Starting and Ending My Day With Reiki: Why Daily Practice Matters
- Fr. Mark Colville
- Feb 5
- 3 min read

Every morning when I wake up, before I check my phone or even stretch my body, I begin with the Reiki precepts. I place my hands together in gassho—palms at my heart, fingers pointing upward—and quietly say the words that guide my entire spiritual path:
Just for today:
I will not be angry.
I will not worry.
I will be grateful.
I will do my work honestly.
I will be kind to every living thing.
Some mornings, I recite them silently. Other times, I say them out loud. It’s not about perfection. Some days, I do feel angry or anxious—but the precepts help me come back to myself. They aren’t rules. They’re reminders. They call me to live from the heart of Reiki, from a place of peace and honesty.
At night, I do the same thing. Before I go to sleep, I return to the precepts. It helps me let go of the day. If something went wrong or if I fell short, I bring it into awareness—not to judge it, but to gently release it. The Reiki precepts help me close the day with grace instead of guilt.
But there’s another part of my daily practice that’s just as important: Hatsurei Hō.
This is a meditation taught in traditional Japanese Reiki. I learned it from the work of Hyakuten Inamoto Sensei and from studying the teachings preserved by Frans Stiene and William Rand. It’s a way to build spiritual strength and deepen the connection to Reiki. In English, it means something like “generating the spirit” or “activating the soul.”
It begins, again, with gassho. I sit quietly and focus on the space where my hands meet. This alone can bring deep peace. Then I breathe into my hara—the center just below the navel—and imagine Reiki light filling my body with each inhale. I breathe out anything heavy or dark. I visualize pure light pouring in and shining through me.
One part of Hatsurei Hō involves brushing the aura with intention—kenyoku. This helps clear energy and bring the mind back to the body. Another part includes silent meditation and, eventually, reciting the precepts again.
The whole practice takes maybe 20 minutes if I go slowly. But even on busy days, I try to sit with it for at least 10. When I practice Hatsurei Hō regularly, I feel more grounded. My hands are warmer when I offer Reiki to others. My heart is softer. I speak slower. I listen better.
Reiki isn’t just something I offer to others—it’s something I live. That’s why daily practice matters.
The precepts aren’t just for Reiki practitioners. They’re for anyone who wants to live with more compassion and less fear. And Hatsurei Hō isn’t just a meditation—it’s a way to return to the divine source, every day, even if just for a few breaths.
It doesn’t require incense or candles or silence. It just takes a willing heart. A few minutes of stillness. A reminder that we are always connected to something greater.
This is how I start and end each day—with Reiki in my breath, the precepts in my heart, and a quiet prayer that I might be a little more kind, a little more honest, and a little more aware than I was yesterday
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