After weeks of battling anxiety symptoms following a personal loss, Manjit Patel turned to a Japanese Head Spa for comfort, yet it was an unexpected Reiki experience that cured her.
I pride myself on being able to function calmly and clearly in stressful situations. I’m not sure exactly how I do it, but I know this superpower took years of discomfort to form by digging deep into stillness. This month was especially stressful, unpredictable life bombs were exploding all around me, including a big loss. So, I put on my functioning cape and moved steadily through the hours, days, and weeks.
Although the bomb dust had settled and the new landscape was accepted, I felt anxiety brewing in my stomach. The ancient warrior-princess energy I’d been channelling through jiu-jitsu and tai chi wasn’t quite enough to dull the ache of loss. So, because I love a theme, I booked myself in for a Japanese head spa to tick a long overdue me-time box.
My destination was Infinite Healing Energy in St Albans, where the spa treatments and facilities seem intimate and energy focused. Indian head massage, facial massage, chakra balancing were all tempting options but the Japanese Head Spa is something I have never tried. On arrival, Marianne greeted me with a warm hug and instantly sensed my anxiety. I was self conscious of my overdue roots and shameful nail situation, but I needn’t have been. In her space, that all felt irrelevant. The spa itself felt like a haven, and I hadn’t realised how much I needed that sense of safety until I arrived.
We had a gentle chat. I didn’t want to go into too much detail about my anxiety symptoms, I was content just “functioning.” Yet with only a few poised questions, Marianne managed to touch on something deeply significant for me, though I didn’t reveal to her what it was until later.
I took off my superhero cape and slipped into something more spa-appropriate, easing into the rituals of the Japanese Head Spa. Warm oil drops melted down my scalp, water trickled through my hair, and the foam, massage, and steam all played their part beautifully. When Marianne finished the treatment, I honestly didn’t want to get up. Cocooned in warmth under the blanket, I asked if she could offer a few minutes of Reiki, secretly hoping it might soften the edges of the anxiety still bubbling inside.
She accepted with grace and leaned right in. Beginning with crystal positioning and guided breathing, she introduced me to a new practice: Colour Breathing. I’ve done many breathwork sessions before, including Wim Hof’s techniques, but this felt different. Within ten breaths, I was completely relaxed. My inner body seemed to expand double in size as if I’d become a giant swirl of energy and colour. I instinctively clenched the crystals in my palms a little tighter to anchor myself in that awareness and receive all it had to offer.
In that exact moment, something extraordinary happened. An overwhelming feeling of love washed over me. I could visualise it, feel it, and know it all at once. The message within it was clear and direct and true. I’d never experienced anything like it, so it’s strange to say that I recognised it, but I did. It was the love of the recent loss I’d suffered. I wasn’t expecting or yearning for it, yet somehow it answered the very question that had been echoing quietly in my mind since our earlier conversation.
The clarity of that love gave way to a second emotion – immense gratitude. A word I’d never truly had a relationship with before. I’d never practised gratitude through journals or prayers, so the fact that this spontaneous wave of thankfulness emerged from nowhere felt pure and refreshing. In its simplest terms, I was awash with love and soothed with gratitude, matching the rythmn of my breath.
I hadn’t anticipated any of this, not that day, not in my life, and honestly, not even for my personality. It was undeniably real. I found myself quietly smiling, basking in this new emotion, when I felt a small weight emerging and resting on my legs. It had a familiar form and energy and I was reassured and comforted by it. Marianne then sounded a soft twinkling of bells to bring me back. She looked at me, moved, and said gently, “Billie was here.” “I know,” I replied smiling ear to ear. “She was sitting on my legs.”
We both sensed that something rare and sacred had taken place, something words could barely hold. I told Marianne that I felt safe in her space and thanked her for her guidance and care. Nothing felt strange, everything that happened felt natural, tender, and profoundly real. I got up and spoke with Marianne for a while about it all, feeling cleansed and realised my anxiety symptoms had completely lifted.
Three weeks later, that calm remains. The anxiety symptoms of loss hasn’t returned. In its place, I’ve been left with reassurance of love and of gratitude, for which I am eternally thankful.
Words written on a photograph of my dog two weeks prior to that Reiki session, during a prayer morning, now make perfect sense. They read:
“Goodbye my family, till next lifetime. With love + gratitude, your Billie.”
