Before I ever knew the word Reiki, I knew the feeling.
When my grandmother was sick, when my mother was exhausted, when my father carried the weight of responsibility, or when my aunt was nearing the end of her life, I would sit quietly and send them thoughts of healing. I did not know whether energy could travel across space. I did not know if intention truly made a difference. I only knew that I loved them deeply, and that love needed somewhere to go. So I let it move through silent wishes for their comfort and peace. In doing so, I felt calm. I felt connected. I felt that, in some small but meaningful way, I was helping.
Years later, in a community college classroom, a teacher I deeply admired introduced me to Reiki, a Japanese healing practice based on the understanding that a universal life force energy flows through all living beings. When this energy is balanced, we feel well, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. When it becomes depleted or blocked, we may feel stressed or unwell. Reiki practitioners use gentle touch, or focused intention, to support the body’s natural ability to restore balance. It is not forceful. It is not dramatic. It is subtle, compassionate, and deeply rooted in presence.
Learning about Reiki did not feel like discovering something new. It felt like remembering something ancient within myself. It gave language to what I had already been practicing quietly as a child. The simple act of sending love with intention.
As I moved from Reiki I to Reiki II, my awareness deepened. I became more attuned to subtle shifts both in others and within myself. Over time, I began to recognize something that had always been there: empathy. A natural sensitivity. An ability to sense what others carry beneath the surface. Reiki did not create that part of me; it helped me understand it. It taught me that empathy is a gift, one that is most powerful when held with steadiness, presence, and clear boundaries. In other words, Reiki refined my empathy into compassion with boundaries.
Recently, I have found renewed joy in offering Reiki to elders, in an assisted living community with my teacher. Sitting beside them, holding space, placing my hands gently with care, it brings me back to those early moments of quiet prayer for my family.
Working with elders is especially meaningful. They carry stories, grief, wisdom, loneliness, and resilience. Offering Reiki in that space is not only about energy. It is about dignity. It is about human connection. Sometimes healing is not about fixing anything. Sometimes it is about reminding someone that they are seen, that they matter, that they are not alone.
Reiki, to me, is more than a practice. It is a way of being in the world. It teaches that healing does not have to be loud to be powerful. Sometimes it is soft. Sometimes it is quiet. Sometimes it is simply love, allowed to move with intention. Looking back, I see that Reiki did not enter my life by accident. It found me because I was already walking its path guided by love, empathy, and a quiet belief in something greater than myself.
And it continues to stay with me, gently and steadily.
RidewithTia 