Empty Hands, Open Heart: Becoming a Reiki Kid in Okinawa

When I first wrote about becoming a kind of “Reiki Kid” in Okinawa, I wasn’t sure anyone really understood what I meant. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I did either. But last month, I had an experience that gave me much more clarity about this “Reiki Kid” character. :)

We all know the 1984 classic The Karate Kid, starring Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita as the beloved character Mr. Miyagi from Okinawa. I hadn’t thought of that movie in years until I found myself, a woman in her late 30s, living in Okinawa and struggling to do laundry (and just about every other household task) “correctly.” I had no idea there was a correct way, but quickly realized that if I wanted to keep living here, I’d have to learn the customs no matter how oppressive or unfair they felt to my American persona.

People often move to NYC to leave behind their pasts to fully individuate. I know I did, and that freedom was deeply healing for me. But moving from there to a traditional culture like Okinawa wasn’t a logical next step and had its fill of challenges. It was like being in a classroom of constant Humilty, which also allowed me to begin to see my conditioning in a whole new light. I could feel the culture teaching me refinement in ways I hadn’t expected. Although it was shocking, uncomfortable, and disorienting to watch my old identities fall away, a choice was made clear: shed these old skins, or go back to what I knew.

It was a defining moment to reflect on the journey it took to finally arrive in Okinawa on my own. Without any command of the language, customs, or even a legal safety net; to keep going meant risk. And to not be swallowed up by a culture that required total surrender, I had to give all my passion and heart over to my core self, and let myself be guided. And if that wasn't enough of a hero's journey already, I had to give myself all the time and space needed to grieve everything and everyone I was leaving behind.

As impossible as that may sound, there was an enticing paradox: the more I gave myself over to the restraint and obedience the culture demanded, the freer I became. It was like dying and being born at once. For example, I had to learn Japanese fast. And as I did, something surprising happened: the southern accent I had buried my whole life began to peep out again when I communicated with my English-speaking clients. It was shocking and also wonderful. I was finally able to relax enough to be shameless.

There were other lessons too. I couldn’t just run to the corner store in sweats and my hair a creative buzz of bedhead. I had to get properly dressed, apply makeup, and present myself with care out of respect for those who may see me. At first it felt oppressive, but slowly I realized it was helping me grow up, not in years, but in self-respect. Piece by piece, the refinement helped me love myself in a new way. A new identity was forming not tied to nationality or culture, but to something deeper, to pure love.

And here’s where Reiki entered the picture. The same focus, swiftness, and softness needed to do daily tasks “correctly” was connecting me more with Reiki too. And Reiki is always teaching us about ourselves. Reiki mastery is never about learning more about something called Reiki; it’s about learning more about who we are, our truth. When I teach, I'm essentially guiding my students to see themselves clearly without all the noise of the world shrouding their inner knowing.

At first, we think of Reiki as something, an energy perhaps, that flows through our hands and into areas we direct it. Later, many years of practice later, there comes a time when our hands become Reiki. This means that Reiki is already there, we don't have to manage it in any way. Our hands will automatically know what to do and will guide us.

So I was being guided to further clear and "empty my hands". This was a slow and gradual process because I had a very fixed and fear-based way of thinking that was strongly developed. So I kept being brazenly scolded for handling things “too hard.” For example, with the dishes I thought I was being careful, yet glasses did crack, teapots lost their lids and handles, even a precious soy sauce dish vanished into the void under my care (possibly tossed out by mistake!) I was seen, and also felt, like an ogre clumsily thumpping around, while everyone else seemed to glide effortlessly and quietly through the air.

There’s a Japanese word, Mu—meaning “nothingness.” It describes that empty, thoughtless state of mind, when we’re simply existing without effort. Here, that concept is common knowledge. And over the years, through trial and error, I began to understand it more and more.

One day, I called a friend in Florida after hanging laundry outside. I told her, overly excited, that as I was hanging the laundry a smile came over my face. The line became so quiet for a moment that I could hear her eyes blinking from some 8,000 miles away. I had clipped each sock, shirt, and towel on the line with just the right spacing for airflow and sun exposure and I did it effortlessly, without thinking, because my hands did all the work. They knew what to do. And I caught myself smiling at my recognition of it. I was beginning to embody those empty hands, and my friend was very supportive! :)

Fast forward to years later, to last month. Out of nowhere one of my cousins asked if I'd like to watch The Karate Kid together. It was too random and uncanny as I was reflecting on our recent Reiki Retreat in Barbados, so as soon as the 80s music and fashion filled the screen, I knew I needed to pay attention. And sure enough that scene where Mr. Miyagi tells Daniel about the empty hands appeared and I thought, "ah yes just like with Reiki!"

The next morning, before giving a Reiki session to one of my students, I felt strongly guided to visit a local park known to have a few shrines. It was sweltering, and I only had about an hour to spare, but I knew I had to go. With little time and no map, I instinctively followed a trail of morning walkers and soon found myself at the entrance of a shrine. To my absolute shock and surprise, it was a shrine dedicated to Karate. I stopped in front of a stone slab erected by the students of a Karate master and read about the kanji for Karate which was “empty hands.”

I felt Reiki moving through me as I stood there. The stone reminded me of Usui Sensei’s memorial stone in Tokyo and I felt a similar feeling there as I did when I visited the memorial stone. I realized that all those countless days of hanging laundry, washing dishes, and overall daily refining had brought me here. The gateway before me seemed to whisper: Keep going. You’ve only just begun.

So, this is what I mean by “Reiki Kid.” “Kid” means student. We are always Reiki students—even when we become Reiki Masters we're still Reiki 1 & 2 students too. Reiki 1 students learn to place their hands and connect with the body. Reiki 2 students practice sending Reiki across distance. And as Reiki Masters we remain beginners while showing how to be held by Reiki.

We are all Reiki Kids, with our empty hands and open hearts.