“He Looks Healthy” — So Why Did I Sense Serious Illness?
- Admin
- 4 days ago
- 3 min read
I believe it was about a year and a half ago, during one of our training workshops.
A physical therapist had joined that day, and for the purpose of practicing remote support and reading through photographs, he brought many photos of his clients.
As I looked at each one, I simply spoke out whatever first came to mind.
And strangely enough, it was often accurate.
For one woman, I suddenly said:
“This person seems to have financial problems.”
And apparently, she was in the middle of a difficult inheritance dispute.
Another person appeared to be deeply stuck in a codependent relationship.
Cases varied every time.
Perhaps because of this, the physical therapist became increasingly fascinated by the process.
From then on, he began bringing large numbers of photos to every workshop.
That day, another woman attending the workshop showed me a photograph of a middle-aged man.
It had been taken from Facebook.
The man was smiling warmly in the picture.
At first glance, he looked kind, healthy, and completely ordinary.
There seemed to be nothing unusual about him at all.
But the moment I saw the photo, the first words out of my mouth were:
“Ah… this person is seriously ill.”
I continued quietly looking at the image for a few more moments and then murmured:
“…Leukemia, perhaps.”
When it came time to compare impressions with reality, the woman who brought the photo looked stunned.
“How did you know that? He actually has leukemia.”
Then she added:
“I just got chills…”
My Meguro salon is very small.
It is not exactly the kind of place where people expect mysterious or dramatic experiences.
When people talk about “getting chills,” I usually imagine something like hearing your favorite singer perform live in a massive stadium.
And yet, at that moment, the feeling in the room was unmistakable.
What struck me most was that, visually, the man looked perfectly healthy.
Someone later asked me:
“But he looks completely normal in the picture. How could you tell?”
The truth is, I was not looking at his facial expression itself.
I was looking at the atmosphere surrounding him.
The space.
The overall presence within the photograph.
No matter how brightly someone smiles, severe illness sometimes still feels unmistakable to me.
Of course, this is not medical diagnosis.
I am not claiming supernatural certainty.
But after spending many years observing bodies and people, certain impressions begin to emerge naturally.
Interestingly, these kinds of impressions often come through most clearly when there is no personal attachment involved.
When relationships become emotionally close, things become much harder to read.
Emotions interfere.
Bias enters.
In many ways, I think this work is really about learning how to observe without mixing in your own emotional reactions.
Thinking back on it, before I ever began this kind of work, I had already been running an online English school since 2009.
Even back then, when hiring teachers, the thing I relied on most was not resumes or qualifications.
It was the face photograph.
Of course, I checked experience and credentials.
But ultimately, I made most decisions based on my first impression from the photo itself.
And looking back now, every time I ignored that instinct and hired someone anyway, it ended badly.
Especially in cases where:
“I cannot refuse because they were introduced by someone.”
I would feel hesitation internally.
But I would prioritize social relationships over my own intuition.
And sooner or later, problems would emerge.
On the other hand, when I trusted my instincts, I was rarely far off.
Still, human relationships are always changing.
That is what makes life difficult.
People change.
Environments change.
Someone who once felt completely aligned can suddenly become incompatible later.
When I fail, it is usually because I could not fully read those shifting variables.
Life is complicated that way.
Recently, I have increasingly felt that observing the body also means observing the environment and relationships surrounding a person.
In remote support and space-based sessions, I carefully observe the “information” contained within photographs.
▼ Remote Support
Yuki Matsuoka
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