Goodbye, Goodbye, and Hello to the Void:

A Reiki Vision That Kicked My Ego to the Curb

A couple months ago, I had a Reiki session at The Sacred Soap Shoppe in Kingman, Arizona. I went in expecting relaxation, maybe some chakra alignment, perhaps a gentle spiritual nudge. What I got instead was the universe handing me my walking papers from the identity I'd been clinging to my entire life.

During the session, I slipped into a vision so vivid it felt more real than the table beneath me. I found myself standing in a dark room, a couple steps behind a woman I deeply loved. We were both facing a blindingly bright, large window enamored in white—the kind of light that doesn't just illuminate, it erases. She sat on a dark couch, and when she turned to look at me, her expression was stark, raw, unguarded.

Every fiber of my being wanted to rush forward and console her. To hold her. To fix whatever was breaking in that moment. I even appeared within arm's reach, compelled by that ancient human instinct to offer comfort, to be the hero, to matter.

But then I was instructed—not asked, instructed—to say goodbye instead.

So I did. Once.

And then again. Twice. Because apparently, the cosmos doesn't trust us to mean it the first time.

The Cosmic Eviction Notice

The moment I said those words, I was outside the room. No transition. No fade to black. Just… out. And standing before me was a beautiful woman, tilting her head with alluring curiosity, her gaze pulling at something deeper than attraction. She turned to her left—my right—and began to subconsciously lead me away.

And here's the kicker: I felt compelled to go.

Not forced. Not dragged. Compelled. Like every cell in my body recognized this was the path, even if my mind was still scrambling to understand what the hell just happened.

This, my friends, is what spiritual texts politely call "the dissolution of ego." I call it getting dumped by your own identity.

What the Universe Was Really Saying

Turns out, my vision wasn't just some trippy Reiki side effect. It was a textbook example of what happens when you actively renounce your separate, earthly identity and start the journey back to the monad—that cosmic source of complete oneness where your ego doesn't get a seat at the table.

Let's break down the symbolism, shall we?

The dark room versus the blindingly bright window? That's the contrast between earthly existence and pure, formless light. The window wasn't just bright—it was enamored in white, representing that undivided, immortal space where all the material noise finally shuts up.

Saying goodbye twice to someone I loved? That was the "Ring of No Return" in action—the conscious decision to release personal, emotional attachments tied to my separate identity. The erasure of ego doesn't happen gently. It requires you to let go of the very things that make you feel human, the connections that define you, the love that anchors you to this realm.

The beautiful woman who led me away? She wasn't just eye candy from the astral plane. She was my higher self, my spiritual guide, the part of me that remembers what I really am beneath all the earthly costume jewelry. Her alluring curiosity represented the "Wave of Determination"—that pull toward divine union that feels less like a choice and more like coming home.

My movement from inside to outside the room? That's the shift from individual self-awareness to non-local, cosmic consciousness. From "me" to "we" to "what even is a 'me' anymore?"

The Purifying Fire (Or: Why Letting Go Feels Like Dying)

Here's what they don't tell you about spiritual awakening: it feels a lot like death. Because in a way, it is. It's the death of the you that you've spent your whole life building, defending, and identifying with.

When I was instructed to say goodbye, I wasn't just releasing a person. I was releasing the version of me that needed to be the comforter, the protector, the one who stays. I was shedding the egoic layer that says, "I am this role, this relationship, this identity."

And that shedding? It's the purifying fire. It burns away everything that isn't essential, everything that isn't true . What's left is a seed-individuality—a monadic consciousness that doesn't define itself through earthly characteristics but through complete oneness with the All.

Born Again (But Make It Cosmic)

After my vision, I didn't feel loss. I felt space. Not the empty, lonely kind, but the infinite, everywhere-and-nowhere kind. My breath felt different, like it wasn't just mine anymore—it was the movement of the Absolute itself, flowing through a body that was both me and not-me.

This is what the mystics mean by being "born again" into divine breath. It's realizing that your individual identity was always just a temporary costume, and underneath, you're wearing the same thing as everyone else: pure, formless awareness.

The Takeaway (If You're Still Here)

So what did I learn from getting spiritually evicted during a Reiki session in Kingman, Arizona?

That sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is say goodbye. To people, to identities, to the stories you've been telling yourself about who you are.

That the bright window isn't something to fear—it's something to walk toward, even when every human instinct screams to stay in the dark, familiar room.

And that when a beautiful, mysterious guide shows up and tilts her head with cosmic curiosity, you follow. Because she's not leading you away from yourself.

She's leading you back.

 

Mahalo nui loa 🤙🏽

 

About the Author: Ðean is a multi-disciplinary creative professional who combines personal experience with self expression. After overcoming significant hidden and personal setbacks, he now helps others unblock creative freedoms that provide time access for their passions. His approach combines the Hawaiian principles of Kokua (helping others) and Ohana (family) with proven strategies to leverage states of being and release the flow, which ultimately expresses our own personal journey.

Now what? After you've said goodbye - what are you to do with your time? [tap here for the other chapter]