Beginner’s Mind at 73
And Reiki at a Farm Animal Sanctuary
I walk through this farm gate with a beginner’s mind.
It’s been nine years since I was last here. I’m 73 now, and the landscape of my life looks quite different than it did nine years back. Then, as now, I planned to offer Reiki to these rescued farm animals. The sanctuary is Animal Place, situated in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada’s in Grass Valley, California, and home to hundreds of animals, including cows, donkeys, sheep, goats, chickens, turkeys, and rabbits.
I leaned against the pasture rail, closed my eyes, and let the warm breeze and the mist from the sprinkler delight my skin.
I came here with Beginner’s Mind today to experience everything as new, without judgment or expectation. What has changed for me in the years between visits is more grief, more joy. That’s life after my husband’s stroke two years ago and caregiving seems to have mellowed my Reiki practice. Less determination (HEAL, damn you), and more acceptance and letting healing take place in its own time. I can’t make the animals accept Reiki, any more than I can make my husband accept it, and that’s something I am finally ready to accept.
Reiki is a gentle, noninvasive, holistic energy healing system that yields powerful results for body, mind, and spirit. It is a wonderful healing tool for calming an animal’s anxiety and fear, as well as easing the transition at the end of life.
What is beginner’s mind? It is a release of our expectations and preconceived ideas, and seeing things with an open mind, fresh eyes, just like a beginner. Rachel Carson, the great naturalist, once said: “A child’s world is fresh and new and beautiful—full of wonder and excitement.” I think a beginner’s mind is like that. We want to observe and accept.
And I think the animals feel this acceptance. The sheep pushes her head into my hands for scratches, affection, and treats. Reiki flows while I bury my fingers in her lanolin-slick wool. She seems a bit disappointed at the lack of treats, though.
A large brown cow swings her head in my direction as I stroll past her pasture. She has a small bird riding shotgun on her back. She swings her head again and resumes her business with her symbiotic partner. She’s not interested in me.
I came to offer Reiki, yes, but I did not come as a healer.
I came as a Witness.
A Student.
A Beginner.
Each animal shows me what they want and don’t want. No pressure—I breathe, I soften, and I wait. Some who knew only abuse from human hands are wary, and that’s fine. I’m here to offer comfort and confidence, and I hope, with time, they’ll learn to accept human touch.
Each animal shows me what they want and don’t want. No pressure—I breathe, I soften, and I wait. Some who knew only abuse from human hands are wary, and that’s fine. I’m here to offer comfort and confidence, and I hope, with time, they’ll learn to accept human touch.
The hush here, even as the donkeys bray and the chickens sing to their eggs, enters my bones. The sun-warmed red earth, the scent of hay and manure tell me I’m right where I need to be. I sit and listen and place my hands between the animals and myself. Reiki flows easily.
At this time in my life, I can admit: I don’t know. I don’t know how close or far I am from my horizon. The last hurrah. The big D. I don’t know what comes next in my life. Nor do I know, right now in this barn, why some animals come close and others turn away.
Healing may never be visible, but we can feel it, like the sun on our arms and the sprinkler mist on our skin. Some might say that 73 years is in the last chapter—a life wrap-up. But I think it’s a settling into life’s lessons and experiences. A return to learning and sharing with no expectations, save that of accepting myself for all I am now.
And the animals in their wisdom accept me as I am.
