The First Time I Felt an Animal “Arrive” Spiritually

A small detail of an oil painting of a fox and woman, representing a spiritual moment of connection and presence

There’s a difference between seeing an animal and feeling an animal.

Most people notice animals with their eyes.
I notice them with something deeper - something that feels almost like instinct mixed with spirit.

I remember the first time an animal arrived in that deeper way. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t mystical. It was quiet, steady, and strangely familiar.

It was a fox.

A small, slim creature with alert eyes, standing in the early evening light. She wasn’t close enough to touch, but she was close enough to see me clearly. She didn’t move. She didn’t blink. She simply watched.

There was a weight to the moment - not heavy, just meaningful.
A sense that she wasn’t simply passing by.
She was arriving.

It felt as though she had brought something with her —-a message, a reminder, a moment of truth I needed to accept. Not through words. Not through signs. But through her presence alone.

That moment changed something in me.

It made me realise that animals don’t just exist beside us - they connect with us. Some might call it intuition. Others might call it sensitivity. For me, it felt spiritual.

Every time I paint an animal from that place - from that moment of arrival - the work feels different. Deeper. More honest. The golden thread appears naturally, as if it was already there, waiting to be recognised.

Animals don’t arrive because we call them.
They arrive because something in us is ready.

Ready to see.
Ready to listen.
Ready to change.

That fox was the first creature who taught me that truth.
Many others have followed.