Bar and I are now officially Reiki practitioners. Having trained for Level II. We’ll begin tomorrow with Mr. Boy watched over by Reiki master Cindi Barnette and move on to five more through July. But I may start distant sessions next week using a teddy bear as a surrogate.
Bar’s tuxedo cat Checkers has a respiratory problem (he was rescued from a forest fire) that means when he sneezes it’s often violent and throws snot all over the place. Lately he’s been subdued on that score, almost as if my Reiki eyes (Reiki at a distance of a few feet) were helping him. Hope so.
That’s what the attendants and conductors were on our train trip to Oklahoma City and back again. They kept threatening to put us off in nowhere if they caught us without masks and they frequently walked the aisles in coach to see if they could catch anyone. But that’s government railroad for you. Doesn’t matter that we are vaccinated. The rules are the rules. Stupid.
Bar has this app that records our sleep on her iPhone. Getting lots of coughing and snoring from both of us and talk from me.
The latest talk was a knockout we’re still puzzling: Me saying “My Wren,” followed by a Wren calling and afterwards me saying “My Wren” again. It was the call that was the knockout. It was loud, sounding on the recording as if the Wren was in the bedroom with us. But it wasn’t. And it didn’t sound as if it was outside, either. Weird.
Took only seconds to clear pain in Bar’s hip (the left, feminine one) the other night and her lower back, right on the root chakra. Self-practice of Reiki helps, I think, storing up the energy in me.