My mom, my godmother, and my aunts live in Belgium. They are four women in their 80s, and I call them the Golden Girls. My Godmother is Blanche Dubois, still flirting at 83. One aunt is Betty White, and my mom is the cranky one. They are adorable...for a few hours. But spending eight days together was… let’s say… instructive?

Seeing myself reflected in my mom (just 40 years later) was between hilarious and terrifying. Although she has her soft moments, she could be defined as a cross between General Franco, a Jack Russell, and a bulldozer.

Meditation helped… to a point. Crankiness seemed to be contagious, no matter how much I breathed. Anytime I got cranky, my mom laughed. “You see,” she pointed out, “this meditation thing is not working!”

Needless to say, meditation for my Golden Girls is the equivalent of GMO veggies for us.

But sitting with my feelings worked. Just not in the usual blissful stereotyped way. Beyond the fact that we all survived my visit without major drama, sitting with my anger, frustration, or panic opened my eyes to new parts of myself.

It also pushed me to make friends with my fear of aging and decide what some of the things I don’t want to lose are. Among them, my curiosity, my sense of humor, and my spiritual practice.

I came back from my trip exhausted, but a clearer, more centered person.

When I teach, the first thing I have to battle is the concept that meditation or Reiki practice will make life perfectly smooth. That there will be no more fear, anger, stress, or frustration. When in reality, they are tools to listen to the lessons and insights these feelings have to offer. Tools to help us feel compassionate and grateful more often than bitter and resentful. 

Reiki is not magic, but it does feel like it sometimes.