The Poetry of
Jack Scott


Dec 15

Hon sha ze sho nen

Tom Rigler was my best teacher, not just of Reiki per se, but of other energy practices as well. He knew more and had been doing it longer than any of the others. He was a self-described energy junkie; no energy modality was too esoteric for him to learn and practice. I came across him through a weekend course in crystals he taught that was recommended by another Reiki practitioner. The first thing you noticed about his apartment was his enormous collection of crystals of all kinds, primarily quartz: his library was equally impressive.

There were about seven other students, some of whom I knew. The course made such a strong impression on me on me that I called him Monday and asked if he would teach me. He said yes, he would, and after a few sessions agreed to take me on as his apprentice. I asked him to teach me everything that he knew and he said he would take me as far as I wanted to go. I was the first to be extended that privilege. As it worked out I met with him one-on-one for an hour or more three times a month and a fourth time in a small class consisting of four women and myself.

One evening the exercise was about distant healing, for which Hon Sha Ze Sho Nen is the symbol, a Japanese kanji used to connect with spirit and the higher self as well as send Reiki at a distance. At this time I had already been attuned as a Reiki Master teacher, but my purpose of training with Tom was to improve my abilities as well as to learn new ones. I had had experience using this form of the Reiki energy.
Our specific exercise was to do distant healing on Buddha, and on Jesus. The format was that each student would perform the assignment then describe their subjective observations and we would all discuss it.

When came my turn I closed my eyes and held my hands in front of me, palms facing outward. Immediately, I saw a three dimensional image of Buddha; he was greenish white with red shadings. Facing me, he was positioned the same way, arms outstretched, open palms toward me. I did my usual warm up rituals and then began sending Reiki to him. I could see the energy going out from my right hand only. He received it with his left hand and sent it back from his right hand. And so it went from my right hand to his left, from his right hand to my left more and more rapidly, like the fastest game of ping pong imaginable. Not only did it grow more rapid, but the energy increased as we volleyed back and forth. I don’t know how long this went on, whether seconds or minutes, but the intensity of it wore me out; I had to stop. I no longer could keep up with him or the energy or the combination. The benevolent smile never left his face; he looked the whole time as if he wasn’t breaking a sweat. On the other hand, I came out of it crying my eyes out. It wasn’t that I felt I had lost a contest, but more that I had been confronted with more energy than I could handle at a speed I couldn’t keep up with; it unnerved me emotionally and exhausted me physically. I described it to my classmates, who were somewhat accustomed to my seeing things they didn’t.

When I had composed myself, I began to heal Jesus distantly. I was a Roman soldier standing on a low hilltop. Across the slight valley on the next hill were three crosses, with men nailed to them: crucifixions. My duty was crowd control, to maintain order; however, the crowds had largely dispersed this evening. Perhaps the novelty of this public execution had worn off by the third day.

For some reason, my attention was drawn to the central figure. I couldn’t quite make out his face, but there was a mystifying attraction that grew stronger the longer I stared. Suddenly I had risen slightly above the ground. I slowly began to float above the valley toward the middle cross. Nearing him I could see a look of terrible suffering on his face, and total exhaustion. We were face to face when the levitation gradually lessened and I was standing on the ground at the foot of the cross. The cross began to totter and topple, making a cracking sound as if it were a tree being felled. I ran back swiftly to get out of its way. It crashed on the ground, but was no longer a cross; it was a giant sunflower. I went to it, took one seed and walked away.

I came out of this experience crying as well. We discussed it, but although I had an emotional sense of it I could not convey meaning to the others; I could only describe what I had seen in both instances. These were like poems: to be felt, understood, perhaps, but impossible to explain.

®Copyright 2014 Jack Scott. All rights reserved.