven. Food is still her comfort, and I allow it to be for her. She deserves to have direct access to the abundance she was wrongfully denied for much too long. She’s the second alpha in line after Bridget, but she’s a gentle alpha. She only does what she needs to move the others around, and nothing more. She’s highly sensitive. Some would label her as jumpy, but I see that she lives at a slower pace. When you come in too quickly, its abrupt disruption sends a jolt through her relaxed and unsuspecting demeanor. She likes to inspect every new thing with big full breaths through her widened nostrils. Her baby face penetrates the hearts of anyone who meets her. Once relaxed next to you, she licks and nibbles. You look up and see, she exists as pure joy. She has a heart of gold. 


She’s been a star her whole life. Unquestionably loyal, level headed, and trusting. She follows along side you and pivots on a dime right without a lead. One day, I took her out for a steep and rocky hike. We had never gone out this long before, but I was determined to get to the top of the trail. She was confused, but she trusted my leadership. It was one of our most cherished memories together, but half way through the hike back, I noticed her limping. By the time we were back, she could barely put weight on her back leg. She had pulled something and it took her two months to recover. This sat in my heart like a rock. I realized, she had been made to do more than what she was comfortable with her whole life. Because she’s so good, she lets people. I saw all the ways she had been overlooked. I saw her clear as day, and I promised to never mistake loyalty for eagerness. She too has boundaries, but she does not shout them. She whispers them. She stands in silence waiting for you to see. She lights up when you do. She gets the sassy zoomies every once in a while when she’s really happy, and can be bossy to others but never to me. She’s social and loves to meet new people. She lets you lean on her and love on her with no limits. Her limitless love is as bright as the stars themselves. 


Rescued from the Burbank animal shelter as a kitten, I could tell Little Kitty was special from day one. He would climb up your leg like a squirrel, jump from countertops onto your shoulder, and catch flies out out of thin air. He fearlessly walked the edge of the patio railing and would jump effortlessly across the stairway to the neighboring patio. I found out the family in that unit had come to love him, and that he actually took naps over in their apartment regularly. I used to take the kitties out into the courtyard of that apartment complex that we lived in for 8 years so they could have some fresh air and adventure time. One day, the landlord told me I wasn’t allowed to do that anymore. Mister Kitty and Miss Kitty adjusted more or less, but Little Kitty turned into a menace. He ripped things off walls, attacked his siblings, attacked me, and worked himself up so much that he had to get on medication for stress induced constipation. I knew it was time for us to move. You see, Little Kitty doesn’t just enjoy being in nature, he needs it. Without it, he feels trapped, unfulfilled, anxious, depressed. And he doesn’t just need to be in it, he needs to experience it. Hunt, run around, climb trees. He’s become so insistent on coming out to do horse chores with me that it’s part of our routine now. I always have shelves set up high for him, the tops of tall storage cabinets, the top of the fridge, and cat towers set at various vantage points. There is a piece of him that is not domesticated. And while he still cries like a baby to be cuddled under the covers with me in the evening, come midnight, the spirit of mystery calls him out to wander. He’s ancient. His meows penetrate your outer layer and plunge straight into an ancient piece of you. He has full trains of thoughts. He’s smart, detailed, and intentional. Even though he’s almost 9 years old at this point, he still has kitten energy in him. He looks into you, not just at you. He pulls you in for an intimate exchange sweeter than sugar itself and then swats you when you’re walking away like he’s practicing his swipes for his secret ulterior endeavors. He seems to have a sense of whenever I’m losing focus, on my phone too much, or stuck in my day. He walks back and forth and back and forth in front of me and around me meowing until I’m forced to acknowledge him. Then he softens and purrs, putting his forehead on me, re-grounding me, and reminding me of my ancient roots. My guides speak to me through him directly in those moments. He is a wild guide in a physical form, pulling me into the unknown. Walking along side me keeping me safe on this earthy adventure, and keeping me curious. 


When I adopted Mister Kitty and Miss Kitty from the East LA valley shelter, there had been an outbreak of panleukemia. I adopted them knowing that they may have been exposed to it. When they started showing symptoms Vivor stepped up and took it upon herself to lay next to them keeping them warm and licking them for comfort. Vivor is not usually an affectionate dog to her animal siblings, but this was a special circumstance. When Mister and Miss survived, Vivor went back to her normal amount of affection, but Miss Kitty never forgot. To this day, ten years later, Miss Kitty naps with Vivor, massages her, rubs up against her, and wants to be around her as much as possible, to the point where Vivor pushes her away. Miss Kitty is undyingly loyal to those she loves. To anyone else, she has a impenetrable boundary up. She holds her space. She keeps her distance. She is the greatest gauge of energy in the house. If someone visits who she feels the slightest bit unsafe around, she hides. If the house is ajar, she does not lay out in her usual basking spaces. She loves her third eye massaged and lets out massive meows of enjoyment. She purrs and twirls around me. And when she lays on me, her purrs and curves dissipate any lingering anxiety. She’s beautiful and queenly. She knows her worth and expects you to honor that if you are to be in her space. She’s sensitive and sweet. She’s direct and clear. She’s feminine and motherly.

A bundle of fierce joy. I often feel my joy guides bringing light to my day through Mister Kitty. He prances by me with his asking and sweet short meows. He wants me to follow him around to different places around the house and pet him. He wants to frolic and roll around in the dirt. He’s a playmate. A brother. A light ball. He is hyper present and doesn’t have scheming plans or long lasting thoughts. There are moments when he gets so stimulated with being alive that he grips onto the arms of a chair, and it looks like his mind takes off into space. Just because he’s cute as a button, he wants you to know that he also gets mad. He has what I’ve come to know as his scratch pads of anger. Whenever he feels wronged in any way by one of his siblings or upset with me, I see the anger engulfing him, and then I see him making the choice to march over to a scratch pad and take that rage fully out. He softens and walks off of it cute as a button once again. He is the most social cat of the three. He doesn’t have to screen any guests. He trusts that if they are allowed in the home, they are playmates. He moves their energy around with his joyful powers just as he does mine. When he sleeps, he lays himself in the most irresistible positions that give me no choice but to go over and pet him. And when I’m really lucky, he’ll wrap his front arms around my hand and pull it into his chest for an actual hug. A hug that could end wars from it’s undeniable surge of goodness and connection that it makes you feel.

In hind sight, I should have known he was a rooster. The way he was perched on top of the waterer overlooking all the other chicks. But I sure am glad I didn’t. I would have denied myself one of the greatest animal relationships of my lifetime. He fell into a deep sleep almost immediately after I picked him up. I knew he was mine. As he grew, so did his rooster traits. He’s always on duty for his girls. He’s a protector and provider. He would fight to the death for any of them. He feels distraught when any of this girls express distress. He looks for any solution he can find to remedy it for them. He doesn’t approve of most visitors, and he keeps as close of an eye on me as he does with his hens to make sure I’m safe too. He’s noble and giving. He’s bright like the sun. He is life force energy in and of itself. He ignites my third chakra most. There is a bright yellow in his coat and fire in his eyes. I telepathically feel him when I am away from the house, specifically when I’m standing in sunshine. He still falls asleep in my arms like he did when he was a chick. I still see the little chick in him, and for me, he still melts into that. He’s vocal and confident. He doesn’t just like to be held, he likes to cuddle. It feels like he physically hugs me and smiles at me. Our heart chakras dance together too. He is my son in chicken form and I am his mother. That, we both know deep in our bones.

The moment we locked eyes for the first time is etched in my memory. I bent down to get face to face with all the chicks that could possibly come home with me. I knew I was looking for a strong presence, but not a mean one. A leader who is grounded and fair. All the other chicks ran away, but Koda took a few steps and then stood still, looking right at me. I fell into her eyes and I saw fierce fiery walls that lead me down to a meadow with streams and soft grass. She’s vocal and opinionated. She has an insatiable need for adventure. She wants to roam every inch of earth and dig up every crevice. She’s brave. She’s sensitive. She can feel when the energy is off in an area. She will pace around and even stop laying eggs when she feels unsafe or startled. She knows the power of the predators she sees. Their hunger penetrates her on a cellular level. She herself has that in her. I’ve seen her ruthlessly catch and kill lizards without hesitation. She’s also softer than a cloud. Once she feels her adventures are complete, she needs to be cuddled. She feels safest tucked under my arm or in the crook of my neck under a blanket of my hair. She is exactly the chick I knew she was from our very first moment, and so so much more.

A stunning storm of mystery. Quick and cunning. Cautious, sensitive, stimulated, and bossy. She dashes around like she’s on a mission. A force that doesn’t have time to be stopped or held for too long. She feels trapped when her momentum is halted. Her sage colored head feathers and irresistibly cute face are only to admired by glances at a time. She comes up to me when I’m not seeking her. I look over to see her piercing prehistoric gaze filled with light and fire. She lets me see her. The moment I try to take too much or hold her beauty captive for too long, she dashes off. She’s not scared of me. She respects me and appreciates me. But she has bigger things to tend too. She has her own agenda and being a part of my cuddle fest is not one of them. She’s an untamable spirit. An essence. A force. Only standing in her own stillness. She scurries around cleansing the air she stirs up. She Is Sage. She needs water in her roots to sustain herself which is why her best friend is River.

Beauty with a boundary. A coat that transcends reason and melts your ability to comprehend. She demands a surrender of the mind in order to experience the unspeakable magnitude of her essence. She teaches me to watch without taking. Sweet and doey eyed with a soft and peaceful demeanor. Cute as a clementine that will retreat into her shy protection if you try to squeeze her. She’s okay not being a leader. She has nothing to prove. Nor is she a follower. The more she sees that I will not force her into my motherly grip, the more she grazes past me with a knowing and easeful acknowledgement. Apprehensive and observant. Grounded. Deep beyond all measure. Always flowing in powerful stillness. You’re never able to stand in the same space twice with her, just like a river. She requires constant growth in order to experience her innate nowness.

She penetrates your soul with her green galaxy gaze. At a week old, her right eye was infected and became totally sunken in. Unable to see in that eye, her left eye holds twice the potent power. She leans in close to see you while also simultaneously doing a deep sensory dive into your infinite. She still sees with her unseeing eye, on an energetic level, and that is what sets her apart. She seems to have an extra direct connection to the Divine. To source energy. She softens you and then pulls you into the depths with her. I chose her because of the calm and slow way she walked amongst the rest of the restless chicks. Somewhat of an enlightened master making their way through a crowd of people. She was tinier than the rest. I would worry about her at first. She was often laying alone and is still the last to follow the flock around. But she’d have moments of complete rebellion. She’d grab a strand of my hair and pull it with every ounce of her strength. She burst out into flight higher than all the rest. She’d demand respect if she was pushed around too much. Humorous at times. She will go from standing still to pouncing out of nowhere like a jolly spring in a box. She took her unexpected thrown as alpha of her three sisters, except to Queen Koda of course. She is not to be underestimated, worried about, or coddled. She’s got this. She does like to be next to me and to be held by me often. But it’s more so she can get a closer look and deeper understanding of who her sacred caretaker is. Not for emotional comfort. She exists in both heaven and earth simultaneously. 


Sweeter than pumpkin pie. Softer than silk. When you pick her up, she has the lightness of a single feather both physically and energetically. Her eyes are a color that blend perfectly with my second chakra. She lets me be a mother to her. She likes to be a daughter. She’s a gentle peacemaker not a fighter. She’s curious and inquisitive. She practices discernment and doesn’t leap into the unknown. She’s content where she is and enjoys a relaxed rest while still always aware and communicative. She’s not weak but her sensitive heart needs emotional support from me if she’s wrongly treated by her sisters or startled. When I look at her while I hold her, I feel calmness, gratitude, and sensory awareness. I soften into her. Her coat is somewhat of a mandala. Woven with the intricacies of beauty and time unfolding in this instant. Her unsuspecting beauty becomes hypnotic when taken in for too long. You realize you have been in Hannah’s powerful trance, and when you set her down, you know you have shifted.