Leading ceremony is a sacred calling. But in all our time working in these spaces, we’ve observed a disheartening trend: more and more facilitators are making ceremony their primary source of income — and with that comes a host of ethical concerns.
When your survival depends on filling seats, it becomes harder to say no.
Harder to turn someone away who might be in a grey area as far as mental health contraindications.
Harder to hold strong standards around group size or training for those in support roles.
Harder to prioritize authentic care over cash.
Suddenly, the choices a facilitator makes aren’t just about integrity or safety — they’re about whether the rent gets paid. This pressure can lead to compromises in areas where there should never be compromise: participant screening, orientation, integration support, and the training of guardians.
Ceremony becomes transactional. People become numbers. And the quiet voice of discernment gets drowned out by the voice of profit.
We’ve seen it happen with referral programs, too — systems that are less about community and more about conversion.
“Bring a friend and get a discount.”
“Sign up five people and your ceremony is free.”
It begins to feel like a multilevel marketing scheme rather than a sacred gathering. The medicine becomes commodified. Each individual’s authentic call to sit with the medicine (or lack thereof) becomes obscured by monetized incentive.
To be clear: we’re not saying facilitators shouldn’t be paid. Fair, reciprocal compensation is important. It takes years of cultivation and a tremendous amount of ongoing effort to lead ceremonies. We wholeheartedly believe in honoring the time, energy, and devotion it takes to do this work well.
But when your entire livelihood hinges on how many people come to your next event, it creates a questionable structure — one that can lead even well-meaning facilitators to cut corners or overlook red flags in their participants.
The antidote isn’t black-and-white. It’s not about never receiving money or always having another job. It’s about staying anchored in your values. Finding ways to resource yourself that don’t depend solely on bringing people into ceremonies. Having enough spaciousness in your model that you can make decisions based on care, not financial pressure.
When ceremony is no longer your only means of survival, you have more room to be in true service. To say no when that is the most integral choice. To take time and space away from the work when you need to, instead of showing up at a reduced capacity because of financial pressures. To keep this work sacred — not strategic.
Because this path isn’t just about the “high” of big groups coming together to do deep work.
It’s about integrity, and a commitment to serving the highest good for everyone involved.
