Warrior to Whisperer: An Odyssey into the Quantum Field with Oscar the Cat

Warrior to Whisperer: An Odyssey into the Quantum Field with Oscar the Cat

by US Navy (Ret.) Commander Gerald Bunch


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Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781504349321
Publisher: Balboa Press
Publication date: 02/25/2016
Pages: 172
Sales rank: 729,668
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 8.50(h) x 0.37(d)

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Warrior to Whisperer

An Odyssey into the Quantum Field with Oscar the Cat

By Gerald Bunch, Gabriella Gafni

Balboa Press

Copyright © 2016 Gerald Bunch
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5043-4932-1



"Gerald, this is Bonnie." (As is the case throughout this book, this is not the real name of the client or the animal.) "Please help me. I'm desperate. Abe left home three days ago, and I can't find him anywhere. He has never done this before. I'm so worried. Can you help me?"

That was the beginning of a phone call I received on a bright, sunny autumn afternoon a few years ago. Bonnie is a woman for whom I had done animal communication several months prior. She lives on the other side of the country from me, and I had never met her or her cats in person, but when operating in the quantum field, time and space are not factors. Physical contact is not required to communicate. She had been referred to me by a friend of a friend because one of her four cats was urinating outside of the litterbox, and another was being a bully to the other cats. At that time, I had connected with her two problem cats, as well as her other cats, one of whom was Abe. The earlier problems were resolved, but now another issue had arisen: Abe had left home.

When I asked her if anything different or unusual was going on in her house, Bonnie told me her son and daughter-in-law had been visiting for the past week. Abe did not seem to like her son at all. As a result, Abe avoided him altogether. She added that her guests were leaving that day, moving to the west coast, and would probably not be back for a long time. She wanted to know if I could contact Abe, tell him that, and ask him to come home.

Lost and runaway animals are the most difficult cases for communicators to handle, and many communicators will not take them. In many cases, the animal has died, and there is nothing that can be done. Sometimes the animal is so lost it doesn't know where it is, so even contacting the animal does not establish where they are or how to direct their guardian to find them. Then there are cases when an animal does not want to be found, has a reason for having left home, and wants to stay away. This seemed to be the case with Abe.

I told Bonnie I would contact Abe and see what was going on with him. Having talked with Abe before, I reviewed my notes and remembered he was a bright and cheery little guy who had an excellent relationship with his cat housemates. It was also clear that Abe dearly loved his person, Bonnie. He was an indoor/outdoor cat, which meant he could come and go as he pleased, but Bonnie always called him in at night. In the past, he had always come home.

I will go into more detail later, but basically to communicate with an animal, I do a short meditation to quiet all of the chatter or "self-talk" in my mind. I also use a photograph of the subject to help me focus on that specific animal. Once I have focused on the animal in question, I begin the conversation. I always start by asking if I may talk to them. After all, most of us humans would not just walk up to someone and start chatting away unless we knew the person we're conversing with fairly well. It's the same with all species. Courtesy, caring, and a slow, relaxed, non-threatening approach are the best ways to establish a rapport. As I communicate, I write down my questions, as well as the answers I receive from the animal.

So I contacted Abe and was relieved to hear from him that he was safe and healthy. Once we established that, I asked him when he intended to go home. I will never forget the sad, plaintive answer of this dear soul. He paused for a moment, and then quietly said, "I don't have a home." I assured him he most certainly did have a home, that Bonnie was very concerned about him and that she was extremely distraught that he was gone. He repeated his earlier assertion that no, he did not have a home. When I asked him why he felt that way he explained because "that person" was there he could no longer live there. I asked him to show me the person who was there. I got a vision of a man of medium height and weight, about five feet nine inches tall and about one hundred sixty pounds, with dark, short hair, medium complexion, wearing jeans and a buttoned shirt. In a later conversation with Bonnie, she said this was an exact description of her son.

Next, I asked Abe if he was lost or if he knew how to get home. He answered that of course he knew his way back to the house. After all, he was an outdoor cat. He had roamed the area many times, and knew his way around. I then asked him if he had enough food and water. He told me he did, and that he had been getting food at the house of friendly human. I asked him to show me the house, and I got a vision of a white house with blue shutters and a fence around the yard.

Having established that he was safe, well fed, and knew where he was, I told him that the person he did not like was no longer with Bonnie. I informed him the person had left and would not be back. I let him know his home was there, his cat friends were all there, and that Bonnie truly loved him and wanted him to come back. He seemed hesitant to accept all of this, so I asked him if he would be willing just to go to the house, stay outside, and check it out. He told me he would think about it. I again told him how much he was missed, how much Bonnie loved him, and how worried she was. In my experience, animals like to be told how much they are loved over and over again. Then again, isn't that true of humans too? I said my goodbyes and closed the connection.

I called Bonnie and reported the conversation to her, reading my transcript word for word. She confirmed the description of her son and said she was pretty certain she knew the house where Abe was being fed. She assured me she would keep an eye out for him. I only had to wait about three hours for an update. "Guess who just came up to the house!" Bonnie exclaimed with a combination of joy and relief in her voice. "Abe is back!" About an hour after that I received an email with a picture of Abe lying on Bonnie's lap.

So, how did all of this happen? By formal education, I am an engineer. The idea of communicating with a different species on the other side of the country is something I would never in a million years have thought possible when I completed college and started my career. I have learned many things in the years since I graduated from the Naval Academy and flight school and subsequently went to war. I never thought I would learn that all life forms are intelligent, sentient beings with complex lives, thoughts, and emotions. I never imagined it could be possible to communicate with all life forms through the zero-point energy of the quantum field. I certainly never thought that it would be possible for me to do that on a regular basis.

How does animal communication work? Well, how it works doesn't matter nearly as much as the fact that it does work. It is also worth noting that this is not a unique "gift" given to a few anointed ones. The ability to communicate with other species is a capability with which we are all born. As we learn spoken language, this ability retreats to the back of our consciousness where, for most humans, it lies dormant. However, animal communication remains a capability all humans can re-learn, and anyone can master.

Later in the book I will write about how I learned to communicate and how it works, but again, the how is not as important as knowing it does work. To draw a parallel, one would not have to go too far back in history to the time when flipping a switch on the wall to illuminate a room would have been viewed as black magic. Even now, most people do not know how that works. They just know it does, and it happens every time they flip that switch.

I have the same feeling about animal communication. Through my brief look at quantum physics, the quantum field and the zero-point energy of the quantum field, I am beginning to understand the science behind animal communication. However, I know from experience that I don't need to know how it works, I just need to know that it does work, and it works all the time.

In a sense, like Abe, I, too, am coming home. I am coming home to a way of thinking and being in the world I did not know was ever a part of me. Likewise, perhaps the entire human race is coming home to a fuller appreciation of the other species with whom we share our planet, these other species with whom we exist in the quantum field.



In the autumn of 2008, a few years before the conversation with Abe, a series of events transpired which resulted in an extremely sudden, unexpected paradigm shift for me. A new reality began to reveal itself, and I had the first whispers of a feeling that my life would never be the same.

It all started one memorable Friday afternoon when my daughter Trace called me from the school where she taught. She is a volunteer with a local organization called "The Rescue House" (a feline rescue and adoption agency) and has been a cat person all of her life. The Rescue House, a non-profit, all-volunteer organization co-founded by Joan Star, has been in operation since 1999, and to date has saved more than eleven thousand felines.

Although I knew about The Rescue House and we had briefly sheltered a cat once before, the notion of "bonding" with other species had never entered my thoughts. From my perspective, animals were purely instinctual entities, devoid of intellectual, emotional, or psychological substance. Throughout my life, I was benignly indifferent to animals, experiencing neither much affection nor antipathy for them.

While growing up, there were always a number of animals around me (dogs, cats, goats, chickens, etc.). However, they were in the periphery of my awareness, and I certainly never thought about the possibility of their sentience, let alone their ability to communicate ... but I'm getting ahead of myself.

Back to that unforgettable September afternoon. Gary, the custodian at Trace's school, brought her a young cat that had been wandering around the school grounds. Searching the neighborhood around the school, Trace was unable to find anyone who knew the cat, or where he might live. With no other option, she decided to get him into The Rescue House system. It being late on Friday, her choices of what to do with a stray cat were quite limited. She tried to find a foster home for him in the system, but she was unsuccessful in locating a sanctuary for the little orphan. This young feline had no idea of what life had in store for him; or, on second thought, perhaps he did. Trace asked whether my wife Catherine and I could take the cat, estimated to be about five months old, just for the weekend. "If you can't," she said, "I'll have to keep him locked in the supply room at school until I can find a foster home for him."

Catherine and I agreed, and Trace brought the cat, named "Gary" in homage to his original rescuer, to our house. From the moment the tabby came in, I thought he was one of the most engaging, friendly creatures that I had ever encountered. I began to refer to him as "a cog" – a dog in a cat's body. He spent the afternoon exploring, playing, and endearing himself to us in the most natural, delightful manner. Later that night, he lay on my lap and stretching out his paws, looked very much like he had already made himself right at home. As he arched his back, I rubbed his belly and told him, "You look like a little hot dog." Instantly, the famed jingle came to mind: "... If I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener, everyone would be in love with me." That was our homeless guest – a bundle of love. We immediately dispensed with the name "Gary", and replaced it with our private label for him, "Oscar". After all, he was only going to be with us for a few days, so what did it matter?

During his weekend stay with us, Oscar enchanted us with abundant displays of cuteness, attention, and affection. At times, when my eyes met with those of the little fur ball, it seemed as if I could almost sense his intelligence, emotions, and sentience. Then my logical, left-side brain would kick in, and I would tell myself, What am I thinking? He's only a cat! In those few days together, though, he completely obliterated my false perception of cats and their reputation of being aloof, disinterested, and uncaring toward the human race. He looked at us with what appeared to be such awareness and connection that it almost seemed he wanted to communicate with us.

Trace had told us that on Monday "Gary" had a veterinary appointment to be examined, neutered and micro chipped. One of the local vets, who donates time to The Rescue House on an 'as available' basis, would perform the procedures. The protocol is to bring a cat in first thing in the morning and drop him/her off. As the day unfolds, the vet performs any and all necessary procedures whenever time permits. Since Trace had to work, she asked if Catherine could take Gary to the vet. Catherine agreed so on Monday morning she took him to the vet's office and left him with the very busy receptionist, saying only, "Here's the cat from The Rescue House. Someone else will pick him up this afternoon."

Later that day, when the procedures were over, Trace informed me over the phone, "Gary is ready. I'll bring him to your house."

"Oh, you mean Oscar!" I said with somewhat of an amused tone.

"Why are you calling him that?" Trace asked in a very surprised voice.

My daughter laughed when I told her our story of how we had named Oscar, and she proceeded to recount what at the time appeared to be an incredible tale. Apparently the vet technicians, after seeing our new friend sitting up on his hind legs swatting at a toy on a string, decided that he looked like a boxer working a speed bag. Not having heard a name for their little patient, they called him "Oscar", after the prizefighter Oscar de la Hoya. At that time, the anecdote seemed to be nothing more than a humorous coincidence, and we jokingly said, "Oscar has named himself." Since then, however, I have come to believe that there are no coincidences in life. Everything happens in Divine Order. There is no doubt in my mind that Oscar deliberately told us his name.

On Tuesday morning, Trace called to say that she had found a foster home for Oscar, and she would come by and retrieve him that night. I had to attend a Home Owner's Association meeting and planned to leave before Trace came over. As I prepared to go, I looked at the little being at my feet, and said casually, "Goodbye, little cat! It has been such fun having you here. You're such a sweetheart."

I climbed into my car and had not gone more than a mile or two down the road when I was hit by an emotional thunderbolt that permeated every fiber of my being. Pulling over to the side of the road, I felt such deep emotion that I was moved to tears. I called Catherine on my cell phone, and almost in a tone of desperation, choked out the words, "Don't let Trace take Oscar! He has to stay with us!"

After a measured pause, I heard Catherine say, "Are you serious? You know we can't keep a cat. We travel too much!"

A few years prior to this I had retired as a commercial airline pilot. Catherine had also retired from her career as a psychotherapist. Since then we'd been engaging in our passion to travel and learn about the cultures and spiritual traditions of the world. We had intended to continue traveling and living out of a suitcase for much of our lives. The kids were grown and gone and all of the plants in our condo were artificial. Whenever someone would ask me why I had no pets, I would answer in my somewhat salty navy language with, "I don't want to own anything that shits, sheds or eats."

Unbeknownst to us, however, our lives were about to unfold in a direction we had never anticipated. In short, the universe had other plans for us, and Oscar was to play a significant role in them.

"I know we travel too much and we can't keep a cat," I replied, "and I don't know how we are going to do it, or even why I'm saying this, but he has to be with us."

"Let's discuss this when you come home," Catherine said.

"OK," I answered, "but just don't let Oscar go right now." Somehow, I had an inner knowledge that there was really nothing to discuss.


Excerpted from Warrior to Whisperer by Gerald Bunch, Gabriella Gafni. Copyright © 2016 Gerald Bunch. Excerpted by permission of Balboa Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Table of Contents


Foreword, xi,
Foreword, xiii,
Introduction, xvii,
Chapter 1 Coming Home, 1,
Chapter 2 A Thunderbolt Named Oscar, 6,
Chapter 3 The Warrior, 12,
Chapter 4 The Journey Begins, 16,
Chapter 5 The Journey Continues, 21,
Chapter 6 Same Differences, 25,
Chapter 7 Bridging Realms of Consciousness, 32,
Chapter 8 The Obe Juan Phenomenon, 39,
Chapter 9 A Leap of Faith, 49,
Chapter 10 Exploring the Wilderness of the,
Quantum Field, 57,
Chapter 11 The Mystery of the Boat, 68,
Chapter 12 Learning In the "Real" World, 75,
Chapter 13 Voices of Compassion and Reason, 85,
Chapter 14 The Cat Whisperer, 92,
Chapter 15 Communicating With Your Animal, 101,
Chapter 16 Oscar, the Wonder Cat, 114,
Chapter 17 Ode to Obe Juan, My Zen Master, 120,
Chapter 18 The Odyssey Continues, 128,
Chapter 19 Changing the World, 137,
Epilogue, 143,
Appendix A, 145,
End Notes, 149,

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