In the past few weeks I have met two former healers who are now doing other jobs. They carry the lessons of the healer into their work, but they no longer specifically do healing work. Both of them gave the same reason, as does a third former healer, a good friend: People don’t want to get well.
This may sound absurd, but I have to admit that this is my experience as well, which is one of the reasons I primarily work with four-legged creatures. They accept Reiki healing, no questions asked. They know what they need, and when they’ve had enough, they walk away. The results are often dramatic.
On many occasions, an animal that I am working with has indicated that his or her human is in need of healing. I have been told intimate details of some of these human’s lives. When I have shared these concerns with the human, asked if I can be of assistance, the human invariably says, “Oh, no. I’m fine.” Even when clearly she or he is not. I have witnessed humans accept ownership of illnesses and conditions (“my insomnia,” “my depression,” “my lupus,” “my fibromyalgia”) and seem fearful at the prospect of letting these conditions go.
And so it was a pleasant surprise when a former client (I’ll call her Anne) asked me to assist her with an ongoing health issue. I worked with several of Anne’s animals about five years ago. Anne has recommended my services to others over the years, and she has asked about Reiki for humans, but she had never before requested sessions for herself.
Anne suffers from extremely painful fibromyalgia and is following a nutritional and detoxification protocol that has healed many, many people. (See VitaRoyal.com for more information.) While she is clearly benefiting from the protocol, she felt that she had reached a plateau in her healing journey and wondered if Reiki could help. I shared stories with her—including my own story of pushing past a healing plateau with Reiki after my terrible injury this summer—and she decided to give it a try.
All of the sessions were conducted across distance. The immediate result of the first session was a change in her personal energy. A brilliant woman, whose mind is most often in overdrive, and whose manner can appear rushed and impatient at times, she became calm, almost serene.
This sense of calm not only remained fairly constant; it seemed to deepen with each session. I saw this as hugely significant, but she kindly informed me that calm was not what she was looking for.
And so I explained that for healing to occur on the deep level that she was pursuing, the body had to first be balanced, that it cannot heal in a state of anxiety or stress. This made sense to her, and so she continued with the sessions and experienced steady improvement in her health over several weeks’ time.
Another benefit—this one to her animals—was an unexpected surprise. Five years ago, I had worked with one of her birds, Lovie. Anne had been unhappy because Lovie was unhappy—to the point of biting her. Anne wanted Lovie to be “a better pet.” I explained that I cannot change an animal’s temperament, but that I would speak to Lovie in the hopes that she would tell me what was going on.
Well, did she ever! Lovie was enraged. Stressed and anxious, she angrily said she had no interest in being a “pet,” that she wanted to be free. Anne had explained that her birds were free to leave their cages at all times and had free run of the house, but Lovie impatiently informed me that was not enough; she wanted to live in the wild.
Obviously, it is not possible to release a domestic bird into the wild, and so the issue remained unresolved.
Before Anne’s first session several weeks ago, I told her that if there were any cats in the house, they would probably pile on the bed with her. Cats love Reiki. And so she brought the cat home that lives in her place of business. Sure enough, he jumped up on the bed when the session began. Anne had also placed the birdcage on the bed during the session, so she was lying in the middle with the cat on one side and the birds on the other.
She reported that after the session, the cat—who could be aggressive and hyper—was calm to the point of being cross-eyed. (She said this jokingly, of course.) But an even bigger change was in Lovie. Her hostility stopped. She now sits calmly on Anne’s shoulder without biting Anne’s ear. She is no longer fearful and hyper.
This is not the first time I have seen Reiki calm a human or animal in the room when someone else was receiving treatment. One human reported that after lying next to her dog while her dog received a treatment, she (the human) slept better than she had in months. But the change in Lovie was extraordinary. The change in her behavior was immediate and lasting. I explained to Anne that my sense was that while the Reiki itself surely had an effect on this angry critter, the change in Anne had a powerful effect as well. Her internal calm was calming to Lovie.
Horse people know this. Our horses reflect images of ourselves—our confidence, our doubts and fears, our patience or lack of it, our energy. But we may forget that everyone we come in contact with—four-legged or two-legged—reflects images of ourselves. The energy we project is the energy we get back.
And so the family that heals together . . . well, heals together.
Until next month . . .
P.S. I have begun a Facebook group called Healing is Possible. All are welcome to join to share stories about healing (and they don’t need to be about Reiki). I hope to see you there.
*This column originally appeared in From the Horse’s Mouth in October, 2009.
© 2009 by Pamela Sourelis