I See You Well

How holding a different picture changes the nervous system (and sometimes the parking lot)

If you can’t see it, don’t expect to live it. That’s become one of the quiet rules I practice by.

When I’m with a patient, I don’t see them as “the problem they came in with.” I see them as well. In my mind’s eye, they’re already doing what their body currently can’t—lifting the grandkid, sleeping through the night, driving without fear, taking the stairs two at a time. I repeat it silently, almost like a prayer: I see you well. I see you well. I see you well. It’s not a secret, and if they ever ask what’s going on inside my head while I’m checking and adjusting, I’ll tell them exactly that.

I’ve watched this change things too many times to chalk it up to coincidence. The nervous system is always listening. The body is always taking notes from the pictures we hold.

If You Can’t Visualize It, It Can’t Happen

Here’s the problem I’ve run into:
I can do this easily when I’m in service. When I’m at the table, hands on, plugged into Innate and the nervous system, visualization feels natural. Automatic.

But when I try to apply that same principle to the “smaller stuff”? Suddenly, it feels like someone turned down the signal.

• A financial shift I want to see.

• A relationship dynamic I’d like to soften.

• Some logistics or everyday detail of life.

I go to visualize it, and it’s like trying to tune in a radio station through static. I know the station is out there, broadcasting, but my receiver is full of noise.

Meanwhile, I’ll step into a room with someone whose nervous system is overwhelmed, whose body has been stuck in a pattern for months or years, and my inner vision is crystal clear. I see their potential reality like it’s already printed and mailed. The outcome I want comes into focus. And more often than not, the body follows.

One day, that reality showed up in a way that was simple, but impossible for me to ignore.

The Frozen Shoulder That Finally Moved

Let me give you a simple example.

I had a patient come in with what most people would call a “frozen shoulder.” Her arm just wouldn’t raise. Daily stuff was a pain—getting dressed, reaching up, basic movements had turned into a project.

I did what I normally do. I checked her, adjusted what needed to be adjusted, and then I went to gently lift her arm to see how it was doing.

It was still stuck.
That honestly surprised me, because in my head I had already seen it moving. I expected it to move.

So instead of muscling through it, I paused for a second and shifted my focus.

In my mind’s eye, I saw her arm going up smoothly, like it was no big deal. I pictured her doing the exact motion that had been off-limits. I stayed with that picture while my hands stayed relaxed.

And then it let go.
Not with fireworks or angels singing—just a clear sense of “there it is,” and her arm started to move.

From the outside, you could say, “The adjustment worked and the shoulder released.” And you’d be right. But from my side of the story, it felt like my inner picture of her moving freely finally overrode the picture her body had been running of being stuck.

To her, it might have felt surprising.
To me, it looked like a Principle doing what it does.

The Principles of Healing

Every now and then, a chiropractor “knocks one out of the park.” The story spreads.
The patient who had given up hope suddenly turns a corner. The chronic case you thought would take months responds in weeks.

But here’s what I’ve learned:
Those aren’t accidents.

They’re not random gifts dropped from the sky on a lucky Tuesday. They are expressions of Principle—Innate, nervous system, tone, and intelligence doing what they always do when interference is cleared and a clear picture is held.

If I had to name a few of the Principles of Healing I see play out again and again, they’d sound something like:

• The nervous system always tells the truth.

• Life moves toward coherence when interference is removed.

• The picture you hold is a form of instruction to the body.

• What you expect with certainty, you see more of.

Tonal work, DeFT, Zone, whatever “brand” or lens you use—it all orbits the same reality: the body heals when its control system is free to do what it’s designed to do.

When I visualize someone as well, I’m not pretending. I’m not indulging in fantasy. I’m aligning my nervous system with the truth of what’s possible for theirs. When my picture is clear, my tone changes. My hands change. My presence changes.

And that’s when the so-called “miracles” start showing up more often.
Miracles are just Principles we haven’t gotten used to yet.

Why Is It Harder With the “Small Stuff”?

So why is it so easy to visualize big healings and so hard to visualize small, everyday outcomes?

Here’s my working theory:

When I’m with a patient, I’m not the main character. I’m not trying to get something from them; I’m there to serve something in them. That takes my ego out of the equation. My nervous system is calmer, clearer, more attuned.

When it comes to the “small” things—money, logistics, parking, schedules, life details—my own stories and survival programs creep in. Old patterns. Doubts. “What if it doesn’t work?” “What if I’m asking for too much?” “What if I don’t deserve it?”

The visual signal gets scrambled by my own interference.

It’s not that the Principle doesn’t work on small things. It’s that my participation in the Principle gets noisy. I become the interference.

And yet, every so often, life sends a reminder that even the smallest things are still subject to these same laws.

“There’s Always a Great Parking Spot Up Front for a Great Chiropractor”

One of my mentors, Dr. Tim Langley, used to say,
“There’s always a great parking spot up front for a great chiropractor.”

He didn’t say it as a joke or a throwaway line. He lived it. He was a DE (Dynamic Essentials) doc who carried Dr. Sid E. Williams’ philosophy in his bones—Innate, the Big Idea, the trust that life organizes around principle when you do.

Time and time again, that spot would open right when he pulled up. Not because the universe cares about asphalt more than anything else, but because Principle doesn’t care how “big” or “small” the thing is. The field is the field. The law is the law.

That line stuck with me, not because of the parking, but because of the posture behind it: a chiropractor walking into the world with quiet confidence that what he needed would be there when he arrived.

Years later, near the end of his life, Dr. Tim drove an hour from his home in Atlanta to see me at my office in Dalton. He was referred to me because I’m a certified Zone Technique practitioner, and I was honored to check and adjust him.

But underneath that clinical role was something much bigger:
One of my mentors, a man who lived and taught these principles, thought that highly of me.
He trusted my hands, my nervous system, and the work I do enough to make that drive.

In a way, that visit felt like its own “great parking spot.” Not the asphalt kind, but the soul kind—a moment lining up perfectly in time and space to say, “You’re on the right track. Keep going. Keep trusting what you see.”

So I keep visualizing.
I keep seeing people well before they feel it.
I keep expecting the so-called miracles, knowing they’re just principles playing out in real time.

And every now and then, when I pull into a lot, I still hear Dr. Tim’s voice:
“There’s always a great parking spot up front for a great chiropractor.”

Maybe the work is simply learning to see those spots—on the lot, at the table, in our own lives—and then having the courage to pull forward into them, trusting they were ours all along.