It Is Presumptuous to Think That One Person Can Heal Another

Yesterday, one of my trainees visited my practice for the first time in quite a while.

He recently opened his own bodywork practice in Tokyo.

It has only just opened.

Clients are beginning to come, little by little, but he told me that attracting new people has been difficult.

“It really is difficult to attract clients, isn’t it?”

he said.

“Yes, it is,”

I replied.

If you are good at what you do, clients will naturally come.

Unfortunately, the world is not that simple.

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There are simply too many bodywork practices.

Walk around almost any station in Tokyo, and you will find numerous businesses offering bodywork, bone-setting, acupuncture, and massage.

Depending on the condition, treatment at a bone-setting clinic may be covered by Japan’s public health insurance.

Practices like ours, however, are generally not covered.

From a client’s perspective, the differences between these services are not always clear.

They must choose one practice from countless possibilities and pay out of pocket for the treatment.

For someone visiting for the first time, that decision alone can feel significant.

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I told him about the business of running KaradaNaoru.

Some people come to me after spending six months or even a year at other practices without experiencing any improvement.

I try to produce a meaningful result in a single session whenever possible.

As a result, there are times when a long-standing problem improves after one session and I never see that person again.

“For the client, that’s perfectly fine,”

I told him.

“If the problem that brought them here has been resolved, there is no reason for them to keep coming back.”

From a business perspective, of course, this is not an easy model to stabilize.

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“To begin with, I think it’s presumptuous to say that one person heals another,”

I told him.

The practitioner is not above the client.

Nor is it a relationship in which one person unilaterally heals while the other is passively healed.

In the end, it is the person’s own body that restores itself.

All a practitioner can do is identify what may be obstructing that process and create conditions that make it easier for the body to return to its natural state.

This is also the principle behind KaradaNaoru:

“The body heals itself.”

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That is why I do not recommend the next appointment myself.

After a session, when someone is delighted that their body feels better, it feels wrong to ask:

“So, when would you like to come back?”

If they feel they need another session, they will return.

If they do not, there is no need.

I want to leave that decision to them.

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“But that makes running the business difficult, doesn’t it?”

he said.

He was absolutely right.

Do not create a dependent relationship with clients.

Do not recommend treatment they do not need.

Try to produce results in a single session.

The more faithfully we observe these principles, the further we move away from the conventional business model built around repeat visits.

I believe the principles themselves are sound.

But ideals alone do not pay the rent.

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That is why many practices sell packages of prepaid sessions.

They book the next appointment and encourage clients to return regularly.

I do not intend to condemn that approach outright.

Some conditions require continuing care.

Some people genuinely want regular maintenance.

Unless a business remains viable, it cannot continue supporting anyone.

Where does a necessary recommendation end, and where does the business owner’s convenience begin?

The boundary is not always clear.

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“Even a bodywork practice like ours is difficult to run, but restaurants have it much harder,”

I told him.

At least we do not have to purchase fresh ingredients every day.

We do not have unsold food that must be discarded.

In many cases, we do not need to employ a large staff.

Restaurants, however, must purchase supplies.

They have rent and utility bills.

If they employ part-time staff, they also have wages to pay.

Whether customers arrive or not, they must have the food and staff ready.

When I think about that, running a restaurant seems like an extraordinarily difficult business.

For a while, we shared the difficulties of being self-employed.

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Even so, I want to create a second and a third path that do not depend entirely on prepaid packages and repeat business.

Treat people.

Teach others.

Train practitioners.

Share ways of observing and understanding the body.

And when those practitioners eventually open their own businesses, help them attract clients as well.

Listening to him yesterday strengthened that desire in me.

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I want to care for my own health while working with the bodies of others.

Through treatment, I talk with people about their lives and their work.

When something needs attention, I help the body restore its balance.

When nothing is needed, I do nothing.

Perhaps the body feels slightly out of condition.

Perhaps work has become exhausting.

Perhaps something simply does not feel quite right.

I want my practice to be somewhere people can visit easily at such times.

A place where they can talk not only about their bodies, but also about their lives and their work.

And once they feel restored, they can return to their everyday lives.

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I hope his practice becomes that kind of place as well.

It takes time for a new practice to become established.

Technical ability alone is not enough.

People must come to understand the practitioner’s values and character, and trust must be built gradually.

I am still finding my own way too.

But if I can widen the path I have walked, perhaps it will be a little easier for those who follow.

“It really is difficult to attract clients, isn’t it?”

I cannot continue answering that question with nothing more than:

“Yes, it is.”

“The body restores itself.”

I want to work with him and my other trainees to create a sustainable way of working that remains true to that principle.