Saturday, February 20, 2016

Reiki class

was in a bright yellow house in the Maine woods. Off the turnpike, down this road then that, curvy hilly roads past houses and churches, down a wrinkled dirt road, there.

The house was built in the 1770s. The living room ceiling was hand-hewn beams and 2-foot wide boards. Maybe 3; they were wide. The floors dipped. There were beautiful things everywhere. Lots of colored glass, plants, shells, and a sleepy cat. There were two horses wandering the fields outside: one white, one brown.

We had Reiki class. Some talking, some hands-on, some breaks for tea and brownies. The sun came out and it was 50 degrees, so we did Reiju outside at the picnic table.

One lady said she saw a white spot on my left shoulder. "That's my guide," I told her. My angel is above, and my grandmother is on my right shoulder.

They felt tingling and pulsations in their hands.

I wore a grey dress with grey tights and socks. I felt like a little Quaker lady teaching my Quaker Reiki: plain and simple. Just plain Reiki. 

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