Oberon for Health Coaches and Practitioners: How the Readings Work

You’re a coach, a nutritionist, a naturopath or a therapist, and you keep running into the same wall. Your client feels unwell, their results come back unremarkable, and you’re left working from a history and a hunch.

If you work with food, you’ll know the version of this that takes the longest. Weeks of lists. Keep a diary, take this out, put it back in, see what happens. By the time you have anything solid, your client has lost two months and a fair amount of faith. A reading doesn’t settle that for you, but it does give you somewhere to start other than the whole alphabet.

Somewhere along the way you heard about Oberon, and now you’re trying to work out whether it belongs in your practice.

I’ve been working with this instrument for years, with women who fly in from three continents and with people I’ve never met in person. What follows is what I’d want to know before I started, written for someone who will be sitting on my side of the screen.

What does the Oberon scan actually measure?

Think of it as a tuning fork rather than a microscope.

The instrument doesn’t look at your client’s tissue. It captures a signal associated with an organ, a structure or a substance, and compares that signal with a reference pattern stored in its library. The result is a number: How far apart those two patterns sit.

That number is called the D value, and it’s the whole game.

Below 0.425 the software marks the reading red, which means the spectral similarity is above 95 percent. Between 0.425 and 0.750 it’s flagged as significant at 85 percent or better. Above 0.750 the software doesn’t consider it meaningful. Those thresholds come from the manufacturer’s own manual, not from me.

So the instrument isn’t measuring the size of an organ, the level of a substance in blood, or the number of organisms in a gut. It’s comparing a captured pattern against a stored one, and telling you how close the match is.

That distinction matters more than anything else in this article, because it determines what you’re allowed to say afterwards.

Why I measure before I advise

Most practitioners I speak to have the opposite habit. They listen, they form a picture, and then they look for something to confirm it.

I do it the other way round.

Before I say a word about what I think is going on, I want something in front of both of us that neither of us invented. A full session covers around 400 areas of the body and produces roughly 800 individual entries. That’s a lot of information, and most of it will be unremarkable.

The value isn’t in any single line. It’s in the pattern that shows up when you lay the lists next to each other and notice that the same theme keeps appearing in places that have no obvious reason to be related.

That’s the moment a client stops feeling like they’re imagining things.

The instrument can organise an enormous amount of information very quickly. It doesn’t know your client’s story.

Where does the instrument stop and where do you begin?

This is the part nobody sells you on, and it’s the part that decides whether you’re any good at this.

The instrument doesn’t know that your client has been sleeping badly since March. It doesn’t know about the move, the diagnosis in the family, the job that has been quietly grinding them down for two years. It can’t weigh any of that.

You can.

So before I measure anything, I want to understand what has actually changed. What are they noticing? What have they already tried? What helped, and what did nothing? What are they afraid of?

Then I measure. Then I put the two together.

A reading without that context is a spreadsheet. Without the reading, a conclusion is only a hunch. The work lives in the overlap, and that’s yours to do, not the software’s.

Measure, connect, work

I run every session the same way, and I’d suggest you build something similar before you see your first client.

Measure. Take the readings without commentary. Don’t narrate while the screen is filling up, and don’t react to individual lines in front of the client. You’ll frighten people over entries that turn out to mean nothing.

Connect. Sit with the output afterwards and look for the theme. Which systems keep appearing? Does that line up with what they told you before you started? Where does the reading disagree with the story, and is that interesting or is it noise?

Work. Only now do you say something. And what you say is a starting point, not a verdict. One session is a snapshot. The useful thing is what happens over the following weeks when you measure again and see whether the pattern moved.

I deliberately leave the instrument’s own terminology in the report rather than rewriting everything into friendlier language. The client sees what the system produced, and my interpretation sits alongside it. That separation keeps you honest, and it’s the single best habit I can hand you.

Oberon for practitioners: What you need before your first paying client

Three things, in this order.

First, language you can defend. If you can’t explain the D value to a sceptical relative in two sentences, you aren’t ready to charge for it. Practise on someone who will push back.

Second, a clear line you’ll hold. I say out loud in the first five minutes of every session what this is and what it isn’t, and where someone needs their own doctor instead. Write it down before you start and the line holds. Improvised in the moment with a frightened client in front of you, it’s a lot harder.

Third, a plan for what happens next. A reading on its own changes nothing. If all you can offer is the scan, your clients will leave impressed and unchanged, and they won’t come back.

If you’d rather not assemble all of that yourself, I teach the opening curriculum I’d walk a new practitioner through as a six module course, Oberon essentials. Scan, read, and write a careful first protocol, in that order.

Two other pieces cover the client’s side of the screen. One walks through what a session actually shows you, and the other sets out the honest limits of bioresonance testing. My Oberon page explains the wider approach.

What about the Oberon biofeedback training that comes with the device?

If you’ve been searching for this, you’ll have noticed that most of what comes back is from the company that sells the machine. Your purchase includes training, a manual, videos and a group session, and that’s genuinely useful. I’m not going to pretend otherwise.

But notice what that training is for. It teaches you the software. Which button, which module, how to run a sweep, how to save a report.

None of it teaches you what to say when a client sees an alarming word on the screen and goes pale. None of it tells you which of the 800 entries to leave out of the conversation entirely. None of it helps you hold a boundary when someone asks you, directly, whether they have something serious.

That’s the gap, and it isn’t a criticism of the supplier. Software training is what they sell. The practice that surrounds it is a different skill and you’ll have to get it somewhere else, or build it yourself over your first twenty sessions.

One more thing worth knowing before you start. Page one of this search also carries a critical piece by Edzard Ernst and a decision from the state of California that questions the evidence behind the device. Your prospective clients can find those as easily as you did. Your best answer is the plain one: The instrument compares patterns, your coaching is what they’re paying for, and their doctor is still their doctor. Say it calmly and people relax.

Common questions

Do I need a formal qualification to work with an Oberon?

You don’t, and that’s precisely why the boundary matters so much. What you can offer is a structured way of looking at patterns across systems, alongside a client’s own history, and a plan for what to change first. The instrument organises information. It doesn’t hand anyone a verdict, and neither do you.

How long does it take before you’re confident with the readings?

Learning to read the output is quick. Knowing which of the 800 entries to ignore takes months. My honest answer is that the first twenty sessions are where you build experience, so price those accordingly and tell people they’re early clients.

Can you work with clients remotely?

Yes. I work with people across Europe, Australia and the United States over a video call, and the session runs the same way as it does in person. There’s a separate piece on running sessions from anywhere in the world that covers the practical side.

The instrument gives you information. What you do with it is still the job.