Reiki: Energy or Presence? Perhaps Both?

Sep 5

6 min read

Updated: Sep 7

What happens when you place your hands on yourself or another person and simply listen?

Maybe you feel warmth, a tingling, a pulse. Perhaps your hands feel heavy, light, cool, or deeply still. And sometimes, something seems to move, a vibration, a subtle flow. A sensation that travels, gathers, expands, or changes beneath your hands. Or perhaps you feel nothing at all.

If you practice Reiki, you may have wondered what these experiences mean. Is this Reiki energy? Is it the body responding? Is it intuition? Is it attention becoming more refined? Is it something else?

And perhaps the most interesting question is not which one is it? Perhaps it is: what happens when we stop trying to analyze, and simply become present?

When we first learn Reiki, there is often a lot to remember. We wonder where should my hands go. Am I in the right position? Should I move my hands? How long should I stay here? Am I feeling Reiki? Am I doing it correctly?

It is natural. We are learning. However, with practice, something can begin to change, to deepen The questions become quieter. The hands become quieter. And we begin to notice.

This is where Byōkan, a practice found in traditional Reiki teachings, becomes particularly interesting.

Tomita Kaiji, whose work offers a fascinating window into Reiki practice in 1930s Japan, described practices that develop sensitivity through the hands. Rather than simply placing the hands and waiting for something to happen, the practitioner learns to listen through touch. The hands become more than something we use to apply a technique. They become instruments of listening.

We might notice warmth, coolness, tingling, pulsation, density, movement, stillness. We might notice something subtle that is difficult to put into words. And sometimes, we may experience what feels like movement. Energy may seem to move through the hands or the body. A sensation may shift from one area to another. A vibrational wave may rise and fall. Warmth may spread. A pulsing sensation may change rhythm. Something that felt dense may become light. Something active may become still.

These experiences can be part of the richness and mystery of Reiki practice. But the temptation is to immediately interpret them: "This must mean something. The energy is blocked here. I need to move the energy. I know what this person needs."

But there is another possibility: what if noticing is enough?

There is a difference between allowing movement and directing movement.

When we first begin practicing Reiki, we may be tempted to follow every sensation, to move our hands toward it, send energy somewhere, or try to make something happen. But presence invites another possibility.

We can let the movement be. We can listen to the sensation without chasing it. We can notice that what we experience is constantly changing. Perhaps the warmth becomes coolness. The pulsation becomes stillness. The heaviness becomes lightness. The sensation moves somewhere else. Or it disappears altogether. And in that moment, we discover something important: Presence doesn't require the experience to remain the same. It asks us to remain present with the change. This is where Reiki energy and presence begin to meet.

Energy moves. Attention follows. Presence remains. Presence before interpretation

Developing sensitivity through Reiki does not necessarily mean developing the ability to know everything we perceive. In fact, the opposite may be true. The more sensitive we become, the more carefully we may learn to distinguish between what we actually notice, and the story we create about it.

I feel warmth.

That is an observation.

"This leans something is wrong here."

That is an interpretation.

The difference matters. Presence allows us to stay with the first without rushing into the second. We can notice, breathe, listen. stay curious, and allow the experience to remain, for a moment, unexplained. There is a kind of humility in this.

So… is it Reiki energy?

For many Reiki practitioners, the sensations experienced through the hands are understood as an experience of Reiki or Ki. And that understanding can be meaningful. At the same time, our bodies are extraordinarily sensitive. Touch, attention, temperature, circulation, expectation, nervous-system responses, and many other factors can influence what we experience. We don't necessarily have to resolve the mystery. Perhaps Reiki practice gives us permission to remain curious. We can honor the experience without needing to explain every experience. This, to me, is an important part of becoming a mature Reiki practitioner. We don't need certainty in order to be present.

This is why I find Byōkan so valuable. It can be understood not simply as sensing something with the hands, but as cultivating the capacity to notice without immediately interfering.

The hands listen. The mind observes. The body remains grounded. Energy may move. Sensation may change. And we remain present.

Whether we understand what we experience as Reiki, subtle bodily perception, or an interaction between the two, the practice asks something remarkably simple of us:

can we become quiet enough to notice?

This brings us to another aspect of Reiki practice: Byōsen. In traditional Reiki language, Byōsen refers to sensations perceived through the hands that may indicate areas of change or imbalance. Rather than thinking of this only as a method for locating something that needs to be "fixed," I find it useful to consider the progression it invites: first, we pay attention. Through practice, we develop sensitivity. Sensitivity deepens our presence. And from that presence, we respond.

This is quite different from beginning with the assumption that we already know what needs to happen. This shift may seem subtle, but it changes the quality of Reiki practice profoundly.

So perhaps Reiki energy and presence are not competing explanations after all.

Perhaps they are two dimensions of the practice: Reiki gives us something to connect with. Presence teaches us how to be with it.

We might think of Reiki as the current, and presence as our capacity to stay open to the current. The more present we become, the less we need to direct the experience. We don't have to decide what should happen. We don't have to search for signs. We don't have to make healing happen. We can simply become open and available.

Hands resting. Breath moving. Attention steady. Heart open.

This is also why the Reiki Precepts are so important to my understanding of Reiki.

They continually bring us back to the present moment.

Back from yesterday.

Back from tomorrow.

Back from what if?

Back from reactivity.

Back from the need to control.

Back into what is here, right now, as it is.

When we are practicing Byōkan, we may notice the impulse to interpret, judge, anticipate, or act. The Precepts offer another possibility:

Pause. Notice. Return. Stay present. Allow.

In this sense, there is a beautiful relationship between Byōkan and the Precepts. Byōkan develops the sensitivity of the hands. The Precepts develop the capacity to remain present with what we sense. One trains our sensitivity. The other trains our way of being. Together, they support a more embodied form of Reiki practice.

Presence does not mean doing nothing. There can sometimes be a misunderstanding that presence means becoming passive or disengaged. I don't see it that way.

Presence is active attention without unnecessary interference. It is listening deeply.

It is noticing what is happening. It is recognizing when the mind has moved into expectation. It is allowing rather than forcing. It is staying connected while remaining grounded. And perhaps most importantly, presence creates space for the other person to have their own experience. We don't have to decide what someone needs. We don't have to take responsibility for their healing. We can offer Reiki, our attention, and our care, and allow the experience to unfold.

For me, this is where Reiki begins to move beyond technique. We start by learning what to do. Then we learn to notice. Then we learn to listen. And eventually, perhaps, we discover that the deepest practice isn't about what our hands are doing at all. It is about who we are while our hands are there.

Are we hurried?

Are we trying to achieve something?

Are we looking for confirmation?

Are we trying to fix?

Or are we here?

Grounded.

Open.

Curious.

Compassionate.

Present.

This is the movement I call healing presence, not in separating Reiki energy and presence, but in discovering how deeply they can meet.

And perhaps, ultimately, we don't have to know. There is something beautiful about leaving a little room for mystery. We can learn the history. We can study the practices. We can develop sensitivity. We can observe our experiences carefully. And still say: I don't have to know exactly what this is to be fully present with it. Perhaps that is part of the wisdom of Reiki.