I'm so grateful for Reiki

 

Inca in the herb garden with the catnip

My feline companion Inca, had been suffering bouts of ill health for a while and with a sinking heart I knew that the heart-wrenching day no animal lover ever wants to think of – was soon approaching.

As the days rolled by, I became increasingly grateful that I had been attuned to Reiki. Not only did it help Inca to cope with her illness, but it was also a time of special togetherness, of reflection and introspection. She would lie on my lap while I channelled the energy – purring happily. Occasionally I would move my hands to the areas of her body she specifically wanted treated. Sometimes she would lie fully stretched out on the bed, for over an hour, just absorbing the energy.

The day before her passing I put her in the herb garden, her favourite spot, where she loved to sit amongst the catnip plants. When I went to check on her later, I was surprised to find that she was not there. The gardener said he saw walking at the bottom of the garden, and I got the feeling that she was saying goodbye to all her favourite haunts.

She returned later and I began to feel hopeful as she seemed much better. But my joy was short lived as during the early hours of the morning she called loudly to us from her bed. She seemed to be having seizures. It was terrible to watch, her eyes were huge, and she was breathing heavily; her body was stiff and shaking.

I wrapped her in a towel, gave her some Rescue Remedy and I sat with her in the reclining armchair giving her Reiki. She eventually calmed down and dozed off to sleep. I kept channelling Reiki and asked my Divine Helpers to help her, with whatever she needed at this time for her highest good. I asked Archangel Raphael for his help, and to fill her aura with his green healing light. As the eastern sky ushered in the dawn, I knew this would be Inca’s last hours with me, in her physical form. Tearfully I thanked her for everything, telling her that I loved her and that I released her in Love and Light. I told her we would have to take her to the vet to help her to cross over, and was she ok with that, she said she was. I asked for Reiki to keep flowing to her every minute from then and especially during her transition.

The vet tried her best to comfort us, but it was very difficult, as our tears continued to fall as we said goodbye to her again. I told her that as soon as the vet starts the procedure, she must go quickly to the Light. And she did. She just slipped peacefully away into Spirit. 

When the swallows leave

Easter moon rise and orbs over the herb garden

It’s been said: “that if you have swallows living on your property, you will also have bats.” Whoever penned this saying is absolutely correct, as for the past thirty-three years we’ve lived in the country, we’ve had both.

Currently we have a pair of swallows living in their mud house in our garage. I’ve had to Reiki a couple fledgelings when they’ve fallen from their nest in the past. I’m so accustomed to their presence that I feel an absolute sense of devastation when they leave.

I love watching my feathered friends swoop and dive in the air, catching insects while I have my breakfast on the veranda every morning. I particularly enjoy watching them at dusk, when the whole atmosphere takes on an almost surreal feeling when I sense something vibrant in the air. It’s absolutely weird, how one minute I know I’m watching swallows but when I look closely they’ve shape-shifted into bats, almost right before my eyes. The exact time is never evident when the swallows swoop off to their nest and their wheeling flight overhead is replaced by the bats.

My fascination with swallows goes back to my childhood. Growing up in suburban Bez Valley, my brother used to watch these migrating birds, during our Easter school break, as they congregated on the overhead wires, with much flapping of wings and twittering to each other. We used to pretend that we could interpret what they were saying. Stuff like: “Hi Joe, did you pack your toothbrush?” as each bird arrived and took their place at the end of the line, or “why are you so late?” as the stragglers fought for a perch on the wire. This went on for a while, and there seemed to be some of the birds who were in charge of the whole operation as they kept up a tirade of twittering, perhaps they were giving flight instructions for the long journey ahead.

Eventually they rose in unison, a gigantic swirling mass ascending higher and higher heavenwards.  We would watch them until they became a tiny black dot in the sky, leaving me with a deep sense of sadness. 

Some years later when I began studying French at school, I was amused with a story in my French Manual called “Le depart des Hirondelles” – (the swallow’s departure).

The author gave a vivid description of how the swallows congregated on the overhead wires, telling how some birds got a scolding for being late and how they fought for a place on the wire causing others to loose their place. It was quite funny and certainly left me with a feeling of déjà vu.

Winter is not my favourite season. And the sadness I feel when the swallows leave, heralds the end of wonderful long sunny days and warm nights, and the looming approach of cold, bleak winter days. 

But in April last year the swallow’s leave took on an even deeper meaning of devastation for me. I knew their departure was imminent as they began perching along the power lines, which they usually do a few days before they migrate. 

I’d been nursing my ailing 93 year old mother for the past couple of months and she passed away on the 4^th of April. We knew her time to leave was close, but one is never really prepared for the actual parting and the grief that accompanies it. So it was with what felt like a heavy lump of lead in my chest, that I suddenly remembered the swallows. As soon as I entered the garage, there was no sense of their presence, and I knew they too, had gone. The synchronicity these two occurrences left me wondering if they were linked in any way with the Soul’s departure, as birds are considered messengers of the Spirit World.

Just after dusk an evening or two later  I was outside, obviously having no swallows to watch, so  I watched instead the brilliant Easter moon rise and felt compelled to take  photos. I was so surprised to see a number of orbs in the photos. Considered to be spirit manifestation captured on camera – I knew they’re were messages from Spirit.

A golden orb over the garden path...
a sign from my departed mother

I’m certain the big one in the pathway is from my Mom, I felt it was her way of saying “don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

Of course the swallows returned once more to their little mud home the following October. The seasonal wheel continues to turn and soon it will time for them to follow the sun once more.

Interesting article on orbs here.

Goodbye Beloved Maxi

Maxi 27/11/1994 – 27/12/2010
Good bye dearest Maxi, may your soul fly on wings of love to the Light. We love and miss you. We know you’re at peace now in that beautiful place where love and Light reign supreme. Your spirit lives on and so do all our happy memories of you. Nikki and Mac-Tavish are waiting at the Rainbow Bridge for you. We’ll catch up with the lot of you there one day too.

Maxi’s health had been on a steady decline for a while and after Nikki’s death we noticed a rapid deterioration. When he refused to eat we knew he was also on his way out. Maxi had always loved his food, in fact he’d earned the name of Hoover, as he would go around and check all the other dog’s dishes and hoover up any left-overs. If there weren’t any visible signs of food, he’d still give the dish a couple of licks, with a   just-in-case-I-missed-something, sort of tongue action.

Sending Reiki to my animals had been part of my evening routine for many, years. I’d always asked for healing for their highest good and I knew that the healing energy had supported and helped them to cope with their ageing problems.

I connected with Maxi and sent the usual Reiki and also asked him if he was preparing to cross over. He confirmed that he was getting ready to go, “but just not yet” was the response, I heard in my mind. I asked him if he wanted to go on his own, or would he prefer the help of a vet. I got a sense that he wanted to go on his own, but also if things got too bad then it was ok for the vet to help. I told him that I loved him and that I released him in love and light and that he must go when he was ready. I asked Nikki and Mac-Tavish to meet him when he crossed and they assured me that they would.

He was battling with his legs, but he seemed to be hanging onto life,  reluctant to let go. After all he’d defied death twice in his life before. Maxi was actually my husband Owen’s dog. Owen rescued him from being sent to the SPCA as his previous family were unable to take him with them when they relocated to a “no animals allowed” housing complex. And of course he’d literally stared death in the face when he was bitten by the puff adder.

On the night of December 26, his hind legs collapsed. I did some hands on Reiki and TTouch, which I felt helped to ease the pain that I picked up in my hands. I saw his body visibly relax as the pain seemed to ease. I told him again, that I loved him and  that I released him in love and light.

He was still with us in the morning and we knew it was time to release him. Once again pet angel, Loure, from Paw Print Pet Cremation Services took care of the cremation and return of Maxi’s ashes.

Our grief was overwhelming having lost the last of our golden oldies. Owen in particular was devastated, as he’d formed a strong bond with Maxi during the many hours they’d spent playing ball on the lawn together. I sent Reiki to Owen that night as he slept, as I was worried what the stress could do to his heart and blood pressure.

Reiki is just one of those wonderful healing modalities which can be used to send love and comfort to somebody who needs it at that time.

Mac’s visits from the Other Side

When I was growing up I always knew that animals went to Dog Heaven when they passed and that they, like humans have an immortal soul and continue to live after their life on Earth. I refused to believe that their death was simply the end of their existence.

I really can’t say how I came to this conclusion, but now I know it was something that I intuitively knew, it had always formed part of my psych, lodged somewhere on a sub-conscious level. You probably know the feeling, you know but you don’t know how you know.

I was overjoyed when I discovered that my deceased animal companions came back to visit me, making their visits apparent with a sound or with the enactment of a familiar action, immediately recognizable as their own.

In the months after his passing, Mac-Tavish continued to visit his human and animal family. He announced his arrival in quite an unique manner. There was definitely a deep connection between him and the dove as it would call loudly from the tree outside our bedroom window and then the most beautiful fragrance would fill the air. It appeared to be a mixture of lavender, rosemary and rose geranium. It didn’t matter whether I was in the house or garden, or if it was day or night, when he chose to visit, always accompanied by the herby smell.

I would often sense him at the front gate, a favourite place where he used to lie and wait our return home. I could see his laughing eyes, his smiling mouth, tongue lolling to the side, as he “smiled” a happy-to-see-you-back- home-smile, with his tail wagging furiously. It was amazing, the fragrance was so strong and the vision very vivid, clear confirmation that he was really there.

His other favourite time for coming through was of course when I was cooking. I would hear his claws clicking on the ceramic tiles behind me, just as he used to do. The fragrance would waft through each time and I could still hear his voice in my head, ‘so what’ve got cooking', or 'I want some of that.’

The smell of the herbs continued to waft through the house during the night and in the early hours of the morning as he kept up is visits, often with the dove’s call. Sometimes I’d just be sitting, not doing anything special and he would tickle my nose with his special smell, I’d get a ‘hi, just popping in’ sort of impression.

I realised that Mac felt the need to visit and comfort us with his presence as our hearts were still on the long journey to healing. As time progressed the pain lessened and so did his visits along with his special fragrance, except for an occasional whiff wafting through, just a gently reminder that he was still looking out for us.