— “Sam, what you’re describing is well-known in psychosomatic medicine. We’d like to understand how you identify these cases and how you treat them.”
Sam looked at Matthew, who gave him an encouraging nod.
— “It’s hard to explain how I identify them. It’s like… you know when someone is sad just by looking at them, even if they don’t say anything? It’s like that. I can feel where the sadness is hidden in the body.”
— “And the treatment?” another doctor asked.
— “It’s always three things. The clay, the stories, and above all, making the person feel loved and safe.”
— “Can you explain each of those in more detail?”
Sam took a deep breath.
— “The clay is made from specific earth found near mountain springs. My grandmother said it draws out negative energy. I can’t explain how, but it works. The stories are tales I tell during the treatment. They’re about brave people who lost something but found it again. They help the person remember that they’re brave, too.”
— “And the love?” a psychologist asked.
Matthew stepped back to the mic.
— “That’s the most important part. Sam didn’t just help me with clay and stories. He helped me because he made me feel like I mattered, that I deserved to be okay, and that there were people who cared about me.”
Sam nodded.
— “My grandmother always said medicine without heart is just a chemical. A chemical can treat symptoms, but care heals people.”
The auditorium was silent for a few moments.
— “Sam!” a senior physician stood up. “Would you be willing to do a demonstration? Not necessarily a full treatment, but show us how you apply your techniques.”
Sam looked at Matthew.
— “We can try, but we need someone who actually needs help. You can’t fake this.”
— “I have a patient,” a psychologist said, raising her hand. “An eight-year-old girl who stopped talking after her parents’ divorce. I’ve tried various approaches with no success. Would you be willing to try?”
Sam and Matthew exchanged a look.
— “Can she come up here?” Sam asked.
— “She’s here in the building. I brought her hoping you might be willing to meet her.”
Fifteen minutes later, a shy little girl named Lily was brought onto the stage. She was accompanied by her mother and looked at Sam with wide, uncertain eyes. Sam knelt down to her level.
— “Hi, Lily. My name is Sam, and this is Matthew. Want to sit here with me?”
Lily looked at her mother, who gave an encouraging nod. She sat on a small chair on the stage.
— “Lily,” Sam began, “you’ve heard a lot of things lately about your parents, haven’t you?”
Lily nodded.
— “Sometimes the words you hear make you feel really sad.”
Lily nodded again, her eyes filling with tears.
— “You know what? I’m going to tell you a story. It’s about a little princess who hid her words in a safe place because she was afraid they’d make people even angrier.”
Sam began to gently apply the clay around Lily’s eyes, telling the story of the princess whose parents were always arguing. The princess thought that if she stopped talking, maybe her parents would stop arguing too, Sam explained. His quiet voice echoed in the silent auditorium.
— “But do you know what happened? The parents kept arguing because their argument had nothing to do with the princess. It was an argument between them, about grown-up things.”
Sam paused and looked directly at Lily.
— “And the princess was very sad because she’d hidden her words for nothing. Но then a wise friend appeared and told her something very important.”
The entire audience was captivated. The doctors and psychologists watched, fascinated by Sam’s approach.
— “The friend said: ‘Princess, your words are yours. They don’t cause arguments and they don’t stop arguments between grown-ups, but they can bring joy to you and the people who love you.'”
Lily was looking at Sam with rapt attention.
— “And do you know what the princess did?”
