For the parent you have started to worry about, and the son or daughter who noticed first.
Every week, Jonathan gives two full hours to your mother, and to nobody else.
Everyone he has worked with has improved.
In mind and mood, without exception. In the body, nearly always. He has done nothing else, full time, for years, and has yet to meet the exception — though he will not turn that into a promise to you, because no two people respond alike.
One of the two hours goes to her body, the other to her mind and her feelings. He works from wherever in the world he happens to be. She stays in her own house, and the two of them never speak.
The twelve signs families mistake for ageEvery word of this page is just as true of a father. Often truer — men say “I’m fine” the longest.
The change in her you have been trying not to name
She sounds tired more often than she did. She has stopped being the one who suggests things. Last month she said no to an invitation she would once have accepted before you finished asking.
She tells you she is fine, and you let her.
You have begun filing it all under her age. You never decided to. It was simply the least frightening drawer.
What he actually does
The closest name for what Jonathan does is biofield work — the field of energy in and around a living body, the one that hands-on healing has always reached through touch. It is only the closest name: what he does goes a long way beyond any biofield work described anywhere. He works from a distance, no one comes to the house, and no hand is laid on her.
You are allowed to find that unlikely. She may too. Neither of you has to believe a word of it for the work to do what it does.
The body hour — she need not sit still for it
She can be at the shops, deadheading roses, halfway through the crossword. He works on all of her, and gives most of the hour to whatever is worst: the legs that lift her out of a low chair, her balance, her lungs, the joints she has stopped trusting.
The mind hour — the one she lies down for
She chooses when. She lies down, closes her eyes, and that is all — an hour, occasionally closer to two, which is why last thing at night is most people’s choice, and being asleep for it is better still. Each session picks up where the last one left off, and the work goes to what a long life stacks quietly on a mind: worry that stopped being about anything in particular, fear that arrived without announcing itself, griefs still carried, a flatness nobody thought to question.
There is no appointment to keep
No telephone call, no screen, nobody at her front door. This is neither company nor counselling, and if talking to somebody is the thing she most needs, Jonathan will tell you plainly that it is not this.
She does have to agree, and that conversation is yours, not his. There is a page on this site written for her, in her first language, that sets the whole thing out. She agrees once. If she says no, that is the end of it; if she wants to stop later, she stops, and no one asks her why.
Her doctor, her prescriptions and her appointments are untouched by any of it.
How much of him she gets
The smaller of the two is Elevate: one hour on her body and one on her mind, every week of the year.
Elite is the larger. The body work moves to every second day with more added beside it, several times the weekly hours, for a parent who has lost ground quickly and needs it back quickly. Jonathan will say plainly which of the two he would choose for her.
Never once advertised
Families found him the way they find a good surgeon: through somebody they trusted who would not stop talking about what had happened to their own mother. Word of mouth alone carried him into more than forty countries. Until this page existed you had to be introduced to reach him.
He also turns away people he could bill. Every enquiry is weighed, and when what he could do would not justify what it would cost you, he says so. It is what makes his yes worth having.
How Jonathan learned this
What comes back, and in what order
The mind moves first, in nearly every case. Thinking that is clear again, and the grip of anxiety loosening. Families describe her as brighter — in her face, in how she speaks, in what she is like to be in a room with. It shows well before anything physical does.
Then sleep, because very little else shifts while her nights are broken. Then energy, which is what makes a day worth filling. The body comes last: walking into a restaurant, or getting down to a grandchild and back up again, stops being something she has to think about beforehand.
A father of seventy-two was waking eight times a night when his daughter arranged this. His wife, awake for every one of them, watched it fall to once. He is still in the same house, running the same life, and the conversation about moving him out of it never had to be had.
Read what that daughter wroteAsked of her: one hour. Asked of you: ten minutes.
Hers is that lying-down hour, eyes closed. She travels nowhere, learns nothing and swallows nothing.
Yours is a single sitting at the very start: who she actually is, how she sleeps, what she used to love and has given up, what a decent week would contain if the choosing were hers. Nothing else you write will matter as much.
The supplements, the exercise classes, the bike in the spare room — every one of them worked only while she kept it up, and she stopped. There is nothing here for her to keep up.
You will not be left wondering
Each session is written up as it happens: which one, and when. He does not narrate what he finds while working — the results are the report. Once a week Jonathan writes to you himself, and he asks one thing back: tell him what you notice. A line after the Sunday telephone call is in front of him before her next hour.
The record tells you it is happening. She is the one who tells you it is working — and she will not say so. You will simply notice, months later, that she has stopped pausing on the stairs.
Why there is no price on this page
Because there is no single price. It turns on what she needs, what you are hoping for, how much work that will take, and which of the two memberships fits. Jonathan sets out the figure in his reply, before you have agreed to anything.
It is not a small sum. He believes he is the best there is at this, and the number says so.
You pay by the month, and any month can be the last one. One line in an email is the whole procedure.
Tonight, do this much
Curiosity is enough. Start with the list: twelve things a tiring mind and body do that get read as character, and that a telephone call hides completely. Even if you never write to him at all, you will read your own mother more accurately for having it.
Email me the listWhen you are ready, write to him. There is no form — a paragraph about her, or about him, is enough. Jonathan reads every one himself and answers within a day, and if you would rather talk it through than write it down, say so: a call is easily arranged. If something already frightens you, put it in the first line. Those are read first.
Start the letterThey raised you. This is your opportunity to raise them.