3/13/26
Hello from St. Augustine! I’ll have lots more to write later about my recent travels, but right now I need to write about the wonderful time I had during my second visit to Tallahassee. This is a long post, but it covers a lot of beautiful and meaningful experiences and themes, so I hope you will “come along with me” by reading it.
I should perhaps start by mentioning that before this winter, Tallahassee had never really occupied any space in my mind. I do remember learning in fifth grade that it was the capital city of Florida, but beyond that, I had never really given it any thought. It had never entered my mind as a place to visit.
I’m so glad I did, though, first back in early February, and then again on my way back east after my panhandle adventures. It is a special place.
First, though, I want to detour a bit to mention an aspect of my life that has been growing in importance to me. It will tie into my “Tally tales” later in this post.
That is, animal communication. Telepathic animal communication, sometimes referred to as IIC (interspecies intuitive communication.) I touched on it at the end of my last post. Some of you may be familiar with the idea. If not, I recommend as an introduction to the topic this video of one of the world’s best known animal communicators, the South African woman Anna Breytenbach, in her work with a black leopard.
I’ve been interested in this topic ever since the spring of my initial year of travels, in 2022, when I stayed with a woman in Brooklyn, NY who told me some detailed personal stories of her own experiences working with animal communicators, first with her own cat, and then with a deceased cat of a family member of hers.
Those stories piqued my interest, and I did some research by first buying and reading a how-to book, and later attending a few online symposiums for animal communicators.
I had a resurgence of interest a few weeks ago, while cat sitting in Navarre. I reached out to a friend of mine who can do this sort of communication, and that friend was very supportive of my desire to learn. We have been doing video chats and messaging about how I can learn to do it. I’m feeling cautiously optimistic that I will indeed be able to develop this skill.
I practiced a bit in Navarre, with the two cats there, Nike and Sombra. I don’t think I’ve “got it” yet, but I did notice some changes in their behavior after my efforts (for example, more eye contact and more physical affection) so I found that encouraging.
Also in Navarre, I spent some time relaxing on the backyard swing. When I did so, I noticed many brown anole lizards appearing on the wooden support posts next to me, often making eye contact with me, and staying close by for longer than I would expect. It all felt very potentially powerful and exciting.
On the last morning of my Navarre cat sit, my host, Kelly—who had just arrived back after a trip to Egypt—incredibly kindly drove me 25 miles west to the Greyhound stop in Pensacola. I had mistakenly understood that the Greyhound made a stop in Navarre, which had led me to feel comfortable accepting that sit. When I realized the bus did not stop there, I was really concerned about how I would get back to Pensacola in an efficient way to catch it. When Kelly offered the ride, I was immensely grateful.
That Greyhound ride itself lasted more than five hours, but it passed without incident, and I found myself back in Tallahassee for four more nights.
It is a lovely city, hillier than most of Florida, with beautiful tree-lined streets.
I stayed once again for two nights with my wonderful Servas hosts Tim and Regine.
On my second day there, they hosted the Servas potluck I had arranged by reaching out to other local Servas hosts. Unfortunately, of the five households in the area, only two others were available that day, but we had a lovely potluck with Tim, Regine, a new-to-Servas member named Amy, and Tom, who was an existing longtime friend of Tim and Regine’s, and who was to be my next host.
I love the idea of connecting local Servas folks with each other; I’m going to set an intention to do more of that as I travel.
While staying with Tim and Regine, I ventured out for the kind of nature-park exploring I typically do in any new place. I set out first for the Goodwood Museum and Gardens, which was beautiful with the spring flowers.
Then I looked on the map and found a park—Governors Park—that honestly looked kind of boring, but I thought I would give it a try since it was nearby. I arrived and my fears were somewhat confirmed: instead of my preferred park terrain of forested trails, I found a large open field. I set out to walk the perimeter, though, and I did enjoy some nice views of the blue sky and open grass with a few trees.
As I rounded the third corner, though, I spotted what looked like a bit of a wooded trail.
Earlier, upon entering the park, I had seen a man seemingly hovering near the opening of that trail, which had made me a bit wary to explore it; that was why I had chosen to walk the sunny perimeter instead, despite the heat.
But I didn’t see anyone there now, so I ventured in. I was enjoying the shady path when I spotted that man sitting on a fallen log across the trail just ahead. I felt another moment of wariness, but then reminded myself that most of my encounters with strangers tend to go pretty well. So I chose to engage with him, by asking if he knew how much farther the trail went. He stood up and said he wasn’t sure—he had just stopped there on the log to eat his apple.
Then things turned magical, as I am continually finding they are wont to do.
We talked for probably at least 30 to 40 minutes… mostly about animal communication! It turns out he has been practicing it—though via a different approach from mine—for some years. (He said he had never talked to any humans about it.) His main approach has been to go out into nature parks as he travels (he also travels around Florida by bike, as it turns out) and sit very still, just allowing his presence to sink into the forest. He will return to the same spot for multiple days in a row, and he finds that as he does so, the animals will slowly make themselves more known, growing closer to him with time. He gave several cool examples.
In fact, he told me that about 20-30 minutes earlier, he had seen a snake on the trail, who slowly began moving toward him. As is his habit, he made a point to keep any visceral fear in check, and instead welcomed the connection with the snake.
Even more amazingly, he said he had noticed me shortly beforehand, walking on the other side of the field. He had suddenly felt struck by a compulsion to run over towards the opening of the trail to call out to me to come and look at the connection he was having with this snake.
What?
Wow.
The world is so strange and mystical sometimes.
He had decided not to do so, which was probably for the best, I thought, for various reasons… but… wow.
It was really cool to talk about many aspects of animal communication, consciousness, etc.
As I walked away after thanking him for the rich connection, I knew I needed some time to digest and soak it all in, so I found another little wooded spot nearby. Then I went back to the entrance of the park to unlock my bike (main pic in this post) and pedaled off to the natural-food store, all the while marveling at the magic of travel, consciousness, and the human and animal family we are all a part of.
After the dinner potluck the next evening, Tom helped me to load up my rig into his car, and we drove the few short miles to his longterm (40 years!) home with his wife, Katya. I had met these two briefly during my last stay with Tim and Regine, but this time I was able to stay as their guest for two nights.
They are both amazing people. Tom—who just had his 78th birthday—is still working as a professor at nearby Florida State University, and Katya (who sometimes goes by Ka) used to live in Portland in the 1970s, founding and contributing to various feminist and radical communities at that time! Talk about magic!! I was so excited to spend time with her and hear some of her stories. She also is a prolific collage artist. (I shared a few of her pieces in my earlier Tallahassee blog post.) And she writes haiku every day! More on both of those to come at the end of this post.
In addition to connecting with Tom and Ka, my main priority for staying at their house was to bicycle the nearby St. Marks Trail. It is a 16-mile rail-trail that goes all the way down to the gulf. The 32-mile round trip (plus a connector trail that goes right near their house) was a perfect day trip for me.
I found more magic on the trail. The weather was perfect—warm and sunny—and the greenery and shade were beautiful.
I experienced what I considered to be more magical animal connections, too:
First there was a small frog—the only one I have seen in Florida—who appeared on a bench I rested on, early in the day. It stayed near me for at least five or ten minutes, as I gazed upon it and did my best to connect on an energetic level.
Later, I saw a small tortoise on the trail, though I feared for its safety—I had nearly hit it, since it was hard to see on the trail—and it seemed to fear my presence, pulling its head in. I did kneel down to peer at it, hoping it would emerge. It did not, though I did notice it looking at me, blinking from time to time. Eventually I decided I should leave it in peace, so I moved on.
Then later, on another bench where I rested, a green anole showed up! Like its brown cousins in Navarre, it regarded me from a variety of angles. I have really been enjoying my anole connections ever since then. They seem to enjoy connecting with humans.
When I got back to the house at the end of the day, I was greeted by another magical being, Tom and Katya’s cat Jenny. She has a special way about her that mesmerizes anyone who meets her, Ka told me. She certainly mesmerized me.
Ka shared some haiku that she had written about me and my way of life, which I found delightful!
Then, after dinner, we dived into a collage-making session. I decided to focus on the theme that was top-of-mind for me, in the end creating more of an “assemblage,” as Ka called it, rather than a traditional collage that covers the whole page. I was very happy with it.
Each of the animals had significance for me: the frog because I had just connected with a frog that day; the giraffe because it is the symbol for the heart-centered Nonviolent Communication (NVC); and the monkey because I was excited to reconnect with the monkeys at Jungle Friends in the next few days.
Katya encouraged me to also write a haiku, based on the assemblage. After a few shaky attempts, I managed to find one that felt good to me:
Frog, giraffe, monkey
What do they all think about?
I will try to know
—
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