Grieving the loss of a loved one—whether human or animal—is not only permissible, it is essential.

It is my understanding from an intuitive relationship with animals that it is complete folly to try to figure out what is right or wrong for humans by observing what other animals are doing. Observe any animal and you will quickly figure out that a hawk does not try to hunt like an eagle. The wolf does not try to be a lion.

To be sure, there are human abilities that other animals lack, but the more we learn about animals, the more abilities we discover that humans lack. Obviously, if animals were included in the Olympics, humans wouldn’t take home any gold medals. We can’t run as fast as a cheetah, swim as well as a fish, or lift as much weight as an elephant.

Every species embodies a solution to some environmental challenge, and some of these solutions are breathtaking in their elegance.

What I discovered at six has continued to be true: in rescuing an animal, I rescue myself. This reciprocity between animals and humans is woven into the very fabric of creation. It is the ecology of Paradise.

Change comes from dedicated, ordinary people, in the trenches, serving a cause greater than self.

When you have succeeded in letting go of a trivial preoccupation or two, your awareness will begin to expand into the deeper sources of stress in your life, the bigger uncontrollable things that you have been at pains to control.

The fact that we are eternal spiritual beings doesn’t detract from the importance of our temporary physical existence. On the contrary, it makes that existence all the more precious and remarkable.