Jade lives in Northern California on a homestead in an oak wood savanna. She grew up in New Mexico with a love of sunshine and nature. She has a Bachelor of Fine Arts From New Mexico State University and a Master of Fine Arts at James Madison University.
She and her husband live in an off grid, bermed home on a small plot of land in the backwoods of wine country.
Her activism work with 350.org earned local sponsorship for a small solar panel installation on housing for the homeless in Las Cruces. She is also an avid supporter for the Orangutan Foundation International program that purchases and protects pristine Borneo rain forest land in perpetuity.
She is a student of animal telepathy (empathy at a distance) and loves to paint portraits of animal friends.
In her paintings, she works both from life and in abstraction, sometimes arriving at portraits of bears and sometimes simply drawing what is directly in front of her. She loves to teach drawing and painting fundamentals like ‘learning to see’ and she loves how these fundamentals enliven daily life.
She is currently writing a series of mythopoeic books called, Tales from the Land Beneath the River.
How I came to learn about animal telepathy (empathy from a distance):
On Tuesday I realized something was different. My cat, Little Bear, likes to go on long jaunts, but this time she felt truly gone. Little Bear is an indoor-outdoor cat, but she never leaves for more than twenty four hours.
When twenty four hours had passed I could feel this was serious. I searched our ten acre property endlessly, calling under every pile of stones where she might squeeze into a little cave, sitting next to every brush pile, praying her dear little face would peer out at me, listening at every tree for her small answering call. Visions of hunting coyotes, owls and hawks flashed through my panicked mind. I began to feel sure I’d never see her again.
By Friday I was inconsolable. I had done little besides search all week. I’d scoured the ten acres of our land and beyond, calling her endlessly. My heart ached and I could hardly sleep.
On Saturday, in utter desperation, I reached out to Sharon Loy. I had never worked with an animal communicator before and was nervous about receiving false hope. At this point I was so distraught that I truly thought she would be giving me closure; that she might be able to connect with Little Bear’s dear little spirit and tell me how she had passed on.
Sharon scheduled me for her first available time, Sunday at noon. I was so beside myself that I dropped the phone when she called me. She asked me very kindly to hold my emotions so that I wouldn’t create waves of disturbance in her connection with Little Bear.
All of my concerns about false hope fell away as soon as she connected with my Little Bear. I knew in my deep self that she had truly connected with my baby, everything she said about her personality felt so deeply true.
Sharon asked Little Bear if she were still in her body. Little Bear had trouble with that. She was so terrified that she’d completely lost touch with her body. After some questioning she was able to confirm that she was indeed in her body.
My heart lifted up out of the depths of despair and began to race. I had real hope!
Sharon got specific details from Little Bear, she’d seen a big tall palm tree, she was in a drainage pipe, hiding, there was an arched metal fence nearby with elaborate metal work on the top, she was near a tan, stucco house, there was a dog barking in the distance and a wooded patch across the street. Sharon ascertained that Little Bear was in a neighborhood, about three miles from our house in the North West.
I was astounded, three miles? Goodness gracious, I’d never dreamed she would wander that far. Little Bear told us she had been hunting something, had gone past a line she set as a boundary around our property and looked around to realize she didn’t know where she was. She had just kept on going, and going, and going, trying to find home, but moving farther and farther away. When Sharon said she had passed a Mexican food place along her journey I was shocked. The closest Mexican food place was in the town to the North West of us, almost four miles away, Sharon said that she felt Little Bear was within a half mile or so of the restaurant.
The phone call gave me hope, we told Little Bear to stay where she was and that I was going to come and find her. Little Bear assured me she would meow when she heard me calling.
I searched all day, calling in every drainage ditch in a neighborhood I had never been to before three miles North West of our house. I felt like a crazy person, but I just kept on going and going. I went down every road, calling in every lane, asking anyone I saw. I listened for that small voice of my baby, calling to me. But I didn’t hear her anywhere. My heart jumped every time I saw a palm tree (rarely), or a metal gate (very often), or a three teared fountain (another landmark she’d mentioned). I shone my flashlight down countless drainage ditches, calling and calling her name.
Finally, at nightfall, I found a tan, stucco house that had elaborate, metal, arched fencing and drainage ditches out front. I was calling Little Bear’s name when people came out of the house behind me and said, “Are you looking for a dog or a cat?”
“We saw a fluffy, black cat get chased into that drainage ditch around 10:30am.” They said.
My heart leapt. I showed them a picture of Little Bear, who is a small, black cat.
“No, the cat we saw was larger than this, far more fluffy.”
Downcast, I called into the drainage ditches, but heard no plaintive little meow in response. Dogs barked on all sides and darkness fell. Little Bear had promised she would stay put. I thought it must have been another cat they’d seen. The people clearly thought I was a lunatic; I lived three miles away, why would I be searching specifically right here for my cat? My heart sank. I had just been searching for so long, all five days she’d been gone, with no reply to my calls.
I put up flyers with an offer of a reward for her and went home, saddened, but determined to search more when the sun rose again.
I told my husband about the encounter with the people who’d seen a black cat and he said, “You can’t trust their opinion! She gets all fluffy when she’s scared! That could have been her!”
I realized, with a shock, how true that was and how I had given up right when I had found a likely place. I drove back immediately, my heart in a panic. I was so afraid I had let my baby down. I didn’t know the name of the road I had found that house on, but I managed to re-navigate my winding route from the day’s fruitless searching.
To my surprise, when I found the house again I saw that the road was called Big Bear Lane. This seemed to bode well.
I called and called, with no reply. Then I saw two small dogs come out of the yard of the stucco house. They came into the road by slipping through the bars of the metal gate, I realized they were small enough to fit into the drainage pipe. Even though she’d promised to stay put, they could have chased her off.
I drove around to find the opposite end of the drainage pipe, thinking she might have run out that way. I called over there, but there was a bit of forested area behind a fence between me and the back of the house.
I decided to go back and wait it out at Big Bear Lane. I would wait until all the dogs in the neighborhood stopped barking, maybe then Little Bear would come to me.
As I was driving back around to return to Big Bear Lane I looked down a side street and saw a flash of something that looked like moonlight on the back of a black cat. I felt like I was clinging at straws, but I was determined to look into every possibility. I turned up that road. It was just on the other side of another wooded patch, about half a block from Big Bear Lane.
I got out of the car and called.
Then a faint meow called back.
I called again, so many times I had imagined that call. I thought I might be imagining it again.
A hoarse, frightened meow answered me.
I turned toward it, calling, fearing I was just talking to some cat I didn’t know. The hoarse call was so foreign sounding.
Then out of the darkness, my Little Bear ran into my arms.
My beautiful darling, in my arms at last.
I wept with joy.
My husband and I can never thank Sharon enough for this miracle. Our lives will never be the same. We now know that animal communication is absolutely real. We would never have found her without Sharon’s excellent and precise communication with her. We are eternally grateful.
Little Bear is sitting here beside me as I write this, we are both just full of love, gratitude and the certainty that this world is filled with magic.