Some time ago, a beneficiary who was already receiving manual therapy sessions from another therapist came to my practice as well. I naturally asked what had made him come to me.
The answer came without hesitation:
– Because you have a higher Yumeiho grade.
I admit, the answer did not flatter me. On the contrary, it made me think.
I asked whether he was dissatisfied with the therapist he had been seeing until then. He said no. From what he told me, he was satisfied with the sessions and trusted that therapist. The change had nothing to do with the results, but with the idea that a higher professional grade automatically means a better therapist.
I did not try to tell him he was wrong, nor did I try to compare myself with my colleague. I could not have done so anyway. I did not know his work or his results. But I did know one thing that experience has confirmed for me many times: a professional grade says something about a therapist’s training, but it does not tell you everything about their competence, character, or commitment.
That experience stayed with me. And I realized that probably almost all of us have, at some point, asked the same question: is there really such a thing as the best therapist?
It is a natural question. When it comes to health, each of us wants to find the best-prepared professional. If there were a simple formula for identifying that person, the choice would be easy. We would look at diplomas, experience, recommendations, or reputation, and we would have our answer. But reality is more nuanced.
Over the years, I have met highly experienced therapists who continued to learn with the same humility they had at the beginning of their careers. I have also met people who, after only a few years of practice, felt they had nothing left to discover. The difference was not the number of years, but what they did with them.
It is sometimes said that some people have twenty years of experience, while others have one year of experience repeated twenty times. It is a simple phrase, but it captures very well the difference between routine and growth.
At the same time, experience does not solve everything. The human body does not follow recipes. Two people with the same diagnosis may have different causes, different reactions, and different outcomes. Sometimes they respond remarkably well to the same therapy; sometimes they do not. Many factors are involved: general health, associated conditions, lifestyle, stress levels, and also the person’s willingness to take an active part in their own recovery.
There is another aspect that cannot be measured in diplomas or years of practice: the relationship between therapist and beneficiary. Trust, communication, and the way the two manage to work together influence the outcome more than we might imagine. That is precisely why a therapist may achieve excellent results with one person and less favorable results with another, without this defining their professional value.
In the more than eighteen years that I have practiced Yumeiho, I have learned that this profession offers very few absolute certainties. Every time I thought I had found a rule that applied to everyone, a beneficiary came along and showed me that the human body is more complex than any theory.
Anatomy, biomechanics, and therapeutic techniques can be learned. They can be studied and refined for years. Yet there is something that appears on no diploma: a sincere interest in the person in front of you. That cannot be taught in a classroom or assessed in an examination.
People can usually sense whether, to you, they are simply another appointment or whether you are genuinely trying to understand and help them. Some call this attitude a vocation. Others call it a gift, empathy, or simply respect for the profession. The name matters less. What matters is that it keeps the therapist curious, willing to ask questions, and committed to continuing to learn.
In recent years, it has become increasingly easy to confuse visibility with professional value. We live in a time when image is everywhere. There are excellent therapists who are barely present online, and there are therapists who communicate extremely well and provide high-quality services. But there are also situations in which promotion ends up taking more time than working with beneficiaries. Marketing may bring a beneficiary into the practice, but what they find there is what may make them return.
The same applies to recommendations. They are important and worth considering, but they are never a guarantee. The same therapist may be exceptional for one person and less suitable for another. Not because one is right and the other is wrong, but because every person is different.
Perhaps this is where the answer really lies. The question is not who the best therapist is.
The question is who the right therapist is for each person at that particular moment.
I believe this is a much more honest question and one that is much closer to reality. And if we are therapists, perhaps at the end of each day it is worth asking ourselves something else:
“Did I do everything I could today for the person in front of me?”
If the answer is “yes,” then we are probably on the right path.
Because, in the end, a therapist’s value is not determined by how often they are called “the best,” but by the people they have helped with professionalism, respect, and integrity.
