Communication by Akshaya

On the 24th of August, it will be four years since I lost my soul dog, Tango. I've had many dogs before him and after him, and I have loved every single one of them deeply and equally. But the connection I shared with Tango is something I have never been able to put into words. It wasn't bigger or better than the love I have for my other dogs. It was simply... different. Even after four years, there are moments when grief still catches me completely off guard. It has become easier with time, of course. Grief is no longer a part of my everyday life. I laugh, I work, I live my life. But every now and then, time seems to stop for just a moment, and all I want is one more ordinary day with him. Not a special memory. Not one last goodbye. Just one ordinary day where he's beside me again. I know that a large part of my grief comes from missing his physical presence. Because the truth is, I don't feel like Tango ever left. I feel his presence, his love and his support all the ...

When Muffin's family reached out to me, they were going through an incredibly difficult time. Like anyone who deeply loves an animal, they were trying to make the best decisions they could. There were questions, worries and a lot of uncertainty. As I connected with Muffin, I wasn't trying to figure out what was medically wrong or what treatment he should receive. Those decisions belonged to his veterinarian, and that's exactly where they should remain. Instead, I asked Muffin what he wanted his family to know. What followed wasn't a conversation about illness. It was a conversation about love, trust and understanding. He spoke about how deeply connected he felt to his family. He acknowledged how hard they were trying and how much love surrounded him, even though they couldn't always see it themselves. There were things he wanted them to know, things they needed to hear and things that helped them understand his experience in a completely different way. In the follo...

When we think of intelligence, we often think about knowledge, problem-solving or having the right answers. But nature has always measured intelligence differently. In nature, intelligence is the ability to adapt. Every ecosystem is constantly changing. There are floods, droughts, storms, fires and changing seasons. Yet life continues because species learn to respond to these changes rather than resist them. We see this everywhere. Mangrove trees have evolved specialized roots that allow them to survive in salty, oxygen-poor coastal soils. Many birds adjust their migration routes and even the timing of their breeding as seasons and temperatures change. Fire ants form living rafts during floods, linking their bodies together so the colony can float to safety. Honeybees make collective decisions when searching for a new home, with hundreds of scout bees assessing different locations before the colony moves. African elephants have been observed changing migration routes during droughts, s...

July has been one of those months that I'm not going to forget anytime soon. Our village experienced massive flooding. Roads disappeared, homes were damaged and many families lost things they had spent years building. It was difficult watching people around us go through so much uncertainty. We were fortunate. Our home was safe and apart from losing power for a while, we didn't suffer any major damage. I don't take that for granted because many others weren't as lucky. As the days passed, something else became impossible to ignore. People showed up. Neighbours helped neighbours. People who barely knew each other came together to clean up, distribute food, rescue animals and check on elderly residents. Volunteers worked around the clock, not because anyone asked them to, but because they saw someone who needed help. Even those who had very little were still trying to figure out how they could help someone else. It reminded me of something I've learnt over the years f...

When people hear that I'm an animal communicator, they naturally assume that the most memorable conversations I've had have been with animals. The truth is, some of the most meaningful messages I've received have come from trees. Animals are expressive. They have distinct personalities, preferences, and emotions. Conversations with them can be incredibly detailed. But trees have a different energy. They don't rush. They don't react. They don't seem concerned with the small, everyday worries that humans often carry. Their presence feels steady. Whenever I communicate with a tree, I notice that the conversation is less about answers and more about perspective. Trees have a remarkable way of reminding us that life doesn't always need to move as quickly as we think it should. We live in a world that celebrates constant action. We feel pressure to make decisions quickly, achieve more, and always be moving towards the next goal. Trees don't live like that. The...

The more I communicate with animals, the less I believe humans are separate from nature. This isn't a conclusion I came to overnight. It has unfolded slowly over years of conversations with animals, birds, trees, and the natural world. Each experience has chipped away at the idea that humans exist on one side and nature exists on the other. We often speak about "going into nature" as though it's somewhere outside of us. We plan trips to forests, beaches, or mountains because we want to reconnect. But I've often wondered if we're not reconnecting with nature at all. Maybe we're simply remembering that we were always part of it. Animals don't see the world in neat categories the way we do. They don't divide life into wild and domestic, important and unimportant, human and non-human. They simply respond to the relationships around them. Everything is connected. The more I communicate with animals, the more I notice how often they reflect this intercon...