Back in Time: Studying Iridology and Gaining Friendship with the Amish

7.1.25

By Sam Freeman

Nestled in the quiet hills of Hestand, Kentucky, I found more than just a place to study iridology--I found a peaceful rhythm, lifelong friendships, and an atmosphere that felt like stepping back in time.

I studied under a man named Jake, an Amish iridologist with a deep well of knowledge and a heart full of kindness. He didnt just teach this way of life--he lived it.

People came from all over the country, and even the world, to sit with Jake, trusting the time-honored ways of healing passed down through generations.

The clinic there was first made famous by a man named Rueben Schwartz. I remember growing up as people would talk of him and say… there is an Amish man outside of Tompkinsville that can look in your eye and tell you exactly what ails you.

By the time I got there, Rueben had retired. But as he lived close by, I would wonder over to his house to have a chat and try to gain a little extra knowledge and wisdom.

Watching Jake work was witnessing something sacred. Gentle. Unhurried. Completely in tune with the person sitting across from him.

Inside the clinic, there were no digital screens, no modern distractions--just handwritten charts, many books, and years of collected wisdom. The simplicity of the space allowed for something extraordinary:

presence. Each session, each moment of study, felt intentional and grounding.

I would soon learn from them of some of the Natural Health Practitioners they had studied and learned from, such as Dr. Bernard Jensen, Dr. Carey Reams and John Christopher.

I found myself wanting to absorb as much information as possible. I felt like when I was there, I was a part of what they were doing, and what they were doing was very special.

The land itself added to the magic. Plowed fields, horse-drawn buggies, and fresh air created a learning environment that was peaceful and pure.

There was something about the slower pace that allowed knowledge to settle more deeply--not just into my mind, but into my spirit.

I remember many late afternoons after the clinic closed. We would sit together, talking--about life, about faith, about healing. There was a comfort in those talks, an ease that can only come from mutual respect and honest listening.

People often ask me what it was like to work among the Amish, and I always say the same thing--it was like

going back in time, but in the best way possible. It was a place where time didnt race ahead of you, where

community still mattered, and where healing was both art and ministry.

When my time of training came to an end, I was flooded with gratitude.--but also a quiet sadness. I knew it was time, but saying

goodbye to the people, the land, and that sacred way of learning was harder than I expected. I knew I was

taking a part of that place with me, but leaving still felt like closing the door on something truly special.

Looking back, it wasnt just iridology I learned in Hestand. I learned how to listen more deeply, how to trust in

the bodys wisdom, and how to live more simply and intentionally.

I originally went there to learn a craft, but I left with something much more important— Friendship