There’s a phrase I encountered very early in my Reiki training that has stayed with me over the years:
“Reiki can do no harm.”
At the time, I understood this as reassurance. A reminder that Reiki itself is not forceful, invasive, or manipulative in nature. That the energy is intelligent. Loving. Rooted in something beyond personal will.
And even now, I believe there is truth in that.
But over time, I’ve also come to feel that this statement is incomplete, because while the energy itself may not be harmful, human beings absolutely can be.
An ungrounded practitioner can cause harm.
An untrained practitioner can cause harm.
A practitioner lacking discernment, ethics, humility, or emotional maturity can cause harm.
Not necessarily because Reiki itself is harmful, but because no modality exists independently from the person channeling it.
This distinction feels important.
I’ve occasionally come across conversations online where people describe leaving energy work sessions feeling deeply unsettled for weeks or even months afterward. Sometimes these experiences are interpreted through dramatic spiritual language involving attachments, energetic interference, or entities. Personally, I try to approach those claims carefully and thoughtfully rather than jumping immediately into fear-based conclusions.
At the same time, I also don’t believe it serves anyone to dismiss difficult experiences simply because “Reiki can do no harm.”
People can absolutely feel destabilized after sessions for many reasons:
Not every uncomfortable experience is evidence of spiritual attack.
But not every Reiki session is automatically safe simply because it carries the name “Reiki,” either.
And I think that nuance matters.
Over the years, I’ve come to feel that one of the clearest signs of a grounded practitioner is not certainty, but humility.
A willingness to remain within scope.
A willingness to avoid inflated claims.
A willingness to prioritize a client’s autonomy rather than positioning themselves as spiritually special or uniquely powerful.
A willingness to acknowledge that sacred work still requires ethics, discernment, accountability, and care.
No modality removes us from the responsibility of being human.
A hammer is designed to build something beautiful or functional.
It can also wound someone deeply depending on whose hands it is placed in.
The same can be said for many forms of healing work.
For me, maturity in spiritual practice isn’t about believing unquestioningly that harm is impossible. It’s about learning how to hold reverence and discernment together at the same time.