In recent years, Tulum has emerged not only as a wellness hotspot but also as a kind of spiritual showroom. In this place, women worldwide come to find healing, initiate transformation, and reconnect with something more profound than the noise of modern life. But behind the sound of crystal bowls and the scent of copal smoke, another story unfolds. One that is softer in tone but sharp in consequence. A tale of how sisterhood, empowerment, and healing can be repackaged, rebranded, and sold—stripped of their depth and offered as an aesthetic experience.
On the surface, everything looks sacred. The rituals, the ceremonies, the affirmations spoken in whisper-soft tones. Flower mandalas are laid with intention, white linens worn in unity, and images of smiling women sitting in the circle. But something within that perfection can begin to feel sterile. Something vital is missing—often sensed by those who leave retreats feeling strangely hollow, unsure of why the transformation didn’t last or why, deep down, they feel more alone than when they arrived.
This is the shadow side of the global wellness movement—a performance of healing that often bypasses the real work. This illusion can be especially painful for women, who are increasingly seeking spiritual depth in a world that rarely makes space for it. While Tulum is one of the epicenters of this trend, it is by no means alone. The same pattern emerges from Bali to online mentorship programs, from social media circles to luxury retreats across continents: sacred language used to sell, not to serve.
From Sisterhood to Strategy
The language used in these spaces is designed to be disarming—words like “goddess,” “sovereignty,” and “divine feminine” offer a sense of elevation and mystique. But beneath that language, an invisible economy is at play. Power dynamics often go unnamed but are deeply felt. Some women rise as spiritual authorities, while others are encouraged to surrender, look up, and follow. The promise is that walking beside these leaders might eventually become one’s own guru. But rarely is that promise fulfilled.
Instead, dependency emerges: a quiet, unspoken hierarchy where one woman’s image of embodiment becomes the standard to which others must aspire. Facilitators—many of whom have not done the problematic, internal labor of confronting their shadows—stand at the center of these circles, projecting wisdom that may not be rooted in lived experience but in language learned from books, training, or online personas.
This isn’t always malicious—it’s often unconscious. But the result is the same: a distortion of empowerment where healing becomes something one purchases access to rather than cultivates from within.
The Real Cost of Aesthetic Healing
There’s a reason this dynamic is so prevalent, especially in spiritual destinations and online spaces. These environments lend themselves to the kind of spirituality that photographs well. But healing is not always beautiful. It is rarely linear. It does not unfold gracefully under perfect lighting. It is, more often, disruptive, raw, disorganized, and private.
When healing is reduced to a curated experience, something profound is lost: emotional safety. Many are being led into vulnerable inner spaces by facilitators who lack the training or capacity to hold what arises. The experiences may feel profound in the moment, but without grounded integration and true support, the impact often fades, leaving behind not clarity but confusion and emptiness.
This creates a painful disconnect between the depth that is promised and the depth that is actually held, between the transformation that is marketed and the one that is meaningfully guided.
Why We Keep Coming Back
Still, the cycle continues. Why? Because the longing is real. The ache to feel part of something sacred, to belong to a circle of people who truly see each other, is not a trend—it’s ancestral. We are wired for community, ritual, and shared meaning. And in a culture that offers so little of that, any echo of connection feels like hope.
But this is also why these spaces must be held carefully. They are not just businesses. They are containers for profound human longing. And when that longing is met with illusion instead of authenticity, the harm runs deep—not only for those who attend but also for the integrity of the spiritual movement itself.
Responsibility on Both Sides
To move forward, we must name responsibility—on all sides. Facilitators must do the real work before stepping into leadership. This means confronting their trauma, receiving supervision, learning how to hold space ethically, and asking whether they are leading from ego or service.
But seekers must also become more discerning. Spiritual maturity is not passive. It asks us to question what we’re drawn to. Is it truth or comfort? Is it depth or aesthetic? Are we seeking embodiment or consuming spirituality like another lifestyle trend?
Discernment doesn’t mean cynicism. It means reverence. It means protecting the sacred from being diluted by branding, virality, or personal gain demands.
A New Vision for Spiritual Community
True sisterhood is not something you buy—it’s something you build. Slowly. Inconveniently. With trust. It’s what happens when one person shows up for another without needing to be seen doing it, when presence replaces performance. When truth interrupts convenience. When healing happens, it does not occur in a spectacle but in silence.
Likewise, authentic spiritual leadership is unglamorous. It involves admitting what you don’t know, saying no to work you’re not ready to hold, and walking away from roles that feed your image but starve your soul.
For all its contradictions, Tulum still holds the potential to lead this shift. But so do many places around the world. Whether in Mexico, Morocco, or an Instagram live stream, the invitation is the same: to move from being a backdrop for spiritual branding into becoming true incubators for conscious, grounded, heart-led community. That will require bravery, humility, and a deep reorientation from aesthetic to authenticity.
Honoring the Women Who Are Doing the Work
But not everything is an illusion.
Alongside the spectacle, some women creep, consistently and with profound reverence for the sacred nature of this work. They are women who have walked through fire—not once but many times—and emerged not with teachings polished for social media but with wisdom etched into their very presence. They don’t market themselves as healers, yet they help others heal—not by claiming to fix but by holding space for others to remember their own power.
These women may have videos, content, and even platforms, but their work is never a performance. Their presence online is not curated for show but shared in reverence. They understand that some healing parts cannot—and should not—be captured. Much of the work they facilitate is so intimate, so spiritually raw, that it demands privacy, not exposure. The pain that’s held, the emotional release, the ancestral weight carried—these moments belong to the sacred, not the screen. Their content, when it exists, reflects the depth of their path, not a spectacle. Their most excellent work often happens far from the camera’s eye, in spaces where only trust, silence, and truth are allowed in.
They’ve sat in the dark. They’ve held their shadows. They’ve wrestled with feelings of unworthiness, abandonment, and inadequacy—the same pain many bring into the circle. And because they’ve met those parts of themselves with love, they can meet others without judgment, superiority, or ego.
True facilitators are not defined by how many attend their events but by how deeply they can sit in stillness with another’s pain. They guide not from theory but from embodiment. They lead not from a pedestal but from presence. And they stay—often unseen—long after the ceremony ends.
So yes, there are those who wear the costume of spirituality and confuse performance for power. But there are also those who live in service, who walk the path of humility, who embody the sacred not as a brand but as a way of being. And they deserve to be seen—not in the way of platforms and promotions but in the way that truly matters: with respect, gratitude, and trust.
The real evolution of wellness—whether in Tulum or anywhere across the globe—will not come from dismantling it entirely but from discerning who is truly walking with us and who is merely passing through in costume. Both exist. One must be questioned. The other must be honored.
We invite our readers—whether facilitators, participants, or those quietly watching from the edges—to share their reflections on our social media platforms. What has been your experience with spiritual spaces, online or in person? What does real sisterhood look like to you? And how do we begin to heal not just ourselves but the culture of healing itself?
Let’s talk. Let’s listen. Let’s hold space—for all of it. The illusion. The truth. The longing. And the women who carry it all with love.
