Phoebe

Phoebe’s Journey: The Teacher of the "In-Between"

I am in awe. Life has given me a hard lesson - again. I survived - again.

And I learned so much on the way through this lesson.

Phoebe was born in 2023. For unknown reasons, her mother rejected her, and we took her in as a bottle-kid. But her family started even before she arrived.

Imagine a bone-chilling winter night where Elizabeth gave birth to three tiny kids.

We only saved them by pure chance, hearing their cries in the dark. We had to put all three - including little Joey - into the oven (door open, resting on warm towels) just to bring the spark of life back into their frozen bodies.

These "Oven Kids" became Phoebe’s first siblings. Because goats are herd animals who thrive on socialization - just like us - we raised them together in a special box inside the house. This was the foundation of Phoebe and Joey’s bond that is still strong today.

Phoebe was a character from the start.

She was fiercely attached to her human mother, Lisa, and was our very first "jumper." Can you picture a tiny kid clearing a 1.2m wall with ease? In the early morning stillness, we would suddenly hear the pitter-patter of hooves roaming the house, as Phoebe decided she was due for her bottle and came looking for us. It was hilarious and exhausting all at once.

Eventually, our "Friends" group grew to include Monica, Chandler, Rachel, and later, Ursula.

The Shadow of 2023

The year of Phoebe’s birth was also the year of our greatest losses. In October 2023, the mystery illnesses peaked.

We were overwhelmed, at one stage feeding over 20 bottle-kids. Phoebe and her siblings had to move to the "Kindergarten" pen earlier than we liked. That deep, unbreakable bond was harder to form in the chaos, but Phoebe stayed strong... until early 2026.

The "Vrot Potjie"

It started as a limp. In the rainy season, you expect a thorn or a tick. But soon, it became a vrot potjie - a rotten hoof. We treated it every way we knew how, but it only grew worse. The Vet was worried the infection had reached the bone. His prognosis was the one thing I didn't want to hear: possible amputation.

Every day I looked at Phoebe, holding her leg high, trailing painfully behind the herd, and I listened to my heart. Everything I received from her said "no."

Anything but that. I decided to double-down on her healing, not by "fixing" her or ‘taking over’ for her body, but by providing the support it needed to heal itself.

The Daily Rhythm of Support

Our treatment became a sacred daily rhythm.

In the mornings, we applied a mixture of Devil’s Claw and Coconut oil - a potent natural anti-inflammatory - directly to the wound.

We then wrapped the hoof in a fresh cabbage leaf to draw out the angry heat of the infection.

Finally, we applied a bandage; this kept the wound clean and served as a padded cushion, protecting her should she accidentally put her foot down during the day.

The Choice: Fear and the First X-Ray

No matter how hard we tried, the wound simply didn’t heal. 

By the time I again reached out to the vet, I was deeply worried. The sight of Phoebe’s hoof was horrific - the inflammation was so aggressive, the swelling so intense, that it was quite literally forcing the claw downward. It looked as if the claw was being pushed right off the flesh of the hoof.

Even though it was still firmly attached, the visual was so gruesome that I became frantic. I was terrified the infection would take more than just her hoof.

In that moment of fear, I was the one who asked for the amputation. I wanted to cut the pain away before it took her whole leg.

I am so deeply grateful for our Vet; while many in the medical world can be rigid, he is truly one of a kind. He is a man of science, yes, but he is also a man of deep respect. He never forces his advice; instead, he gives me the space, time, and information I need to make the right choice for my herd.

He calmly suggested a diagnostic X-ray first to see what we were truly dealing with. What we saw on those images confirmed the grim reality: the bone was definitely infected and deteriorating.

The Sacred Week of the "In-Between"

Because there was no immediate time for surgery, we set a date for the amputation for one week later. The medical goal was to stop the infection from traveling up the leg, but that "waiting week" became the sacred turning point of our entire journey.  I was alone on the farm, and in that profound silence, a deeper realization began to take root - I felt that something much bigger was at stake than just a hoof.

Soon, the house itself transformed; healing books of the body, mind, and soul filled every available table, creating a landscape of new possibilities.

I continued the morning treatments, but it was our nighttime ritual where the real shift happened. Late at night, when the world was quiet, I applied what I learned - Spinal Flow combined with deep energy clearing and sound frequency.

I applied the Devil’s Claw and coconut mixture for Phoebe to lick, allowing her to treat herself from the inside out, while I doubled down on the energetic healing.

This was when the Eyvo frequencies, the deep energy clearing, and the constant Spinal Flow became our nighttime language. 

I held the sound frequencies against her body so her bones could "remember" how to vibrate at the frequency of health, while the Spinal Flow cleared the blockages in her nervous system.

Phoebe’s reactions were my guide. She would shake her head, scratch herself, and finally settle into a deep, calm silence next to me.  The moment she started regurgitating, I knew the energy was moving - and that we were no longer just waiting for a surgery, we were witnessing a rebirth. 

The Miracle of the Second X-Ray

When the day for the surgery arrived, we returned to the Vet with a heavy heart but a glimmer of hope. I had noticed that Phoebe had touched her hoof to the ground for the first time at the vet’s a week ago and by now she was half-walking on it.

Our Vet, always open-eared and observant, didn't just "go through with the plan." He was as keen as I was to see if the situation had changed, and we both agreed: we needed a second X-ray before anything else.

The result was nothing short of a miracle. The images showed regeneration at the primary infection spot. While there was a small new area of inflammation slightly higher up, it seemed the previous deterioration had stopped and reversed.

While sceptic, the Vet couldn't deny what he was seeing: Phoebe was using her leg, her weight was up, and her overall condition was thriving—the exact opposite of the "wasting away" that could be seen with bone infections.

Under anesthetic, the wound was cleaned as deeply as possible, but the amputation was cancelled.

When Phoebe woke up, she realized the truth: she was still whole.

The Sacred Space

I have learned that healing is never about taking over. It is not about thinking we can "fix" a biological system from the outside. It is about the "In-Between."

It is the sacred space where we offer our presence and support and then have the courage to step away so the body, mind, and soul can perform their own miracle without interference.

We are not the healers; we are the witnesses and the assistants to the innate ability every living soul brings to this planet: the power to heal itself without overthinking.

Life in the "Small Herd"

Phoebe’s journey continues every day as a cherished member of our "Small Herd."

This is our special group of souls who, due to their unique physical challenges, don’t roam as far or as fast as the big herd. Because they don’t wear down their hooves on the rugged, hard Namibian terrain, they rely on us for regular "manicures."

It’s a vital part of their care, ensuring they stand straight and true rather than leaning painfully into their joints.

The Milestone

For weeks, we hesitated to trim Phoebe’s hoof. We didn't want to disturb the delicate peace of her recovery. But on May 9, 2026, my gut - my Human Design guidance - spoke clearly: It is time.

We eased into the session with a "wait and see" heart, ready to stop the moment she felt distress. But what happened was pure magic. The outgrown claws vanished, the hoof returned to its neat, normal shape, and Phoebe didn't flinch.

There was no pain. No heat. No lingering infection.

I felt like I was walking on clouds. It was an euphoric moment of pride, not just for the hoof, but for the trust Phoebe placed in us.

She had waited patiently for me to "wake up" to my own abilities, teaching me that this wasn't just about her recovery - it was about healing the people around her so that she could finally heal herself.

The Healers of the Healer: The Council of the Goat Room

I realize now that Popcorn, Hase, and Lily were never just bystanders in the Goat Room; they were my constant assistants in this energetic theater.  They had originally come to this room for their own health challenges, but once they were healed, they simply refused to leave. It was as if they had graduated from being the "patients" to becoming the permanent staff of our sanctuary.

During the most intense nights of Phoebe’s journey, they were literally by my side. Even though they were in their own individual pens, their presence created a high-frequency field that supported me so I could, in turn, support Phoebe. 

They became the "healers of the healer," managing my energy when the weight of the work felt too heavy to bear.

Popcorn became the commander of my frequency.  On nights when I entered the room with my heart racing - heavy with frustration or irritation because the healing wasn't moving fast enough - she would stand like an unmoving mountain. She would look me straight in the eyes until I felt her voice echo in my soul: "Calm down. You have to trust. You have the strength." 

In her stillness, she absorbed my fears and gave me back my power. 

Lily became the persistent director of the heart.  Whether we were in the goat garden or the healing room, she refused to let me stay in a low vibration.  In the quiet of the healing room, she would stand in her pen with her head held high, or peer through the gate, staring at me with a fierce intensity until I finally looked up and noticed her. The moment our eyes met, I could feel Love and Joy rise within me, washing away the shadows of the day.

She is the one who leads the way; whenever I work on Ursula, Lily is there to nudge my hand toward Ursula’s heart space, reminding me: "This is the center. Start here."

And then there is Hase, my anchor of Trust.  She knew when my mind was wandering or when my fear was becoming too loud. She would call out, louder and louder, until I finally reached over to connect with her. 

The moment I touched her, I felt a deep "Knowing" rise in me—an unshakable trust that everything was as it should be.

Hase, Lily, and Popcorn stood together to support me through this.

Through them, I was able to find the devotion and patience needed for Phoebe’s long walk back to health. 

I never understood how potent their healing capabilities were until I realized they weren't just watching the miracle—they were holding the space for it to happen. 

Awaiting the Final Proof

We are not yet at the "final" X-ray—that day will come when we seek the medical proof of the bone's complete regeneration. But today, the miracle is enough.

Phoebe is using her leg, putting her weight down, and moving with the small herd.

There is a slight tenderness, a minor badge of honor from her journey, but she is whole.

Thank you, Phoebe, for being my greatest teacher. I love you.