Leggo my ego

An insightful reader stimulated discussion and prompted me to clarify and expand upon my previous post. The enlightened reader suggested that when he meditates, he is disinterested in his usual thoughts. He indicated that thoughts are the ego, intruding and distracting. Yes, I believe this is so. 


If one does as he suggests, and engages in uninterest then the Reiki should flow appropriately. That's why I go into a meditative state when I share Reiki energy; and I advocate that for others. I might see images or visions, and I let them flow. I might try to remember them so I can examine and write about them. I like to look for patterns. But this is my own amusement. 


If the Reiki practitioner focuses on his/her own visions, thoughts, or advice, for the purpose of instructing the client, then the ego is taking over. Instead, the practitioner should support the client finding and following his/her own path. Listen to and support the client. 


During a session: just do Reiki. Uninvite your ego. Relax, focus on the symbols, and place your hands. Check to be sure your client is comfortable. Share Reiki. Assess your client's comfort again; check your hand placement. Observe subtle changes in your own patterns. Listen, breathe, assess, repeat. Reiki! 

Reiki and ego

Are you the High Priestess of Reiki? Do you do things no one else can do, tell clients secrets no one else knows? Maybe you have special powers.

Or maybe you have professional boundary issues.

Huh?

Do you hang out with your clients? Develop social relationships with them? Maybe you're popular. Or maybe you have boundary issues.

Are you there to listen, support, and facilitate health? Or are you there because you need to be needed: your clients make you feel powerful and special. Who does most of the talking during the Reiki session: you or your client? Do you interrupt your client to share your visions and messages, or do you listen to the client describe images and impressions?

A professional boundary: that's the line between a helping relationship and a co-dependent one.

Is your practice about your ego or your client's health? Please be careful. Examine your practice. Make 2012 a time to improve your therapeutic skills. Go back to school. Study therapeutic communication techniques and professional ethics.

Use silence. Listen, and reflect back what you hear from your clients. Support their interpretations of their own visions: their individual journeys.

Reiki practice stimulates spiritual growth in the energy of love and light. Ethical and competent Reiki practice between a practitioner and a client should be a therapeutic relationship, where the practitioner helps the client achieve optimal health. It's about helping a person realize his or her own powerful potential.

Let's lighten up in 2012.

Happy New Year!

2012. What's up?

Will the Earth ascend to the 5th dimension? Or will it fry, drown, and blow away with climate changes? Or both... Will people open up, become enlightened, remember and reintegrate their whole selves; will they become more connected? Or will people hoard, fight, and commit violent acts?

I have hope and faith. I believe there will be big wonderful changes. Wishing you love and light in 2012.

cave breathing

... helps me relax. When I start doing Reiki, I often take a couple of cave breaths. Do you?

I open the back of my throat and breathe like Darth Vader. Helps to empty my mind. 

it's what's for dinner

Really, isn't food the most boring topic? Don't you hate to hear people list off what they will and won't eat? I do.

Pics on the other hand. I like pics of food. I like see what you're having for dinner.

That said, be prepared to be bored, or simply click away right now. Because I feel compelled to explain. Why? Partly the looks I get, the reaction to my meals and my cooking, and partly because it does seem to be a topic that interests people. Here goes.

I like nuts, seeds, berries, roots, fruits, tofu, tempeh, and all kinds of beans. Breakfast is oatmeal, eggs, blueberries, or yoghurt with walnuts and maple syrup. Lunch and dinner is beans and brassicas. I like dark chocolate, black coffee, green tea, and red wine. I try to eat local, organic, and raw. Perfectly normal, right?

So why do my coworkers stare at my lunch, grimace, and say, "What's that?" And why isn't there a word for that thing they do: they make a face like they're about to hurl.

What's that?   "Cabbage," I respond.

"Raw cabbage?" in disbelief.

"Yes," I respond slowly and clearly. "Like coleslaw."

"But where's the mayonnaise?" in continued disbelief and nausea.

"No mayonnaise. Cabbage with raspberry vinegar, chia and sunflower seeds, dried cranberries, walnuts, and avocado."

"Chia seeds?"

You see how it goes? So many explanations. It's easier to eat at my desk and answer emails than to face the questions and disgust in the lunch room. And frankly, their lunches disgust me too. Bony pieces of meat, processed microwaved mush, leftovers microwaved in plastic, or stinky greasy fast food.

There, either you read all the way through or clicked off ages ago in boredom, disgust, or nausea. Yeah, should have simply posted a pic of what's for dinner. Care for a falafel ball?

cold in Maine

December 29 and it's cold.

Forecast: windchill of twenty below tonight. Just checked handy online temp conversion: -20F degrees is -28C. Either way: cold.

We had three big snowstorms here, and all three melted away in abnormal warmth. We had rain two nights ago. This is odd weather for Maine in December. Usually we get a snowstorm in late Nov or early Dec, and that snow stays til April.

My sons (and one girlfriend) are in Portland, Maine tonight. I hope they stay inside, stay put, stay warm, and stay safe. 

winter break 2011

... is going by way too fast. I had big plans to write a scholarly article, join a local gym, and paint my bathroom.

Instead I spent time with family: ostensibly resting and relaxing; but actually shopping, wrapping, driving, cooking, serving, cleaning, and facilitating the happiness of others. I answered work emails daily, went in to work three days, and traveled other days. I haven't spent a full day at home the whole time.

I learned some new board games: Apples to Apples and Catan. I read The Descendants (SO good), and started Major Pettigrew's Last Stand (excellent). Changed oil in car, washed car, saw a few friends, and checked on my assisted living facility.

So I've kept busy and connected. But no article, no gym, and my bathroom remains baby boy blue. 

Reiki stance, Reiki dance

Yesterday during our Reiki afternoon at the outpatient center, I watched the four other practitioners. I watched how they sat or stood, where they placed their hands, and how they moved.

One stood at the client's head. Her eyes were closed and sometimes her lips moved slightly, as though she was reciting something.

Another practitioner stood across from me. Her eyes were closed too. Sometimes her hips swayed side to side, in a Reiki dance, to music only she could hear.

I took a wide stance, to lower myself a bit. I tensed and relaxed my muscles and stretched my neck to my shoulders. When I thought of the symbols my face spontaneously lifted to the sky: Sun and stars.

The other two practitioners demonstrated slow, gentle, and deliberate movements.

When it was time to change hand positions, we made eye contact, smiled, and readjusted. I noticed that at beginning and end, several made Gassho motions.

That's it for the Reiki stance, Reiki dance. Someday I'll write about Reiki breath. 

Reiki hands

I worked with four Reiki practitioners yesterday. We spent the afternoon sharing Reiki energy with clients at an outpatient center.

One practitioner was a relatively new Level 1. As we walked out into the cold evening wind, she stared at her hands in wonder and told me that she could feel the symbols in her hands.  She said she started to feel them after her attunement.

I thought about how my hands pulse with energy when I share Reiki. I thought about the rush of heat that blossoms along my spine. I thought about how people tell me that my hands burn, palpable through jeans and sweaters.

Reiki hands. 

lights

Some people walk a long ways with you. Some people run for a short time. Some people light up your path momentarily. 

Reiki

What could be more rewarding? It's my favorite part of my life. I feel immense gratitude when I get to share Reiki energy.

It's a time to relax, give, and meditate on health and possibility. It heals you and me. We meet, share a moment of connection and agape, and say goodbye.

Reiki. I'm here for you. I will witness your struggles, your pain, and your persistence. You are fighting cancer. You got yourself here and you open yourself to the possibility of insight. Thank you and best wishes. 

One word: plastics

Dude in The Graduate, "Just one word: plastics."

Revolutionary word, amazing product of my youth. Made of oil. Now there's way too much of it. It's in my clothes, food, and furniture. It's in our oceans and soil. We package everything in plastic. It blows through city alleys and along country roads. It swirls in a giant vortex in the Pacific. Too much plastic.

new practitioners

Experienced Reiki this afternoon.

I worked with 3 new practitioners and 3 clients; demonstrating the paperwork and process for the new practitioners. The practitioners are awesome: experienced, compassionate, humble, and intelligent. Beautiful souls, full of gratitude and dedicated to service to others. The clients were awesome also, brave beautiful souls.

The clients relaxed as we gathered around and placed our hands. Pretty sure I heard some snores. From the table, not the practitioners. I felt my heart open and ironically imagined rainbows, unicorns, and glitter pouring out. Candy canes too. It amused me to imagine this. I felt pulsations in my hands as I held them over elbows and knees.

Afterwards it was all hugs and smiles. Reiki. What could be better?

hopes for 2012

Despite horrific stories in the news, weather anomalies, and economic difficulties...
despite blinding sunlight changing to flat cold white light today,
despite misunderstandings, unmoorings, excessive solitude, and monotony...

I have hopes for 2012.

I hope to love, learn, laugh, and serve. I hope for long stretches of contentment and moments of joy. I hope for peace, health, prosperity, and enlightenment for all living beings.

I think that following the Reiki principles is a good way to get there. So here they are, as rewritten by a group of my Reiki students.

Just for today, forgive.
Just for today, have faith.
Honor your parents, teachers, and elders.
Earn your living honestly, in a way that benefits others.
Respect and be grateful for all living beings, and all things have life: people, animals, plants, rocks, and planets. Everything.

faux- Pucci

Went to Reny's and bought several pairs of suave magnifiers. That's right, reading glasses. They're bright Pucci-like colors and patterns. I can see! Hey, who're you calling old?

Sugarloaf, games

Best part of the family vacation: the games. We played board games: talked, told stories, and laughed.

We played Apples, Spoons, Cranium, and Catan. Yeah, we sat on soft couches in front of the fireplace, drank beer, and played games. Fun times. 

Sugarloaf, the condo

Inside, the condo is three stories. 

The living room has a cathedral ceiling, three stories high. I'm sitting on the couch, in front of the fireplace. There are bookshelves full of literature and trashy novels, a TV, tables and lamps, and posters of Swiss ski slopes.

The kitchen has everything you need: the usual dishes and appliances. There's a deck off the kitchen. From there you can watch the newbies on the bunny slope.

Sitting here I can see into the kitchen and the second and third floors. There are two bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor, and steep steps, a ladder really, to the third floor. There are three twin beds tucked into a gable on the third floor. A triangular window is cut into the wall there; to allow light, heat, and smiling faces to poke through. 

Sugarloaf, the community

It's one of the older condos, well-lived in, well-loved.

Right beside the bunny slope; we can see chairlifts, the big hotel, and the main lodge. We can look uphill and see the trails, cut into the forest. We can see lots of condos, tucked into the pines.
It's a fun community. You drive to your condo and then you leave your car. Now you walk, ride, and ski everywhere you need to go. We can walk a few feet, then ski to a lift. We can ski right to the door of the condo. We can walk to shops, bars, and restaurants. We can walk around the neighborhood, admiring the homes and condos, the pond and pump station that supply some of the snow guns.

Sugarloaf, Pizza

So the dog and I walked around Sugarloaf village. I marveled at the engineering. A stream ran through the village: bound by boulders, cement walls, and culverts. Small bridges arced over the stream and restaurant windows jutted over it. Chairlifts everywhere, wide rivers of white tracked down the mountain, and shuttle buses looped from parking lots to ticket windows.

I heard laughter and shouts overhead. "Look! A dog!" some children shouted.

The children. There were hordes of them, all dressed in shiny colorful pants and jackets, helmets, boots, and iridescent goggles. They came up the slope on a trailer bench, towed by a snowmobile. They whizzed down, instructors shouting, "Pizza! Pizza! Make your pizza!"

Pizza, that means point your ski tips together, digging in the inner edges. That slows you down. That's the beginner's stance. 

Sugarloaf

We spent Christmas at a ski slope: Sugarloaf in Carrabassett Valley, Maine. I found the place on VBRO.com
- and emailed the owner. Easy.

Myrtle, my GPS, brought me right to the condo. It was dark, so I had no idea where we were in relation to the slopes. Morning came; it always does. I could see 2 chairlifts out the window, and some buildings. People dressed in bright colored puffy suits floated past our windows, heads sheathed in plastic, boards dangling from their feet. People whizzed past the deck, laughing.

A small ravine, with a stream at the bottom, separated us from the slope. I walked out the door and up the hill a few feet and found a wooden bridge across the ravine. I stepped onto the ski slope and watched people cruise by. I looked up the mountain. Snow guns blasted clouds of vapor and trails striped up to the top where the sun blazed through the arctic air. Floating metal benches hustled skiers and riders up up and up. 

kale

Greens. So good, so good for you.

Kale, bok choy, spinach, beet greens. I like them sauteed with garlic and olive oil. I grow my greens or buy them at the farmer's market: local, organic.

My son drinks kale juice. I went to a juice bar with him. "I go every day after work," he told me.

We walked in. An attractive young woman offered me a taste of "Ocean Breeze." I figured the attractive young women were what pulled my son into the shop. Ocean Breeze was a frothy orange sip of mango and coconut. Sublime.

He ordered kale and ginger juice with a side of wheat grass. One of the attractive young women stuffed kale and hunks of ginger into a blender. The concoction was brown and lumpy. Oh, really? "Try it," he offered. Let's just say it wasn't Ocean Breeze. This is the son who ate only ramen and cereal as a child. Then she put a chunk of grass into the blender. She handed him a shot glass of green liquid grass. I tried that too. Also not Ocean Breeze.

Kale juice. My son drinks kale juice. 

serenity

I saw a friend in the grocery store yesterday. When she saw me she gasped and smiled. She said, "Oh good! I need me some serenity. Give me some!" She reached out her hands.

Then we compared groceries. She had kale, I had bok choy. I had smoked salmon, she said, "Oh I forgot the smoked trout." I had an assortment pack of local beer. "Oh, my husband would love that," she said.

My sons are coming. I bought grapefruit, bagels and cream cheese, and coffee. I'm going to make a stir-fry with  the bok choy, garlic, tofu, cauliflower, and carrots. I took a day off from work to get ready for Christmas. I walked with the dog, picked up a couple of last minute presents, walked with the dog again, shopped for groceries, and wrapped the last things. It was 50 degrees and sunny. I did some yoga and some Reiki. I enjoyed every moment.

Now it's cold and snowing: a white Christmas. 

2012

It's kind of a crazy world these days with freakish weather, protesters rising and dictators falling, tsunami wreckage washing up on Washington beaches, seals dead of avian flu, and world economies failing. A fraction of the 1% hold most of the money and power. Many people are struggling to survive.

Scientists have created a deadly form of the avian flu. What were they thinking? Methane bubbles are effervescing from melting polar ice-hastening global warming. Global storms. There's a young mother dying of cancer, days before Christmas. There's another mother grieving for her lost son, drinking too much, and wondering how she's going to survive the pain and weight of her grief. It's raining in Maine at the end of December. Pansies are blooming; it's 50 degrees. Crazy changing world.

Almost 2012. What will happen? Will there be a grand transmutation of our world? Maybe people will wake up and remember, maybe they will see more clearly. Maybe it's not too late to save Earth and her inhabitants.

Me, I still hope. I hope and believe in the power of love, light, and laughter. Reiki energy is part of that power. I share Reiki with anyone who wants it, anyone who asks. I love to teach Reiki to others and to share with other practitioners. I practice self-Reiki daily. I'm hoping the power of Reiki will calm and uplift our energies in 2012.

If Reiki isn't for you, then do something similar. Meditate, pray, do yoga, dance, or climb a mountain. Hang out with best friends and family: people who make you laugh. Volunteer, donate, give back, be an activist. Make a difference in 2012.

Monster High

Ever heard of it? I hadn't. I needed Christmas presents for my niece. Really she's my 1st-cousin-once-removed, but it's just easier to call her my niece.

She's 8 and lives in New York City. Sue, at work, told me about Monster High. Sue's granddaughter is 8 and lives in Maine. "Their hands come off," Sue told me.

So I looked. I found, bought, and wrapped.

She ripped open and shrieked with delight. "Monster High!"

We spent the evening assembling and dressing monsters. Not just hands; their heads, arms, and legs come off. Hair too. Their parts are interchangeable. They have trendy clothes: glitter, mini-skirts, and way high heels. They have impossibly long thin limbs and glossy black tresses with pink streaks. They also have fangs and fins. Other than that, they're like Barbies.

I filled a Christmas stocking with a Charlie Brown's Christmas DVD, goldfish crackers, and candy. Oh, I got her a shiny pink wig too, sequined gloves, and patent leather heels. She loved it all, and I loved her excitement. 

lobster omelet

Christmas shopping

Went Christmas shopping today. Well, not really shopping. More like Christmas walking.

My cousin and her daughter came to visit. They live in New York City, and came to Maine for the weekend. Last night we ate popcorn and opened Christmas presents. We had a slumber party. This morning we drove to Portland and had breakfast at Micah's restaurant.

It was sunny and cold. No wind. Temps in the low 20s: cold.

Micah is a cook in a restaurant in a beautiful hotel in the Old Port in Portland. I had a lobster omelet (3 claws and cheese), my cousin had bacon & eggs, and her daughter had chocolate chip pancakes with real maple syrup. She had hot chocolate too, while my cousin and I drank lots of hot coffee. We left a huge tip.

We got Fluff out of the car (warm with sunshine) and walked around the Old Port, looking in shop windows. We didn't buy anything. Then it was time for them to leave. We hugged and cried. They headed back to the city. Fluff and I walked more. We looked at yachts, wrapped in plastic for the winter. We saw seagulls. There were lots of shoppers. Women wore tight jeans, knee-high boots, and puffy jackets. Men wore jeans, sneakers, and puffy jackets. We walked.

I got cold so we started for home. I wanted to walk more, so I detoured to the Maine Mall. There, I wandered through crowds, glancing at merchandise. Sweaters, jewelry, boots, iPads, cameras, shoes, candy, and coffee. I saw Bob Marley, the comedian, selling and signing CDs. I saw teenage girls looking at cell phones.I saw gangs of teenage boys, still wearing those low pants. I didn't buy anything, I just walked.

Going up the escalator in Macy's, my hands started to tingle. Reiki. My body flushed with heat. Reiki? Why here? Why now?

I looked at towels, coffee makers, crystal goblets, dishes, forks, knives, and spoons. I looked around for someone who needed Reiki. Everywhere, preoccupied Christmas shoppers. Everywhere, people with lists in their heads: lists of people and things.

Then I thought of the dog in the cold. Retraced my steps, found the car. Again, the sun had warmed the interior of the car. Back on the turnpike; back home. 

congratulations, graduates

Went to a graduation ceremony tonight, in a church on a hill in the city. Drove on dark streets past homes covered with gleaming Christmas lights, and a tree adorned with Christmas balls the size of those exercise balls you see in the gym. The ones you sit on.

Thin wooden cutout angels hung from the church ceiling; big ones, like 10 feet tall. There was a tree, covered with angels: doll angels, paper angels, and feathered angels. The ceiling and windows were cut at odd angles. I didn't see a cross or bloody crucified Jesus anywhere. There was another Christmas tree in the common room, covered with tiny colored lights. The kitchen was worn and well-stocked with utensils and dishes: a friendly meeting place.

The graduates were dressed in white. Each woman carried a red long-stem rose. The men wore rose boutonnieres. There were speeches and archaic rituals. People prayed and wept. Then it was over and we drove home on dark rainy streets. 

six pack

of good books.

Looking for that perfect gift for the reader who loves science, romance, mystery, and fear? Here ya go: Mark LaFlamme.   Check out his six pack: Box of Lies (my fav), Asterisk (love this one), Vegetation (you like plants? they like you?), The Pink Room (you'll melt at this combo romance and quantum physics), Dirt (what?), and his latest, Delirium Tremens (started it, got scared, will try again; I dare you to read it).

LaFlamme is good and keeps getting better. His images will stick in your eyeballs, plots will twist around in your brain, and his characters will linger in your heart.

Where to start? You could go chronologically, yeah. I rec you start with my fav, the box. BOL a holiday treat for your mind and soul. 

olive oil and parmesan cheese

make anything edible.

Air-popped popcorn, rice cakes, pasta, or steamed cauliflower: all become edibly delish with the addition of olive oil and parm. The dog loves it too. She stands in front of me with her big brown eyes, mindmelding, intuiting, telepathing her wish to share.

Olive oil. Last check of my lipids was rosy. The good fat (HDL) was high and the bad (LDL) was low. Popeye was right. 

electric blanket

Love it. Love to stretch out, toes warm. But I wake up cold, blanket off.

Does it turn itself off after 10 hours? Or if it overheats? Maybe my hot flashes overpower it: short circuit. Or my hawtness. Or perhaps I turn it off in my sleep. It's a mystery.

you may be a winner....

... and I am!

We had a contest at work. We decorated our office doors for Christmas. My office mate said, "Let's go all out, over the top, to the max, and win this thing!"

I said, "Yeah," with equal parts wan enthusiasm and fervent reservation. I reached for my wallet. "Here's $10, go for it!"

"Oh, I don't need your money, I have tons of decorations at home," she replied.

We're also doing Secret Santa at work. We pick names and buy modest gifts for each other. We reveal ourselves at the Christmas party. My Secret Santa gave me a small fuzzy Christmas stocking full of chocolate. Great! I ate the chocolate and taped the stocking to our door. Then my Secret Santa gave me a Santa pin. I poked it onto the sock. For extra festiveness I dug into a desk drawer and found a candy cane from last Christmas. I stuck it into the sock. The sock fell off the door and the candy cane broke. I taped it back together.

My office mate never got around to decorating our door. Hey, we're busy. We work all week and weekends too. We work from 6 or 7 am til dark. She just didn't get to it.

Voting Day arrived. The students had ballots and were instructed to wander the halls and judge our doors. There were two categories: Most Festive (creative and cheery!) and Charlie Brown (pitiful and pathetic, but hey, you tried).

On our door was the small stocking with the Santa pin and broken candy cane.

I joked that in our great American political tradition I would stand in my doorway passing out dollar bills and asking for their votes. Or I would stuff the ballot box. Or I would pass out candy and beg for votes. In the end I did nothing.

Other doors had lights, posters, family photos, grinning Santas, fiberoptic trees, and blinking snowflakes.

Oh yeah, we won the Charlie Brown award. Prize: a bag of microwave popcorn. Woo hoo!

Merry Christmas: Lucy, Linus, Charlie Brown, Shroeder, PigPen, and Snoopy :o)

tire

Left rear.

Yesterday was a long day, started early and finished late. So I zipped home at lunch to let the dog out. Spent two glorious minutes in the sun and fresh air while Fluff ambled around the yard. Got out of my car back at work and there was a car behind me. Older couple, window down, the man yelled across his wife, "Your tire is slack."

"Thank you so much," I called back. I looked. Yes, left rear. It bubbled down to the pavement.

I stopped at my office to shed my coat and grab a box of cookies. Chocolate espresso, from the Farmer's Market. Dark crunchy chocolate. Mike's office: Mike, Dana, and Denise.

"Trade you these cookies for help with my tire," I offered to the three of them.

"Open your car door...." Dana started to tell me, then wilted. She was sick, and on her way home. "Count me out," said Denise, slurping a creamy iced coffee. I turned to Mike, fearing he would say, "Fix your own tire." He said something like that. Panic rose. Seems like I used to put air in my bicycle tires when I was a kid. That was a long time ago. I knew the general concept, of course, tires need air. But the details, the exact process...unknown.

Mike saw my panic. "Come on," he said, grabbing his coat.

We drove to the gas station around the corner. $1.00 for air. A dollar? You have to pay for air? I didn't remember that from my childhood. "I have quarters!" I informed Mike. I looked on my car door, as Dana said. "36 PSI," I said.

He was determined to teach me, and make me do it myself. "Take the cap off, put that on there, and the gauge will pop out."

I was scared the tire would explode, but I did it. The gauge didn't pop out. "It's broken." Mike grabbed the air hose from my hand and applied it himself. He put in some air, then laid down the hose and stepped back to look at the right rear, comparing. He added more air. Then more. Suddenly the gauge popped out. 20.

"Look at that! It was so low it didn't even register," Mike said. He added more air, got it up to 30. "You've either got a nail in your tire or the valve is broken," he said. We went back to work, but Mike wouldn't take the cookies.

I drove home after work, worried the tire would explode. This morning it looked low. I called my tire guy and made an appointment for Saturday morning. I worked all day and Mike walked out to look at the tire after work. "It's a nail," he said. "I see it, right there."

I got down on the ground and I saw it too. I drove to the local tire place. It looked deserted. Was it open? It was. The guy was friendly. "That's a bad place to keep your nails!" he said.

"Can you fix it today?" I asked.

"Well, we can't do it right now," he said slowly... "but we can do it in 10 minutes," he grinned. Badaboom.

I sat in the waiting room with the day's newspaper and a TV blaring entertainment news. It took about half an hour and cost $25. Fixed! Cancelled my Saturday appointment. Nothing exploded. Ready for adventures.

60

Sixty degrees.

The thermostat, 60: that's where it's at. I'm trying to spend less on oil. More on electricity, I guess, because I bought an electric blanket. If I can get into a warm bed, then I can keep the thermostat down. What about EMFs? I scorned electric blankets back in the day, when I had other ways to warm my bed. EMFs can cause cancer, right? Or have there been dramatic developments in the field of electric blankets?

All I know is, my house is cold. My bed is warm. 

Reiki: neXt gen

Amazing how something unexpected can renew your faith and hope.

I spent the evening with teens. Some were ill, some had lost a parent, and some had a parent with an illness. So what? All were teens. All were vibrant, beautiful, and curious.

They seemed restless, so we did some yoga. Tree. Not all could. Chair yoga is fine, or modified.

Turned out the lights. We meditated. They sprawled on the floor and conked out. I told them it was Ok to giggle. So they didn't. They found comfortable positions and didn't move.

Then self-Reiki. Mitten hands, not glove. One stayed in her curled up meditation position. One opted out; pulled out phone and texted. That's OK. Everyone else placed hands over eyes, ears, jaw, throat, chest, belly, and legs.

Last. Shared Reiki. First they paired up, hands on backs. Then they spontaneously made lines of 3 or 4 and did group Reiki. I went around and added to the energy. Amazing, the heat they were putting out.

It was quiet and peaceful. The ventilation system kicked in and they gasped. That's how quiet it was.

Thank you, teen group.