Topic: Amelia Kinkade
Registered: Aug 2003
posted December 07, 2005 09:27 AM
Just thought I'de post this for all the animal lovers in the forum!
I think Amelia is such a cool, unique, lovely person, I asked for her book for christmas and can't wait to read it. Recently been reading about animal communication (especially with horses) and I just loved the stories that come with it.
* Heres her website if your interested! http://www.ameliakinkade.com/
And heres the 'exerps from book' link: http://www.ameliakinkade.com/html/book.html#exe2
The FAQ part is cool too.
Shes a Capricorn (for astro lovers!!) with either a Pisces moon or Aries moon..? Anyone have any idea which would be more likely? She reminds me of Linda ( so maybe Aries moon) strong, incredibly compassionate, courageous, intelligent, wise and intuitive.
Anyways, hope you enjoyed reading and finding out about her as much as I did!
From: Columbus, GA USA
Registered: Nov 2000
posted December 08, 2005 01:23 PM
"There is no use trying," said Alice; "one can't believe impossible things." "I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." Lewis Carroll
Registered: Aug 2003
posted April 23, 2006 03:25 PM
Love this story!! Interesting what a relief a mistake can be!
Caitlin called me in desperation when her cat had been missing for over a week. The circumstances felt so dire to me that I agreed to make a house call rather than wait for her to send me a picture. I drove to the woman’s home way out in the Orange County suburbs to look at photos of a big fat orange cat named Sal. He was a loud-mouthed, needle-nosed, redhead--a lady-killer, an indoor-outdoor man who roamed the neighborhood freely looking for love (and food). Sal was a wanderer. Over the many years that he and Caitlin had been together, he had disappeared for a few days at a time, but never for this long. His mother was at her wit’s end. Sal was the love of her life.
Caitlin was a charismatic woman with a warm, wide-open face, now tear-stained and strained from lack of sleep. The pressure was on. These emotionally charged situations make for very stressful readings. It’s not always easy to stay out of the client’s fear and see the answers clearly. The dense vibrations that emanate from a panicked client can cast a veil between me and the truth of the situation.
I perched tensely on her cat-hair-covered couch, anxiously milling through stacks of cat photos, looking for the picture of Sal that held the most energy. Focusing on one that captured my attention, I settled in to make contact.
I asked him the usual preliminary question, “What’s your favorite food?” before I prepared to ask him the only question that really mattered which was, “Where the hell are you?”
Pork chops and bacon. The words came in like gangbusters. This was a favorite food I’d never heard before. If this answer was correct, I knew I had Sal on the line. When his mother confirmed, my heart flew up into my throat. I was getting a feel for Sal: if Sal were human, he would be a blue-collar bowling champion, a Fred Flintstone kind of guy, who liked to barbecue in his backyard in the suburbs of New Jersey. Laughing, I shared this with Caitlin, who was quick to verify Sal’s personality was coming in loud and clear. She lightened up a little, so I tried to relax into the connection. I got the distinct impression that Sal was still in the world of the living, because he was ravenously hungry; this is never a complaint that comes from the Other Side.
I pretended to be casual as I worked my way around the high-voltage question. After a few more mundane questions, I asked him what he could see. Gestalting him, I looked out his eyes, but all I could make out in the shadowy darkness was some clutter. I was worried sick that Sal had gotten himself trapped somewhere he shouldn’t be, like someone’s attic or garage. I poked around for clues:
“Sal, what do you smell?”
Dust. Car. I’m very thirsty. Afraid he was dying, I tried not to panic.
“Sal, can you tell me what’s under your feet?”
I don’t know, he answered. Eventually I worked my way up to the really loaded question.
“Sal, do you know where you are?”
I don’t know. It’s dark. I’m very thirsty. Can you get me some water?
“You’ve got to help show me where you are so that we can come get you. Then you’ll get plenty of water, okay?”
I’ll try. I’m getting very weak. I need to eat, and I’m so thirsty.
When I Gestalted his body, I felt his life force waning. It’s difficult to telepath when you’re desperate, so I prayed for guidance and tried to calm myself down. Asking the right questions is 90 percent of the battle. I struggled to think of a strategy that would lead me to him. I scribbled down notes as I fixated on Sal’s picture.
“Can you tell me the last thing you saw before you went into the darkness?” I asked. Thank God, that was the million-dollar question. Sal was perfectly willing to describe the last house he saw from the outside. He showed me approximately where the house was from his own house, as if I were looking at the neighborhood from above in an aerial map. I urged him to outline exactly what path he took when he walked out his front door. Gestalting him, I found myself skimming ten inches above the sidewalk. He took me one block south, turned left, went down a half block down, and crossed the street. A giant weeping willow stood in the yard of the house next door. He described the house: glass blocks piled on top of each other, white brick, wood with blue-and-white trim, pretty flowers in a garden growing close to the ground.
There’s a rainbow in the front yard, he said, displaying the image of beautiful pastel colors lined up in a row. I couldn’t make heads or tails of it, so I just wrote it down. Then, with urgency, he showed me the garage door. It was white.
“Sal, are you in there?” I asked. I didn’t wait for him to answer. When I shared this information with Caitlin, she pulled me out of my chair. “We’ve got to walk the neighborhood. Let’s go find it!” she cried.
We followed Sal’s directions. Caitlin said she thought she knew the house with the weeping willow, and the house next door.
Here’s what made me love Sal: not the blue-and-white trim he had described perfectly, or the glass blocks that were built into the house, not the border of pansies lined with white bricks along the driveway, when I stood in front of the house, I saw something that made me yell out loud. Sal’s rainbow was in the front yard! There, before my astonished eyes, was a yard decoration of a donkey pulling a cart. The slats of the cart were painted in multi-colored pastels. Each board was a different color.
“The rainbow! There’s the rainbow! Can you believe it? This is it! This is it!” I screamed. Caitlin and I beat on the front door. There was no answer. We rang the doorbell over and over. Nothing. We ran to the garage door and called Sal, quietly at first so as not to scare him, “Sal, honey, are you in there?” Nothing. We knocked, then we banged, then we howled and begged. We pounded and cried, both of us refusing to give up. I knew he wasn’t dead because all he could see was darkness. On the Other Side, animals always see trees and flowers and people. Sal couldn’t see anything but shadows, and he had described clutter and something about a car. He had to be in there! I was confused because I was certain that if Sal were in there, he would answer our call, no matter how weak he was. Utterly bewildered and terribly disappointed, I stood in front of the house, unable to receive any further transmissions. My phone line went dead.
We started ringing doorbells up and down the street. We found some neighbors who told us the owners of the rainbow house had gone on vacation days before. We deliberated about calling the fire department or knocking the door in with a hatchet, but we had nothing to go on--that is, nothing but the hunch of a crazy animal psychic.
Slowly our hearts sank. All of our efforts were in vain. It was well after dark before we finally gave up.
When I went home that night, I couldn’t let it go. I was furious to have gotten such clear information that didn’t pay off.
In my mind, I kept hunting for Sal, but I kept seeing the same scene: shadowy darkness, clutter, some kind of car, some grease and occasionally a whiff of dust or gas fumes. I knew he couldn’t be dead! I felt him growing more and more thirsty, becoming deathly weak. He had to be trapped somewhere, alive! But every time I asked where he was, he’d show me the front of the house with the rainbow in the yard. I knew he was running out of time.
“Hang on, Sal. Hang on, honey,” I pleaded with him.
Night and day I tracked Sal, and Caitlin went back to the rainbow house again and again--I begged Sal to meow but Caitlin never heard a peep through the door. I insisted that Sal was still conscious.
Two nights passed before my tracking transmissions changed dramatically. Sal sent me visions of himself prowling through tall grasses under gargantuan trees. He was frolicking outside in some idyllic forest environment, chasing butterflies. He showed me fresh air, billowy white clouds in the sky and carefree, laughing people. When I got the scenery, I broke down and cried. It looked too much like the environment cats describe to me when they are on the Other Side. I was certain Sal was dead.
Tearfully we both wished Sal well and tried to release him. Caitlin was devastated. She called in sick at work and went to bed. I sent Caitlin some flowers to express my sympathy. This case had touched me as deeply as anything I’d ever gone through in my life. I felt like I had lost my own Mr. Jones.
I don’t know who was more thrilled and shocked, Caitlin or I, when she received a call the next day from the people in the rainbow house. As she called to tell me the news, I cringed and held my breath. I thought perhaps the people had come home from vacation to find a dead cat in their garage. Guess again. The people were calling from central California, where they had found a live cat in their trunk! Cantankerous Sal had been poking around in their garage when they were loading luggage for their vacation and gotten himself trapped in the trunk for a long, long ride. When he finally got released, he really did go frolicking in tall grasses under gargantuan trees. The family was in Sequoia National Park! The trees he described to me were sequoias! His hosts found his name and Caitlin’s phone number on his tag.
Sal enjoyed a lovely vacation in the country for a week before he came home to his exasperated mother, who was so happy to see him, she forgot to scold him. The little devil had had a great time while he put us through hell. After this ordeal, Caitlin and I were the ones who needed a vacation.
From: Palmer, Alaska (the valley)
Registered: Jul 2004
posted April 26, 2006 07:48 PM
I have a Shaman Healer friend who does seminars with a good friend of hers. Her friend teachs how to be psychic with your animals. I was unable to attend the class but heard it was very interesting. My MIL went and brought pictures of her animals for people to communicate with and all that she was told about them was almost all right on target.