In Search of Gus

By Carol Ann Rogers

Don and Marlies search near Santa Fe, looking for clues to help them find Gus but as they soon learn, the information they seek isn't bound by space or time. They hire a dowser who lives hundreds of miles away and she shares accurate details about their lost dog during their first conversation.

Remarkable, overlapping perceptions of seven

• Language: English
• Publisher: Luminare Press
• Release date: Aug 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781643886930

Carol Ann Rogers

The author lives in Virginia with her family, dogs and chickens. She's fascinated by evidence of the interactive nature of our experience and is inspired by pathways for practicing our oneness. She can be reached at [e-mail].

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In Search of Gus

Copyright © 2021 by Carol Ann Rogers

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Front Cover Photo by Donald K. Rogers

Printed in the United States of America

Luminare Press

442 Charnelton St.

Eugene, OR 97401

www.luminarepress.com

LCCN: 2021911311

ISBN: 978-1-64388-693-0

Contents

Chapter 1

Budaghers Corner

Chapter 2

Unexpected Invitations

Chapter 3

Family Gifts

Chapter 4

First Clues

Chapter 5

We’re not in Kansas Anymore

Chapter 6

Anomalous Cognition

Chapter 7

Overlapping Clues

Chapter 8

Spooky Action at a Distance

Chapter 9

The Power of our Thoughts

Chapter 10

If We Could Talk with the Animals

Chapter 11

Mind-Matter Interactions

Chapter 12

Messages from Gus

Chapter 13

The Collective Mind

Chapter 14

The Illusion of Space and Time

Chapter 15

Life is but a Dream

Chapter 16

Moments in Question

Chapter 17

The Text

Chapter 18

Exploring the Possibilities

Chapter 19

A Field of Possibilities

Chapter 20

New Ways Forward

Chapter 21

Echoes of Environmental Change

Chapter 22

Echoes in Economics & Social Justice

Acknowledgments

Notes

About the Author

An Invitation to Dance

Chapter 1

Budaghers Corner

Budaghers lies halfway between Santa Fe and Albuquerque,

a southwestern terrain with mysteries of its own, but the one that held us captive for many weeks unveiled a path we never expected.

The area was established as a rest stop and trading post by Joseph and Sally Budagher in the 1950’s, where they sold gas and Native American jewelry, pottery and rugs made on the local Pueblo reservations, years before Interstate 25 was built. Mountain ranges run to the east and west but Budaghers is a vast landscape of desert, an intersection of people and their stories.

We expected to find the clues we needed in this physical place. But we were mistaken. The information we sought wasn’t bound by space or time—it wasn’t contained in a single location.

My brother’s voice was barely audible but his anguish was unmistakable. He and Marlies had been searching for Gus for three days. As he struggled to explain how they had become separated, his throat held tight and would not release his words, as if the truth could be altered if left unspoken.

Don is a sweet soul, the older of twin boys, the first to lend an ear or share his time when others need help. Every winter, he volunteers in adaptive ski programs as a guide for those with disabilities and often fundraises for different non-profits but he struggles with being able to direct that same loving energy towards himself. He carries a sadness of ancient origin that has created challenges for him in his life.

At sixty-four, he cycles, skis and appears to be lean and healthy but a few years ago, his body betrayed this perception.

After a morning of cycling on roads north of Santa Fe, he began to feel sick and climbed off his bike. As he knelt on the ground bracing for waves of nausea, a man drove by in a tow truck, pulled off the road and quickly walked over to ask if he could help. Don managed to ask for a ride to his car, several miles away but the man said he would take him to the nearby fire station instead.

Emergency staff loaded him into an ambulance and as one of the paramedics attached an IV, he began to feel light headed and passed out. His left anterior descending artery, known as the widow maker, was completely blocked.

A defibrillator delivered a jolt of electrical current into his chest and his life began again . . . with reframed perceptions and an altered path before him.

Don and his wife Marlies adopted Gus as a puppy, a sweet Bichon Poodle mix who had been a constant companion for eleven years—following them from room to room in their home, curling up next to them on the couch, trotting beside them on trails around Santa Fe.

Hundreds of miles separated our homes as I listened to his story. He had stopped to meet someone in Budaghers and this is where Gus had been lost. My heart ached for them and I longed to help in some way . . . and then an idea came to mind.

Like many, I’ve had those brief moments of perceiving things, like having a sense of who’s calling before I answer the phone. These mysterious moments of knowing slip into our experience and are easily dismissed as interesting coincidences but a growing body of research and evidence is providing an expanded explanation to help us better understand the nature of our reality.

I dialed the dowser’s number.

My brother lost his dog, I said as my voice cracked and I struggled to hold back the tears. He lives in Santa Fe.

A raspy cough came through the phone.

Is it a small dog?

Yes, I said.

Is the dog white?

How can she know this? I wondered. 

A wave of possibilities swirled around us, containing different scenarios including one with Gus safe back home. It felt like the dowser was a lifeline to this outcome—help was arriving in ways we might not understand.

I’m really sick, she said. I may have pneumonia so let me get some sleep and I’ll call you back in a couple hours and then we can talk more about your brother’s dog.

Thank you, was all I could say and then the dam broke open and the tears came. 

Ginny was quiet. And then her voice changed—it softened and became gentler. I have found many pets before, she said. And missing people. I work with the police. Do you remember Chandra Levy? I gave the police the location where they would find her in Rock Creek Park. And they did.

I slowly exhaled a long breath and felt a shift in possibilities. It came as it often does when I’m wrestling with an emotional response to life’s surprises and then from somewhere, a thought presents itself . . . and it says: remember, we can create the experience we choose.

Chapter 2

Unexpected Invitations

A memory comes to me . . .

The morning air is filled with the music of birds celebrating the arrival of spring as I look out the window while rinsing breakfast dishes. Budding branches on fifty-foot oaks and tulip poplars filter warm sunlight into the stillness of our home with kids just off to school. 

Feeling grateful for small signs of new life emerging, my attention is drawn to the movement of an unusual animal emerging from the woods as it cautiously walks into our back yard.

It has the appearance of a dog but it’s lean with a mix of black and brown spots throughout its coat and a white tip at the end of its thin tail. I move to a different window for a better view and it looks back at me, holding my gaze for several seconds. A clear and unmistakable message comes to me from this mysterious animal. I know and feel its message as if words are spoken . . . help me it says.

Its hips have patches of missing fur with open wounds that are bleeding.

It is a coyote.

The next day, it returned and conveyed the same message to my daughter during extended eye contact through our family room window. 

A kind volunteer at the local Wildlife Rescue office told us the wounds sounded like mange, a debilitating condition produced by a parasite that causes extreme itching under the skin—left untreated, an animal’s health will deteriorate. She offered medicine we could put in food for the coyote and provided her address in Alexandria, which was about forty-five minutes away. I longed to help this animal as I began processing the logistics of a ninety-minute drive with our family’s schedule for the next couple of days. In response to my delay, she said there was another volunteer in Tyson’s Corner in case that would be more convenient.

I smiled. There are no coincidences. She was located two blocks from my office.

It’s hard to convey how emotionally connected I became to this unusual animal—it was like an invitation to dance with forces unknown, within a realm that was separate from our