I am floating into the scene of two poachers who have taken down a matriarch in the savanna. I'm behind the back of one, feeling his callous brutality as he hacks into her face for his trophy. She is not dead just yet, only unconscious, and I feel her horror and powerlessness over leaving this world and her family. The men are not from Africa; they just work here. Both are small and wiry, working efficiently without emotion other than a slight fear that makes them hurry. They wrap her tusks in heavy cloth and leave under cover of darkness.
Her spirit has left her body. I touch what is left of her face. There is blood everywhere. I am mourning with such a deep grief that the flood of unstoppable tears wakes me up.
Even now, I weep from the memory. The dream was so real, so graphic. Although I have a keen interest in elephant conservation, I have not felt deeply into the heart of ivory poaching before. This feeling fuels my desire to take action, and to inspire you to take action.
The morning after my dream (and the day before my birthday) I went for a hike to sort it out for myself. I prayed on what would be the best way for me to help, beyond the small monetary contributions I do now. My inner-guidance revealed that I should write and share my passion with you. I don't consider myself a political activist. I'm not a scientist or researcher. I'm a mystic that has been called as a guardian for the elephants--the Sacred Elephants. We must stop the sickening ivory trade. Please do not buy antique ivory or even the pseudo-ivory so prevelant in Asian gift shops. Let your love and reverence for elephants show in your support of living elephants, or all we'll have left are the ones in our dreams.
This is the first posting here. It feels slightly vain to be writing to *you* when at this moment, it's just me. But all the same, I know you're out there and that we will meet someday. I welcome that. Please comment on my posts so that I'll know when you've arrived.