Belief systems are powerful. They shape how we understand the world, how we relate to ourselves—and how we connect with animals. As an intuitive and healer, I’ve seen time and again how beliefs affect intuition and animal communication in subtle, yet profound ways. The more tightly we cling to what we think we know, the harder it becomes to receive the messages that come from beyond logic, beyond language—beyond belief itself.
Ted was a frog who lived in a quiet little well. One day, he decided to visit his cousin who lived in a distant well across the hills. To protect himself from the glare of the sun, Ted wore a pair of yellow sunglasses.
The walk was lovely. The world looked bright and warm—yellow skies, yellow grass, yellow flowers, and even yellow humans. Ted was amazed.
When he reached his cousin’s well, he raved about the beauty of the journey. But his cousin frowned and said, “That can’t be right. The world isn’t yellow. It’s pink.”
You see, his cousin had taken the same journey—wearing pink sunglasses.
They argued. Each insisted the other was wrong. But neither of them thought to take off their glasses.
Belief is a lens.
It helps you make sense of the world. But if you forget you’re wearing it, it stops being a tool and starts becoming a trap.
Now let’s talk about cats. And boxes.
Your cat doesn’t care about your ideologies. Your cat doesn’t consult textbooks on reincarnation or spiritual contracts. Your cat is either inside the box or not. And even when they are, they’re also beyond it. The trick is not to over-analyze your cat.
But we humans? We build belief-boxes. We climb inside and call it truth. Then we try to listen to our animals from inside that box—and wonder why their messages sound distorted.
Here’s the rub: the real answers are often outside the box. But we’re so attached to our box being the right one, we don’t even peek over the edge.
The invitation? Suspend your beliefs—just for a moment. Step outside your box. That’s when true listening begins.
A while ago, I worked with a client whose cat was in the final stages of cancer. She had just read a book that taught that animals are evolved beings who choose their pain to teach us something.
And she looked at me in anguish and asked, “Do you think my cat chose this pain? Why would he do that?”
I had to double my efforts to stay neutral and centered.
Because that’s the trouble with books: they’re not sacred truth. They’re someone’s belief system, wrapped in language and printed in bold. And when you’re in a vulnerable place, it’s easy to cling to a belief that sounds spiritual—even if it disconnects you from what’s real, what’s happening right now.
Sometimes, suffering is just suffering. And love is just love.
In truth, what we call “truth” is often something we haven’t yet experienced. Or something we don’t have conscious access to.
So we lean on beliefs. We use them to shape the mystery into something digestible. Something that fits inside our mental box.
These beliefs are formed early—through family, culture, religion, schooling. As adults, we reinforce them through the books we read, the social circles we keep, and the digital echo chambers we scroll through.
We tend to adopt beliefs that appeal to us—and reject those that don’t. Which makes belief less about truth and more about preference.
So, the question is not if our beliefs are accurate, but: Is this belief beneficial?
Does it serve you? Or are you now in service to it?
If your belief is helping you heal, open, and connect—great. If it’s keeping you rigid, fearful, or disconnected from the moment—maybe it’s time to take off the sunglasses.
If you’ve ever felt stuck or uncertain during an intuitive moment with your animal companion, you’re not alone. One of the most overlooked reasons this happens is because beliefs affect intuition and animal communication in ways most people never question. Your belief might tell you that animals don’t “speak” or that telepathy isn’t real—and suddenly, your mind overrides the whisper of truth your heart already knew.
Your cat might sit in a box, but they don’t live inside one.
They hop in, hop out. Play. Nap. Hide. Observe. They never confuse the box for the world.
But we do.
We climb into our belief-boxes and declare them absolute. And when something doesn’t fit, we ignore it, reject it, or label it wrong.
But your cat? They’ll always meet you in the moment. On their terms. And they’ll whisper:
“Come out and see what I see.”
What would happen if you listened? Not through the lens of your belief system, but with the soft, wild openness of presence?
As an animal communicator and energy healer, I often get asked a range of questions:
-Do animals really have chakras?
-Can they choose to reincarnate?
-Are soul contracts real?
-Do they fall sick to teach us something?
-Do I believe in angels, ascended masters, guides?
The truth is, none of these questions are wrong—but they also aren’t the point.
We all grow up with belief systems. Some we inherit. Some we adopt. Some come from books we resonate with so deeply, we treat them as gospel. But resonance isn’t always truth.
Sometimes it’s just our current level of consciousness nodding along.
Beliefs are helpful. They anchor us. They offer language and structure. But when held too tightly, they begin to filter out the very truth we’re seeking.
And this is especially true when working intuitively—when trying to hear the voice of an animal.
Because if you’re listening for confirmation of what you already believe, you’ll only hear echoes of yourself.
Your cat might be screaming at you from outside your box of ideas and dogma, but all you hear is filtered static.
Whether you’re a seasoned animal communicator or just beginning to explore energy work, it’s worth asking: How might your beliefs be shaping what you allow yourself to hear? It’s not always easy to admit, but beliefs affect intuition and animal communication by acting as internal filters. These filters aren’t inherently wrong—they’re often built from experience and study. But when they go unquestioned, they limit what’s possible.
Over the years, I’ve learned that my role is not to confirm or deny belief systems.
My role is to hold space—gently, clearly, and without judgment.
Whether someone believes their dog is a reincarnation of a past companion, or that their cat chose their illness to teach them a lesson, I don’t argue.
Not because I agree or disagree—but because I know that the truth is often more nuanced than belief allows.
As my teacher Joan Ranquet says, “Be a fly on the wall.”
To hold space is to listen without interrupting the energy with opinion. To bear witness, not to validate or disprove.
Thich Nhat Hanh said, “The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention.”
And that’s what I offer the animals—and their humans. Deep, grounded, non-judgmental attention.
If you’re working on your own intuitive skills—or simply trying to connect more deeply with your animal companion—consider this:
What belief are you still holding on to?
What belief are you finally ready to release?
What message might your animal be trying to share—if only you were willing to listen without the sunglasses?
Letting there be room for not knowing is the most important thing of all.
Make room.
Let go.
Listen.
That’s when the animals start whispering back.
Want to explore more? Read: The 4 Demons That Stop You from Becoming an Animal Communicator (Belief is the fourth demon. And it’s a sneaky one.)
Would you like me to help you with your animal companion? Book a discovery call.
I hope you enjoyed reading this post. If you want me to help you with your animal companion, just book a discovery call.