How it works
From a letter about her to her first hour
Nothing here needs booking, downloading or signing, and nothing ever turns up at her house. This page is the whole of it.
First, you write about her
One paragraph will do: what you have seen change in your mother or your father, what worries you, what you hope can come back for them. You cannot get it wrong, and writing commits you to nothing.
You can ask to talk instead. The call comes before anything else happens: Jonathan’s team take it first, and where the situation is one he can genuinely help, he joins it himself.
The reply is his own, and it comes within a day. It answers what you asked, names the fee — or offers a call to talk it through — and says which membership he would choose, or that he doubts he can help. He would rather lose the enquiry than earn it falsely. Refusals are uncommon, but they are real.
Then you tell him who she is
One sitting, and only one. Her days and her nights. What she stopped doing, without ever saying so. What she frets about at three in the morning. What a good week would hold, if anyone asked her.
Perhaps ten minutes of your evening — and it steers everything he does afterwards. He reads it, it shapes her sessions, and it goes nowhere else.
Then you tell her — or him
You tell your mother yourself, in your own words. If the words will not come, hand over the page written for her — at the kitchen table, or printed and put in the post — and let it do the explaining.
Most parents need nothing more. Some will shrug and smile — that is a yes, and nothing further is required. And no is an answer too; it closes the matter. Nobody will try to talk her round.
Nothing ever begins before she has been told and is content, and her agreement is recorded on a short form — hers if she wants to fill it, yours confirming her yes if she would rather not. Where a parent can no longer weigh a decision like this herself, the family decides for her and says so on the form.
Then you choose her hour
An hour in her week when lying down is easy — an hour, occasionally closer to two, so last thing at night suits most people, and if sleep takes her before it ends, all the better. She closes her eyes and does nothing. Some people feel the work as it happens, a warmth or a pleasant heaviness; plenty feel nothing at all, and it makes no difference either way. One small rule for that day: better without alcohol.
The body sessions need no arranging. They run to their clock while she gets on with whatever the day holds — she always knows which days are hers, and nothing is asked of her on them.
What her week becomes
On Elevate, two fixed hours: the body hour she lives straight through, and the mind hour she lies down for. On Elite the body work comes every second day, with more sessions round it — yet her side of the week looks identical: one hour lying down, and a life carrying on around the rest.
When her hours come round, he starts — whatever country he is in, whatever room she is in, with no screen anywhere. The mind work builds — none of its hours stands alone — which is why that hour is weekly.
Month on month
The work accumulates. Early on it concentrates where the need is loudest — her nights, usually — and then it ranges wider. Some people notice a change inside the first week. For most the change is unmistakable inside a couple of months, and it keeps building from there.
Nothing else is required of her — that promise holds. But returning energy looks for somewhere to go. People find themselves wanting earlier nights, better meals, a walk that lengthens, and none of it is asked; all of it compounds what the work is doing.
There is no course and no finish line. You pay for a month at a time, and stopping is one short email.
What you watch
Each session enters the record as it ends: which hour, what was done, when it ran. Jonathan adds his own note each week on how things stand. Whatever you see on a visit or hear down the telephone, send it back; it is in front of him before he next works on her.
Then ignore all of that and watch her. The garden. The invitations she stops refusing. Whether she rings you first again. Paper is the receipt; she is the result.
What stays hers
If she ever writes to him — there is a page here for exactly that — what she says stays with him completely. Nothing she confides is reported back to you, whoever pays, and what you tell him about her is sealed just as tightly the other way. Where she is glad for news to travel, he passes on that and stops. Her trust is not part of the purchase.
Two things it will never be
It is not medicine. Her doctors, her prescriptions and every appointment in her diary carry on untouched, and he will never suggest altering one thing a doctor has ordered.
And it is not companionship. He and she never speak — and if company and conversation are the real need, he will say so and stand aside.