“Hello!”
“Great!”
“Yes, yes, yes!”
But, even as I’m smiling, nodding and speaking positively, there’s a struggle within me. Something I don’t like is bubbling up.

Oh, it’s anxiety. What now?

We come into this world needing love and support, and our family and community provide a measure of this – enough, we hope, to see us to adulthood. As we grow, we try out different behaviours, only some of which are endorsed by others. There is both positive and negative reinforcement, such as the giving or withholding of love.

Who do we become from this conditioning? Who do we become, after 20, 30, 50, 60 years of sharing our lives with people who, like us, have opinions of who we should be? What is it that allows us to discard the hand-me-downs, and build a genuine, authentic life?

As we grow up, we’re gaining skills and fostering attributes based on a vision of what is good. Much of our training may be unchosen, such as learning to read as a child; still, there is always an underlying if unstated assumption of why the training is important: what the training will offer; what doors it will open.

It’s possible to go very far into something on the basis of a received understanding of the value of that skill to our life. Acquired skills which are imbued with validity by our community, will likely be viewed as personally significant. The mind will associate the ability to perform the task with a sense of self-worth.
 
Because of our conditioning, how and what we do is a major part of how we value ourselves. If we lose our job, we may feel useless. If we lose our relationship, we may feel unloveable. If we can’t do or get whatever it is we’ve set up as “what makes my life count”, we will face a barrage of self-judgements. Our vision of life and its actuality are at odds, and that can lead to confusion and stress.

Sometimes this disjuncture also leads us to question our vision. If we undergo a disillusionment with the script we having been working off, we may grasp for a new version into which all our energy can be thrown.

But whose vision is this? What’s its basis? Does it interest us to give consideration to the origins of our life’s meaning?

My experience is that, through deepening my awareness of the present moment, I touch a foundation that is fulfilling, healing and true. Nothing else compares to it, and actually, there is nothing else that I can be aware of: the present moment is the only time that I have.

And when I get in touch with the present moment through the five senses, my relationship with the world and its scripts shifts. I move from a state of craving connection, to one of being the connection. For some, this in itself may be the purpose of their life; for others, the clarity of the present moment will bring into focus what needs to happen next. It may simply be watering the garden, or making a meal. One step at a time is fine.

Whatever it is that we take as our life’s work, when we come home to the present moment, the scripts and stories that we usually run off are seen in the light of a fuller experience. Thoughts are useful and important, but we also need the nourishment of letting the mind be. Then we can really appreciate, for instance, watching a starling build its nest, or feeling the rise and fall of our abdomen as we breathe. Nature is healing, and that same naturalness is us, too. It comes into its own when we open our senses to what is happening. No manipulation is necessary.

I began this blog post with being nice, being pleasant, being agreeable – but feeling anxious. So what’s the connection between that, and the practice of the present moment?

When we’re present, we face the actuality of our emotions. These may not be “agreeable” feelings, from the point of view of our minds. And if we judge them to be disagreeable, what next? Is it possible to just let them be, without making a demand, or needing to manipulate? Is it possible that, if we allow our emotions to be themselves (without harmfully acting them out), they may run their course? Is it possible that the most unbearable part of anger, fear, embarrassment etc is not the feeling itself, but the aggression and compression of avoiding it, or the regret of acting it out?

For myself, I believe that it is extremely important to practice non-violent action. I don’t want to hurt anyone with my anger, including myself. I don’t want to poison my experiences with blind obedience to anxiety or greed. But if I’m to develop a healthy relationship with these emotions, I need to be willing to get to know them very, very well. My feelings can be medicine, rather than poison, if I develop the awareness to know them intimately.

And taking difficult emotions from this point of view – that they need to be known – it’s clear that the arising of anger, embarrassment, greed, anxiety etc, is an opportunity. The more aware we are of our feelings, the more conscious and supportive our actions will be.

And when I do know the difficult feelings intimately, then I can occupy my whole body. That is way more powerful, way more satisfying, way more compelling, than putting on a show of the emotion which has been taught to me as “right”. When I’m in touch with what’s happening within, only then can I really meet you, and see you clearly. And in that moment, you can meet the real me, too.

As I mentioned, it comes down to developing the aspiration and doing the work. There are different models for this. Reiki offers one path of discovery.

As my aspiration deepens, the moment to moment choice of what is best shifts naturally. What used to seem horribly complicated, or terribly risky, now seems clear. I don't know everything, and that's fine. As important and seductive as old perspectives once were, it feels wonderful to let them go, and just do what really calls to me. There's so much nourishment and learning in that.

• • •

A young professional arrives for a Reiki session. She is smartly dressed, and strides down the hall to introduce herself.
“I’m here to see what Reiki is like, and if it has anything to offer me,” says Kaye. “I’ve never had Reiki before.”
I show her into the clinic room and ask her to take a seat opposite mine. I pour glasses of water.
“I want a friend to meet me here afterwards,” Kaye says, checking her phone to see if there is any progress on arranging this. “Oh, she can’t make it. Never mind.”
She drops the phone into her bag and collapses back in the chair.
Watching her movement, I get the sense of someone who is feeling quite wound up; and for myself, I feel uncertain and defensive.
A good thing to do when this happens is to get in touch with my purpose.
I say to Kaye, “Before we go any further, let’s take a minute to sit here and relax. Then I’ll ask you about your motivation for coming along.”
Kaye agrees. She says she will take the time to meditate.
“Great.”
I lower my gaze and bring my awareness to my abdomen.
What’s going on with me? I am experiencing a sense of inadequacy. I’ve made a judgement of Kaye’s confidence, and I’ve been thinking, “I’m not a go-getter. She’s not going to relate to me.” I’ve been triggered into a reactive state, and have lost touch with my centre.
Isn’t it great to recognise when this is happening?
I think to myself, I'm here to offer something real. Can this work? And I answer, Yes, once I’m grounded.
After a minute of sitting together in silence, my breath slows down and I feel calm. I ask Kaye how she is feeling.
“Much better, thanks. I was a bit hyper when I arrived.”
“What brings you along today?” I ask.
Speaking quietly, she tells me that she suffers from anxiety. She’s recently been in Chiang Mai, and received healing treatments which helped her feel calmer. However, after two weeks back home, and with her usual lifestyle, the anxiety has returned. She is having trouble sleeping at night.
“I thought Reiki could be good for this. What do you think?”
I now feel present to this person and to myself.
I also have a sense that there’s something about the perception of inadequacy I noticed in myself which contains a clue to what Kaye (and the rest of us) are dealing with.
I explain what a Reiki treatment involves, but I go a bit further.
“Coming to a Reiki practitioner, it’s ultimately not about receiving a treatment. I suspect that, for you, it may not even be about getting rid of your anxiety. It's about being in touch with ourselves.
“We have this wonderful life (regardless of what we say about it), and yet we live in a culture that tells us we need something other than that: better looks, more education, a certain image, popularity, wealth etc. Our media often points us to a bliss or happiness which is outside. They are usually doing that to sell stuff, not to edify us. And our friends and family go the same way – they're often in the same head space. Have external solutions ever lived up to their promise of deep contentment? Even when they're momentarily satisfying, we have to accept that no emotion is final.
“Though we are programmed in many ways not to trust ourselves, when we touch our actual experience, we’ll find the basis for real confidence. If we’re willing to be open to what’s happening internally, it won’t even depend on whether we’re anxious or not. Then the choices we make can come from a place of balance, rather than out of fear or craving. Reiki is one way of getting in touch with that balance.
“Does that make sense?”
Kaye nods. There's a new quality in her eyes: a combination of humility and fire. It’s a powerful thing to see somebody recognise the importance of their life.

• • •

This short work of Reiki fiction is a response to the question of finding our deeper intention.

We all have external tasks to accomplish, like Kaye the young professional. But we are busy in another way too: making a show of our togetherness, our intelligence, our confidence, our fashion, our goodness — because we judge ourselves and others inadequate. We may start to experience side-effects from this way of thinking, and seek solutions to those, rather than to the essential cause of imbalance.

As my own Reiki teacher has pointed out, the client’s underlying search is for something more than the alleviation of symptoms. Each of us is yearning to be in touch with our life.

In a hands-on Reiki treatment, we’re being invited to connect with our life: with things as they are. That will reveal to us what our real needs are.

Surrender brings forth the energy of the Reiki session. Surrender means returning to our true home, reality. When the practitioner is operating in the present moment, the client is given the space to connect with his or her own truth. Consciously and physically, they gain perspective and inspiration on why they’re here and what they need.

Copyright Geoff Moore, December 2015

Connection is what the body does when the cells share their resources, and when the lungs feed the heart with oxygen. Our tissues and organ systems are endowed with absolute generosity towards the good of the whole.
Yet, as personalities, we build up a sense of separation which reconditions how the body works. Reiki is a practice to overcome harmful separations. It offers instead the essence of what it is to give, receive and share. Through it, the body and mind relearn the truth of our inherent generosity.

Separation
Since conception, our energy is conditioned to flow well in some ways and not others. The flow lessens because we do not wish to feel something or accept something; perhaps something has been poorly modelled for us, so we don't practice it. At times we are ashamed in some way, and shut down part of ourselves – perhaps suppressing our vital energy as we demand that we be something other than what we feel. We all have known times when we have not been appreciated, and in response we often choose to dislike ourselves, or to protect ourselves in some other way. Through such responses, the heart becomes estranged. It's ability to discern, inspire and lead is undermined. We become less conscious of ourselves and of our birthright to love and be loved.

In other words, we create a separation in order to avoid pain, and in doing so, disinherit ourselves from life's greatest gift. A certain quality of protectiveness and stinginess characterises our experience of life.

But an important aspect of separation is this: despite its powerful consequences, it's not ultimately true. The same applies to our lack of awareness. Ultimately, the awareness is there, available and complete. It's a matter of developing the motivation to invite it out.

Words catalyse healing
How do we invite our awareness forth? In a Reiki session, the practitioner works with the recipient to develop their trust in inhabiting their whole self, feeling their whole self. Reiki is primarily a hands-on therapy, but practitioners may also use speech to open clients’ awareness. In my experience, words that come from a place of authenticity and conviction have an incredible power. That power includes a flow of energy in the physical body.

"You have a good heart"
Among everything that my school teachers said to me over the years, I have returned again and again to the words of my Form Two teacher.
"Geoff, your honesty is admirable, and in time will win you many good friends."
This was a message I received on an assignment called "Me, Myself and I", written when I was 12 years old. I have carried those words since then, because they were such food for my soul.
As a young adult, another teacher told me this: "You have a good heart." What an audacious statement to make within the context of our education system. I could scarcely acknowledge her words at the time, but over the years I kept returning to them, and being challenged to live a life that accorded with that truth.

Aren't we all inspired to hear that we have a good heart – even if we may also notice a knee-jerk reaction of skepticism, embarrassment or “yes, but…”? I believe that our whole body earnestly wants such truths to be brought forth.

When we hear true words, a seed within our consciousness is watered and given light. The body and mind then begin working, connecting, finding ways to bring that truth into resonance with the whole. In a Reiki session, such authentic speech arises naturally.

Having received such words, whoever we are, we can remind ourselves of their truth, and we can practice the qualities which bring that truth into relationship with the entirety of our life. Those around us will reflect back to us what we express, and so our connection with our "good heart" deepens. We're learning to trust the experience of love.

Hands-on healing
In the same way that words can give life and energy to parts of us that need it, the Reiki practitioner shares his or her awareness to connect with the body in those parts where the sense of separation is greatest. Touch awareness is very effective for developing the flow of energy. The parts of us that have been impaired are led to find their receptiveness, their voice, their belonging, and their rightful role. In time, they too learn to trust the experience of love.

Seeing more
For the one receiving a treatment, waking up to the flow of energy opens us to more clarity about the work that remains to be done. We see more of the potential for further connection, with ourselves and with everything.

What an inspiring process this is – both to appreciate the beauty of our life, and to deeply yearn to share that with the world.

This complete sharing is the most natural way of being, and is itself joy, love, surrender and healing.