Cadillac

Cadillac - The Naughty Goat Who Teaches Us About Life

Hi! I’m Cadillac!

I thrive on curiosity, and if you leave the door open for me, I’ll be ever so grateful. Thank you! By the way, I absolutely adore well-deserved Lucerne pellets. Or even better—chicken feed! That’s simply yum-lishes, and trust me, I know exactly where to find it! But remember, keep the door open for me, okay?

In a nutshell, that’s me—Cadillac ;)

I am the most curious and mischievous little goat in our herd. There was a time when everyone might have forgotten that fact, and to be honest, I didn’t take that neglect too well.

You see, I am very 3D oriented.

As I like to put it: “I am a very literal being, and I’m also quite physical. I don’t dwell much in the spiritual or energetic realms—I’m focused on this physical existence. This is why everything feels so tangible to me. Not everyone is like this; for instance, Popcorn often operates on the energetic plane, subtly influencing her surroundings. She navigates through energies, while I’m more tethered and grounded in this physical world, feeling things move through me in a very physical way.”

When I was born on February 19, 2023, I was a healthy little kid.

With two siblings by my side, our humans decided to raise one of them as a bottle-kid to lessen the burden on our mother—and they chose me.

I was cute, adorable, and always radiated a spark of naughtiness. When we explored the bush, I was the one leaping onto the tallest rocks, finding it utterly hilarious that everyone was stressed about getting me down.

Shortly after my arrival, my brother Pagani joined me in the cozy home (having sadly been rejected by our mother), followed by Priscilla, who faced the same fate, and Mr. Pink, born as a triplet needing a little extra care. Together, we formed a loving little family and thrived.

One day, it was time for us to venture out with the big herd into the expansive Veld. Everything seemed perfect—until Priscilla chose not to join. Shortly after, I began to feel unwell as well and decided to stay behind for a couple of days to rest and recuperate.

That choice marked my last adventure with the big herd.

I simply refused to walk with them. No amount of persuasion could sway me. I felt secure in my decision to stay home.

However, this choice coincided with the tragic events of October 2023, during which we lost many beloved members of our herd. Perhaps I absorbed some of that heavy energy, or it overwhelmed me to witness so much illness and loss surrounding me. Thankfully, my little family survived the tragedy, but I became unbalanced.

My hooves grew at an extraordinary rate, patches of skin began to fade away, and a grey film clouded my eyes intermittently. While my human family managed to get most of those issues under control, I still felt off-kilter. I became introverted, keeping close to my family and avoiding contact with others.

I transformed into a peculiar little case—withdrawn and distant.

Only after I shared my messages with my humans did they begin to understand what transpired.

The loss of our herd members left everyone reeling, but how much more profound must it have been for us, deeply immersed in the experience, to witness our family suffer and pass away so swiftly? While my human family felt helpless and vulnerable, we were in the thick of it, feeling every ounce of anguish.

Can you imagine the fear we experienced as we watched our companions die—the pain reflected in their eyes, the anxiety of knowing their imminent fate, and the terror that gripped us at the thought of possibly being next?

The burden of that trauma weighed heavily on us, as we navigated a reality far beyond what our humans could perceive.

Amidst it all was me, sweet Cadillac, innocent in my 3D world, confronted by something far beyond my understanding.

Fortunately, I am strong and possess a robust will. My naughtiness has its perks—like making you laugh! Yes, I am strong, and that strength, combined with my curious nature, helped me persevere.

Like any trauma experience, especially one of this magnitude, healing comes after resolution, often presenting symptoms along the way. Just as it was for me.

When we moved to the new farm, leaving behind the memories of that tragic place, I began to show symptoms on my skin, hooves, and eyes. These symptoms indicated a separation conflict, a physical performance self-devaluation conflict, and a visual separation conflict.

In my words, here’s how my healing unfolded:

“The old is being made new again. It is natural for the old to be scraped away, revealing the new beneath. This can happen anywhere on our bodies, and it’s merely how it manifests for me right now. I don’t see this as something needing to be toiled over.

It is a time for slowing down and going inward. It’s a time to allow the old to vanish from within us. This is how it is occurring for me.”

I also shared a deeper, profound message:

“I don’t believe I was ever uncomfortable walking (referring to my hooves growing long). It felt like a new way of being that I was getting used to.

It didn’t feel bad; it just felt different—a different perspective, a different path to tread for now, presenting new information to learn and share with those around me. Just because something appears wrong on the outside doesn’t mean it’s wrong on the inside.

It can simply be a different manifestation of what’s unfolding.

Sometimes, things may look worse before they get better. I’m not saying this is my truth, but it’s important not to assign a single meaning to anything.

There can be infinite meanings, which is why connecting with us, listening, and understanding is crucial.

That’s the only way to grasp the truth of each moment.”

Today, I’m alive, healthy, and still delightfully NAUGHTY!

I bring laughter and sometimes a deep sigh of patience from my humans.

I hold a very special place in their hearts for simply being—their clever, funny Cadillac!