My Reiki journey formally began ten years ago with a chance meeting with Reiki Master Christine Brown at a birthday party for a family member. Once introduced, Christine and I found ourselves lost in conversation about yoga, energy healing, and life in general. I felt comfortable with her and appreciated the knowledge of Reiki and energy healing she imparted that day.

Within a few months, I had scheduled my Reiki I training with her, starting me on a path of self-discovery and healing.

However I must start this journey at the very beginning, well before I ever heard the word Reiki.

Throughout my early life, I was intrinsically drawn to science and esoteric studies. My fascination with the natural world can be credited to my parents. I was lucky to spend weekends of the spring and autumn in Lake George, New York, capering through the woods and delighting in the fresh waters of the ponds and little creek that ran through piney acres…

Memories of childhood: Poetry of the land

I knew a pond once, whose elegant simplicity was not lost on my youthful intellect. Even as young as five or six, I cherished the time I spent outdoors, and especially those days during which I ran without a care through the woods and waters of the Adirondacks. 

The pond of which I speak is nestled in the heart of a campground in the southern Adirondacks, just south of Lake George. My parents, who had been camping for years, regularly resided at Lake George RV Park on weekends throughout the spring and fall. It was here that my enchantment with the woods began.

 The days and nights spent in Lake George were filled with magic and wonder, from the gentle rain of the spring to the full assault of a summer thunderstorm, to the cool, crisp winds of the fall that would make cyclones of the crisp, jewel-toned leaves. The pond was always a source of contemplation, even for children. It was called First Pond by us "regulars" due to the fact that there were (and still are) two ponds, First Pond and Second Pond, respectively. Both small, yet both beautiful in their own right. First Pond was always my favorite. I felt as if I were a part of the landscape, not merely an observer. Second Pond was not for wading in... Unlike its counterpart, its depth was dark and murky, but wonderful for fishing and watching the three resident white geese honk at passersby. 

The sunlight at any time of the year would sparkle the surface of First Pond with radiant light, almost too bright to directly look at. Its depths were clear, and many a time I’d walk a good 30-40 feet from shore, the water never reaching higher than my thighs. The bottom was sand and silt with some vegetation, more so toward its center. All told, the pond was only about a ½ mile in circumference, but that was enough. The pond sat lower in elevation than the surrounding land on 3 sides (the north, east, and south), and it delighted my senses even as a child. To just sit at its banks and watch the ducks with their young in the spring, when the eastern shoreline was blackened by the myriad of tadpoles in residence. It was a full assault on your senses. The bullfrogs hiding in the cattails could be heard at a distance, and a gentle breeze would ripple the calm water.

As you approach First Pond from the north on the paved bike path, you can either follow the path south down the east side of the pond or turn right and walk the north face of the pond. About twenty-five or so feet from the turn, there was a small sandy bank extending approximately 20-30 feet from the shoreline, depending on the water level. This is where most of my time at the pond was spent. It was here that we would catch frogs and tadpoles with nets if we had them, with our hands if not. Some grass grew on the sandy bank, but not much; that sandbank was well-trodden by us younglings. Hours could be spent skipping stones or catching frogs, always to be let go back into their home. 

The woods, surrounding the ponds, were a place of enchantment, which any dark wood can be, especially in the Adirondacks where the pines almost kiss the sky and the cathedral-like vastness of the ground could offer a child hours of fascination. Even in my youth, I could be found sitting and just listening, watching Mother Nature’s majesty unfold before me: nature in full splendor. In the spring, new life would abound and everything would be fresh, sweet-smelling, and radiant. As summer moved in, the woods would offer a welcome refuge from the hot sun, and the pond, its cooling waters. 

The light that dappled through the trees created a kaleidoscope effect on the woodland floor as the leaves were stirred by the breeze. What faeries capered beneath the lofty boughs, what Kings and Queens held court in the banquet hall of the pines? The woods fed my senses; the waters fed my soul.
                                                                                                    KMS 2012

* Currently searching for my parents photo albums of my days spent in the ADKs

As Above So Below

These profound experiences opened my eyes to the captivating mystery and profound beauty of the natural world. Similarly, my fascination with the cosmos and its breathtaking tapestry of nebulae, galaxies, and unfathomable distances was nurtured by my father. Witnessing the passage of Halley’s Comet in 1986 was a stroke of luck – at just 9 years old, I treasured the moments spent peering through my telescope with my dad during the late hours of the night, watching the comet’s tail lengthen as it drew closer to the sun, its ice melting and gases streaming out behind it: a lone voyager on a cosmic journey.

Exploring the collapse and resilience of Nature

Through these lessons in observation, I gained a profound understanding of the universe’s interconnectedness at a young age. My father imparted knowledge about the impact of DDT, explaining how it caused the collapse of the food chain for decades. He even provided me with a copy of Silent Spring by Rachel Carson, which left me horrified at the extent of the devastation. The repercussions were far-reaching, leading to the demise of not only weeds, but also the small animals consuming the contaminated grasses, creating a chain reaction of death. This pesticide’s effects were so widespread that bald eagles were endangered during my youth, and the once common sights of hawks and owls became rare.

Remarkably, the recovery of flora and fauna from the aftermath of this single pesticide has taken nearly 60 years. Today, I am heartened to witness the return of bald eagles nesting near my home along the Mohawk River, a sign of nature’s resilience.

This enlightenment about how a single deed can create everlasting ripples transformed my outlook on life. My actions have an impact on those around me. My emotions, my words, all reverberate out into the boundless universe, creating their own unseen effects.

Interconnectedness

My journey with Reiki and the natural world has been a profound odyssey of self-discovery and interconnectedness. From the enchanting woods of the Adirondacks to the cosmic wonders witnessed with my father, each experience has shaped my understanding of life’s intricate tapestry. The lessons learned from the resilience of nature and the interconnectedness of the universe have instilled in me a deep reverence for the profound impact of our actions. As I continue on this enlightening path, I am reminded of the enduring ripple effect of our deeds, resonating throughout the vast expanse of existence, weaving a narrative of interconnectedness and harmony.

I invite you to explore the interconnectedness of being with “Suchness” an essay or dive into the Suchness Guided Meditation available on Insight Timer for premium members and now as a bonus episode on Spotify for a limited time!