In the early light of a clear, cold Lynnwood morning, I stepped gingerly onto my balcony, seeking a moment’s respite from cabin fever as I entered the fourth week of homebound recovery from surgery.
A deep sense of peace flowed through my body as I breathed in the crisp air, smiled at the sparkle of sun on heavy frost, took in the skeletal beauty of gently swaying deciduous trees, and listened to the insistent call of an unidentified bird. I felt deep gratitude for the beauty of this earth and the multitude of blessings that are mine every day, and especially for family, friends, students, clients and colleagues who are supporting my healing in myriad ways.
My thoughts of gratitude were pierced by the scream of a siren as an ambulance roared by, and I was reminded of the dualities and constant change that govern our existence as human beings: peace and conflict; sickness and health; love and hatred; anger and compassion; birth and death; tragedy and unutterable happiness; fear and freedom; grief and joy. The profound question of how we respond to these dualities and exist within them has occupied human minds and much religious thought for millennia.
As many of us celebrate year-end holidays with great joy, for many others grief paints the season with a dark brush and makes it difficult to join in the festivities. Although we most often think of grief in association with the death of a loved one, it visits in many forms: compromised health, broken relationships, loss of friendship, imperiled livelihood, inability to engage in meaningful activities, betrayal by a trusted colleague or friend.
In recent weeks I have heard comments such as:
I don’t know how I will make it through the holidays and dark days of winter after the death of my son. Grief permeates every aspect of my life.
Managing my daughter’s illness is all-encompassing, exhausting. I grieve for her suffering, for all that we have lost as a family.
I’ve not only lost my job, but my profession and my career.
My pet taught me the meaning of unconditional love—a kind of love that is not common in human beings. I am devastated by her death.
My family is fractured. I don’t know what the holidays will look like for us this year.
I don’t know anyone who hasn’t been touched by grief in some form. Feelings of loss are often intensified during the holidays and in the dark days of winter. This may be especially true in our Seattle-area climate. Counseling, faith communities, family and friends can bring comfort, mitigate feelings of loss and facilitate healing. Sometimes, however, a deeply buried kernel of grief remains locked in the very depth of one’s being, permeating every cell, resistant to healing. Reiki can reach this deep, often hidden place.
In the words of some of my clients:
Years ago I was the caregiver for my husband, then my son, and later one of my daughters as each of them was dying of cancer. I am now over 80 years old. I have buried my grief all of these years; I never allowed myself to grieve any of them. I was afraid that doing so would destroy me. Your Reiki session helped me, finally, to release my grief. I feel lighter, as if I have been unburdened, as if a heavy weight has lifted from my heart.
Losing my husband of 60 years and then immediately having to pack to move to a smaller place left me feeling broken up, as if I were going haywire in all directions at once. After the Reiki treatment I slept for hours, more restfully than I had in weeks. I didn’t realize that I needed a Reiki treatment. It wouldn’t have occurred to me to seek out such a thing, but I realize now that I needed it very badly. You gave me back myself. Thank you, Marianne.
You will never know what your Reiki treatment meant to me. My 21-year-old daughter was killed in a motorcycle accident while she was on her honeymoon in France. I am 86 years old, and I have never stopped grieving for her. After the session with you, I feel as if my heart has been eased. I feel more at peace than I have at any time since her death. Thank you.
Reiki is appropriate at any stage of the grieving process, whether one’s grief is achingly fresh or has been buried for a long time. Reiki is not a substitute for medical or psychological treatment, but rather complements and supports counseling, support groups, and other healing modalities. If you are experiencing grief, or know someone who is, allow Reiki to ease the burden.
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© 2017 Marianne Streich, Reiki for Living. All rights reserved. For reposting permission, contact Marianne.
Marianne is a Seattle-Area Reiki Master Teacher and Practitioner. She is the author of Reiki, A Guide for the Practice of Levels I and II and a former editor, contributor, and columnist for Reiki News Magazine (2004-2010). See her current class schedule.