I waited sixteen years to get my Reiki 2 certification because I was afraid of healing emotional pain. This isn’t a story about doing everything except healing. It’s a story about looking at the scars and the open wounds. The way we tell ourselves they are too much. How we find someone else to heal them. And when we, finally, ask someone to teach us how to be whole. The answer is never a guide book. The answer is always, what does it mean to be whole.
Two weeks ago it meant communing with my ancestors. Talking to my deceased grandfather in a garden he’s teaching me to grow while he set my heart on fire. Letting it consume my entire body just to see what happens. My grandfather grew the best roses when he was alive and it haunts me I still haven’t picked up a bulb from my grandmother’s grave. He told me it’s okay, so long as I don’t forget how to love. I told him I remember how every time I drink a PBR.
This week it meant seeing my first Reiki client and not being afraid of their emotional wounds. It meant laughing about tight muscles that no one thinks about and what we do to release the tension. It meant swinging from sculptures and healing six dark hearts. It meant baking my way through feelings and telling myself it’s okay to love without commitment. Telling myself it’s okay to meet myself where I am and figure it out as I go.
Most of my favorite places don’t exist anymore. I saw where my old apartment in the city was a month ago and wondered if they also tore down the tire swing. Before I even finished the thought, I started laughing. When I moved into that apartment, we hauled garbage out of the backyard for a month. What we couldn’t haul, we rearranged to make a functional space. We planted grass that never really grew. We hung a tire swing. The minute we left, it all fell apart. We didn’t arrive in a ready-made space. I wondered what happened to the children who lived next door and would jump the fence to swing; if they wondered about me. Mostly I wondered where we’re all going and how we’re getting there.
It’s always home, but it’s never mine. Right? This is the life I keep choosing.
My grandfather wouldn’t like this playlist, but I want to share it. https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4nFKbOoIHbodDXwaYL46RA
I’m accepting Reiki clients. I’ll have a website and all of that soon. Message me!
Visola Wurzer 