Do Wellness Destinations Really Heal You?
Five days in Sedona gave me scenic hikes, unexpected detours, and something that felt like a shift.
Every year, seekers and soul-searchers flock to sites across the globe promising transformation, healing, or at the very least, a break from the ordinary. Few destinations capture this magnetic promise quite like Sedona, Arizona—a place whose red rocks and shimmering light have given rise to legends of “energy vortexes” and mystical renewal. Which is why I chose it for a recent five-day stay while my kid was at sleepaway camp and “healing” was on my TO DO list, marked “URGENT.”
During my five-day stay in that sacred city, I did what many seekers do: surrendered to the full menu of healing experiences on the activities list at my hotel. I woke at 4:30 to hike to an energy vortex where I watched the sun rise, had a “shamanic healing journey” to console my inner child, participated in a “coming together ceremony” with my soul, indulged in a lymphatic massage and a reiki session, lay down for a mind-bending “sound bath,” and took long meditative hikes beneath sandstone spires.
The grand finale? An astrology reading that left me hugging the astrologer like we were instant BFFs—though to be fair, he is a Taurus with a Pisces moon and Capricorn rising. So, obvs…
And now, here I am, sipping coffee at an airport gate in Phoenix as I wait to board my flight back to NYC, trying to process exactly what I just went through. Did I heal? Or did I just spend five days in Real Housewives, Red Rocks Edition—where the healing is mostly hype, costumes, and smoothies named things like Crystal Grotto and Canyon Cleanse? Is there such a thing as an “energy vortex” that can rewire your broken-feeling self?
There is no doubt about Sedona’s beauty. The light is red-gold and cinematic. The rocks glow like they’re on a spiritual payroll. It truly is breath-taking enough to uplift even the grumpiest viewer.
And then there were the treatments.
I was so relaxed during my reiki session I nearly drifted off to sleep. And I was perfectly delighted to hear from my astrologer that, though the last twenty years of my career have been lackluster, I’ve officially entered a period of “massive personal transformation.” Something about Pluto 'trining' Jupiter and my rising sign finally 'coming into its power'—but honestly, he had me the second he said I might finally get paid for my ideas. So, yay.
What else was amazing? I can barely find the right adjectives to describe the deliciousness of gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan coconut pancakes topped with coconut and macadamia nut sauce. And I’m not even going to try—because you can’t taste their transcendent glory, and I hate when writers or food network stars try to describe something you can’t enjoy yourself.


This is all to say, I enjoyed a lot. And yet, the contradictions began immediately— starting with check-in.
This was a spa—or at least it was marketed as one—but the first two rooms I was shown had mold. I hadn’t known mold was possible in the desert until it began to piss rain and the bellhop said, “Hmmmm… the monsoons seem to have come early this year.” Happily, the next room I was offered—newly renovated with a wood floor and air that smelled like juniper—was a delight.
And then there was the food.
Despite the lovely waitstaff and those coconut pancakes, meals at the hotel ranged from healthy to hedonistic—and sometimes just plain old bad for you. Yes, I could add flax seeds, maca, aloe, or spirulina to my “local prickly pear” smoothie. But breakfast included triple-cheese huevos rancheros, and the gluten-free blueberry muffin came with a sugar-crusted top thick enough to qualify as dessert.
At dinner, I declined the lamb, pork, and meat options and ordered fish—which arrived barely recognizable under a blanket of cream sauce. Hoping for something better in town, I was disappointed to discover that nearly everything there came wrapped in a tortilla or was slathered in bacon fat. Most dishes were so salty they should’ve come with a diuretic and a waiver.
My takeaway: for a place that draws so many health-conscious visitors, there’s definitely an opening in Sedona for a sit-down restaurant that serves clean, nourishing food that doesn’t make you wonder if 'heart-opening' was meant literally. (Entrepreneurs and restaurateurs, please take note!)
There were other inconsistencies, too—especially during some of my treatments. My shaman therapist, for example, was earnest and skilled but also gave her podcast a hearty plug more than once. Also, in what I can only describe as a plot twist, toward the end of our session, she guided me to envision a pool of water in a beautiful garden and promptly asked me to call upon Jesus to wash away all my suffering. As a Jew, I can confirm that nothing snaps you out of a meditative state faster than surprise Christianity. For me, it was an automatic exit from a hard-won dream state. Not quite the crossover episode I was expecting.
So, there you have it. My visit to Sedona had some ups and downs. And yet… I do feel better. I do feel like something in me softened, shifted, maybe even healed.
Was it because of the energy vortex?
Was it the smoothies?
The treatments?
Is my inner child now consoled enough to stop throwing tantrums?
Or is it simply five uninterrupted days of rest, nature, and the radical luxury of paying attention to myself?
Would this shift in my feelings have happened at any of earth’s healing spots?
Sedona may be famous for its swirling vortexes, but it’s hardly alone. From Machu Picchu’s cloud-wrapped heights to the snow-capped cone of Mt. Shasta, from the ancient stones of Glastonbury and Stonehenge to the sunlit majesty of Ayers Rock, from the shimmering expanse of Lake Titicaca to the sacred solitude of Mt. Kailash—there are many places that draw millions of travelers a year in search of a reboot. Reports of visions, mystical insights, and bodily sensations abound, and—with vistas perfect for social media—the invitation for pilgrimage has never been stronger. Is it worth the trip?
Today, like many of these locales, Sedona’s main strip brims with shops selling “Native jewelry” and “mystical stones,” each promising a shortcut to wholeness—though most are made in China and haven’t been touched by anyone Indigenous or even local to Sedona other than shop keepers and tourists. Most of these places have become “Disney-fied;” clichés of whatever they were a thousand years ago.
But, you know what? I’ve concluded something. I’m not sure it matters. Whether we’re duped by clever marketing or genuinely moved by the hush of a desert morning, the experience is ours to interpret. The alchemy of setting, ritual, and belief can conjure magic—or at least meaning—even in the most commodified sanctuary. If being “taken” is part of the journey, perhaps the real question is what we bring home—and whether, for a moment, we felt changed.
And maybe that’s the real secret of these places—not that they change us, but that they create the conditions where change becomes possible.
The land may hold the myth. But the healing? That part is ours.
I appreciate the two sides to Sedona and still want to visit. I do love coconut
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I hope to visit Mount Shasta one day....I'm glad you're feeling better, dear Isabel!