Reiki Back to Consciousness

Thump! The noise propelled me out of my desk chair – that was a bird hitting the door, for sure. I’d watched with awe as the hummingbirds hummingbird-14516794437tkperformed their dazzling aerobatics around my front porch that summer: whizzing past the bushes, between the feeders, around the columns, diving at each other in an ongoing competition to claim the territory. I was keeping my front door closed so they wouldn’t think the glass storm door was an open portal, but evidently one hadn’t gotten the message…

I scanned the porch floor until I found him out cold under a chair – he must have bounced off the glass with some force, poor baby. Carefully I knelt and slipped my hand under his little body – and found, thanks be, that his neck was unbroken and his little heart was still fluttering and his chest was rising and falling with his breathing, though his eyes were closed.

I began flowing Reiki to the iridescent little being lying cupped in my hand, trying to remember which of the wildlife rehab shelters would be open early on a Sunday morning. Inner guidance was urging me to go slowly, that he might simply be stunned, and that Reiki might be enough. I sat on the porch swing, cradling him and flowing Reiki, visualizing him surrounded by a circle of light. I don’t know how long we sat there – time lost meaning – but I began, finally, to feel him moving. I looked down: his eyes were open and he was beginning to struggle toward sitting up. Holding my hand flat to help him balance, I kept the flow of Reiki steady as he found his footing and perched, wobbly, on my finger. “It’s OK, baby, there’s no rush,” I whispered, projecting feelings of relaxation and calm. We sat there together, slipping once again into Reiki meditation.

Finally, I felt his little feet moving purposefully toward my fingertips. Holding my hand up, I reached out over the porch rail and watched as he launched himself into the air, darting up, hovering for a moment, then flitting straight over to the feeder for a long drink.

“Be careful, Small One,” I told him as he soared away.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.