Reiki–It Was Meant To Be


It isn’t that I needed something else to do with my time. My days are already jam-packed with writing, walking, keeping in touch with family and friends, some dancing and going out of an evening. But, in retrospect, I think this is something I’ve been preparing for my whole life.

Reiki (pronounced RAY-kee) is a “spiritual healing practice that can help return us to balanced functioning on every level—physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, even social,” states Pamela Miles in her book Reiki, A Comprehensive Guide. It is a practice begun in Japan over a hundred years ago and now is accepted and used worldwide. It has been known to cure cancer, headaches, alcoholism—a whole spectrum of ailments. It is a system often employed in conjunction with surgeries or treatments within the hospital environment. Many doctors have trained for and used it along with their medical treatments and, if they do not practice Reiki themselves, will suggest Reiki sessions to their patients, inviting Reiki therapists into the hospital to assist in the healing process.

Until just a few years ago, I’d never heard of Reiki. And then, my daughter died suddenly. The first year following that event was horrible: living and doing and trying to act normal and missing her with every ounce of my being. The year passed and I thought life would maybe get easier. But the second year turned out to be even harder. Very unhealthy thoughts plagued me. Then I heard about a “healer” who would be speaking at a church hall. A Reiki Master.

I went to that event, sitting in the back, on an aisle seat near the door so I could sneak out if she (or I) got too “weird.” When she finally began to talk to us (the hall was packed with people), she informed us that the people walking up and down the room on either side of the audience were healers. They were there to help anyone in need. Then, after a quiet, contemplative moment, she began her presentation by saying, “I sense that there are many people here today who have lost a child.”

Dead silence. For only a second or two. I can’t tell you what reaction(s) occurred in the rest of the room, but I lost any semblance of control I’d mustered just to get there. I refused to allow myself to make any noise, but I cried. I cried so hard that I began to tremble. And the trembling worsened to convulsion-like twitches. I didn’t dare to even try to get up and leave, afraid I’d fall over or cry out.

Soon, I felt someone stand behind me—a guy, I eventually realized. He never touched me, but his hands cupped above and close to my head, radiating a calming warmth. His hands, after a few minutes, and always diffusing heat, traveled down to my shoulders. The twitching stopped; the trembling stopped; my muscles relaxed. A deep peace settled onto and into me. I stayed for the rest of the presentation and on my way home, stopped at Burger King and got a double cheeseburger!

Yes, the program that day helped me survive and deal with my grief in healthy and positive ways. Curious, I looked up Reiki and learned a little about it. Then, early this year, another event challenged my family: cancer. This, I found unacceptable and decided to fight back.

I found that same healer who had spoken a few years ago and set up an appointment. She performed the therapy on me while being on the phone with, and sending the healing energy to, my ill family member. Although a complete cure was not effected right then, there developed a remarkable improvement in the cancer patient. The Reiki therapy is continuing, not only by that Reiki Master, but by me.

Shortly after that session, I happened to meet another Reiki Master at an open house for a health spa. I overheard her speaking with someone else and soon, we were talking… and talking… and talking. We both believed that our meeting was definitely not a coincidence, but rather synchronous. This was meant to be.

Under her tutelage and guidance, I have received first and second level training/empowerment and am now a certified Reiki Therapist. That means I am qualified and able to perform Reiki therapy and have been doing so for a few months now. I practice it almost every day, mostly on myself, but always including the distance healing for my ill family members and friends who are not beside me physically.

Why? As I said earlier, I think it was meant to be. Always, even since childhood, I’ve been interested in the spiritual, in the connections and communications between us and the supernatural. Reiki actualizes that for me. Its process blends meditation and spirituality and a strong belief system, all together of which generates a powerful transference of energy. Healing energy. Calming, relaxing, balancing energy. Peaceful, loving energy.

So for me, when the diagnosis is cancer, the antidote is Reiki. Learning it, practicing it, healing with it. It’s what I was meant to do.

 

More on Showing vs Telling


Since my recent presentation on Showing and Telling to our writing group, LCRW, I’ve become more aware of both modes of writing, not only as I work on my stories, but also in reading others’ novels.

I just finished an epic page-turner, Only Time Will Tell, by Jeffrey Archer. It ended with such a dynamic cliff-hanger/introduction to the sequel that I plan another trip to the library today to pick up The Sins of the Father. Archer writes best-sellers and I’m green with envy of his authorial finesse and expertise.

That being said, I noticed that, as I read parts of the novel, especially toward the end of the story, he was “telling.” (I think I noticed more of it at the end of the story, but I recall some throughout.) This was done as a summary of events and/or to give information that provided an explanation of impending actions. I re-read one such segment and have arrived at this realization:

Telling plays an important part in a story, a fact I supported in my presentation at LCRW’s meeting. As I read through a telling portion of Archer’s novel, I found it easily readable, not at all dull or boring, and actually a very credible explanation of how the protagonist arrived and performed at the next scene. The lesson reinforced here is that telling provides a necessary introduction to, or explanation of a character’s action that follows. The telling supports that action, makes it more believable or acceptable. It does not detract from the action by showing, by becoming action in and of itself.

The more you read, the more this concept will become clear to you. Telling is important to your story—to a degree. If you rely on telling most of the time, the reader will soon begin yawning and put the book down. Telling sets the stage; showing is the play.