On a crisp March morning in 2018, I found myself captivated by the shimmering white Arizona sycamores while trekking along a bubbling creek in a Sedona canyon. The vibrant greens of the juniper trees added a striking contrast to the scenery. As I continued my hike, I encountered cheerful Elderhostel seniors making their way towards me.

Suddenly, a spirited couple dashed past, hand in hand, with the man blasting Disturbed’s rendition of “The Sound of Silence” from his iPhone. Had it not been for the loud music, we might have truly appreciated the serenity of the moment.

During my visit, I stopped by a Sedona crystal shop, contemplating my place in the universe. Small stones were neatly arranged in glass trays, each accompanied by descriptions of their purported benefits. Peacock Ore, resembling a tiny meteorite, was said to ward off negative energies, while Serpentine, with its soft yellow hue, promised a connection to nature. The bright yellow stones known as Citron claimed to alleviate feelings of depression and loneliness.

The vast selection sparked a flurry of questions in my mind. Am I experiencing inner conflict? Do I crave excitement or positivity? Are my emotions in need of soothing? Am I feeling isolated or restless? Each inquiry seemed to call for a different crystal.

Amidst the multitude of solutions, I pondered what issue I was truly addressing. Perhaps I should begin by acquiring the jade-like Chrysoprase, known for clarifying dilemmas, to better understand what I needed next.

Paths toward self-fulfillment often mirror societal trends. Recently, one author cautioned about a “polyamorous tech bro cult leader” gaining traction in Sedona. An article in Rolling Stone described him as “The Instagram Guru ‘F-king’ his Followers to Freedom,” alleging that Bentinho Massaro had brainwashed his most loyal devotees. However, my explorations in Sedona led me to believe that such sensational narratives might obscure the reality.

Massaro, a young, strikingly attractive man with blond hair and aquamarine eyes, labels himself a “renowned spiritual teacher” whose teachings aim to elevate and empower individuals. He invites those seeking deeper self-understanding to join him on this journey.

Until a few years back, he hosted live retreats in Sedona.

Brent Wilkins, a tall, light-haired Virginia Tech graduate, exuded the charm of a collegiate athlete. While studying, he sought answers to life’s questions, immersing himself in the works of figures like Deepak Chopra and Eckhart Tolle.

After graduation, Wilkins settled near Washington, D.C., working as a tennis coach at a country club. In 2014, he attended a retreat led by Massaro in North Carolina, where he stated, “I fell in love with everything and everybody. Life started coming through me.”

Wilkins resigned from his job and relocated to Boulder, Colorado, where Massaro was based. Over the next two years, he grew increasingly close to Massaro, distancing himself from his family and rejecting help from a cult-extraction specialist his parents had hired.

As Massaro prepared to shift his operations to Sedona, an unexplained rift occurred between him and Wilkins, leading the latter to return to his parents’ home in Richmond, Virginia.

Wilkins faced severe anxiety and depression, ultimately agreeing to consult a psychiatrist during his visit home. He expressed feelings of overwhelming fear and suicidal thoughts, spending a week in a psychiatric facility before his release.

When I visited the wooded neighborhood in Sedona where Massaro had resided, I found his home unexpectedly unassuming. Despite its modesty, Massaro harbored grand ambitions, claiming that his “Sedona Experiments” would transform the area into the epicenter of enlightenment.

Massaro began to portray himself as a being endowed with divine wisdom, asserting that he could save humanity while admonishing those who questioned his teachings.

After spending six unhappy months at home, Wilkins resolved to reconnect with Massaro. He joined 150 others at the Creative Life Center for Sedona Experiment II, a 12-day retreat. Yet, rather than finding clarity, he felt lost amidst Massaro’s teachings and troubled by their fractured relationship.

The Creative Life Center had no formal ties to Massaro; it merely rented him space for the event. During my visit, I noted that the center seemed to discourage visitors.

Massaro urged participants to pursue enlightenment fervently. In a recorded statement from one retreat, he proclaimed, “Wake up to something important. Otherwise, kill yourself.”

By the time of Sedona Experiment II, whispers of cult-like practices surrounded Massaro’s venture. He appeared to embrace the label, stating, “It has no context for me; it feels so empty and meaningless. Like, okay, great, yeah, we’re a cult. It doesn’t change what we are.” The following year, he told Vice, “We are a cult. We are a Curious, Understanding, Loving Tribe.”

As reported by the Arizona Republic, he told attendees at Sedona Experiment II that he preferred the term “social memory complex,” describing a group of individuals whose consciousness would merge through shared experiences, bound by the joy of enlightenment.

One participant asked, “Will you address the savior-complex accusation?” Massaro replied, asserting that he felt an immense pressure to save the planet since childhood, which he claimed was not driven by ego but rather an overwhelming force within him that lacked adequate language for expression.

“Do I currently feel like I am the one to save this world?” he rhetorically asked. “No. I don’t.” After a moment of silence, he added, “I might still do it,” eliciting laughter from the audience and breaking the tension. Following the Q&A session, Massaro led a silent meditation.

Wilkins exited the gathering without speaking to anyone. He drove to Midgley Bridge, where Oak Creek Canyon opened into a landscape of red rock. I later spent time reflecting in that area. The pink and orange cliffs surrounded patches of greenery that resembled painted sponges from model railroads. Occasional sounds from the road disrupted the gentle flow of the creek below.

We may never know what thoughts occupied Wilkins’ mind at that moment. He hiked to the edge and jumped 200 feet into the gorge, resulting in his death. Authorities identified him via his “Sedona Experiment II” name badge.

A local detective interviewed Massaro, who downplayed his connection with Wilkins. When confronted with a video of his comments on suicide, he claimed he had been exaggerating.

Massaro was never charged with any wrongdoing. However, following Wilkins’ death, he relocated his activities away from Sedona. His teachings are now marketed through social media, including a YouTube channel, a podcast, live online sessions available via subscription, a 30-day mastery program, and a five-day “self-paced retreat,” which appears to consist of recorded live events.

In 2022, three of Massaro’s followers participated in the podcast A Little Bit Culty, claiming that his practices were more than a little cult-like.

They revealed insights into the organization’s functioning. Massaro conducted “distortion readings,” where participants were encouraged to criticize each other’s flaws. He urged followers to sever ties with friends and family and promoted extended fasting. As an openly polyamorous individual, he invited women to become his partners, sometimes framing these encounters as therapeutic experiences to resolve past traumas. He would often assert that women who resisted his advances were “too masculine” and needed to surrender. Many complied. In an interview with Rolling Stone, he denied coercing women into sexual encounters.

One follower claimed that Massaro fixated on regulating women’s weights. An ex-girlfriend recounted that he refused to engage sexually unless she lost weight, stating that women accumulated toxins in their fat cells. Massaro later explained to Rolling Stone that when he presented women with images of thin models, it was merely an exploration of style. However, he acknowledged that this approach was “ignorant and naive” and insensitive to women’s body image concerns.

Despite having read victims' accounts online, hearing their stories on the podcast led to vivid nightmares that night, a rarity for me.

When criticism of Massaro surfaces online, it appears swiftly suppressed by his adept followers. Nonetheless, it is easy to uncover reports detailing his assertions of superhuman abilities, claims of controlling the weather, instances of verbally degrading his followers, recommendations for fasting during retreats, and the familiar tactic of reframing negative outcomes as positive.

The tumultuous interplay between spirituality and commercialization has led to tragic outcomes more frequently than we might recognize.

Sedona is indeed a mystical locale. Yet, its breathtaking beauty has a shadowy counterpart: individuals who exploit those seeking self-improvement, ultimately leading to devastating consequences. The heartbreaking losses of Julia Siverls, Kirby Brown, and Brent Wilkins serve as reminders of how we can all safeguard ourselves from predatory influences.

While physically demanding experiences can build confidence, they necessitate skilled guidance rather than enthusiastic novices. Collective spiritual endeavors can bring fulfillment, but they should not replace professional mental health care, especially for those grappling with depression.

Cult expert Rick Ross characterizes destructive cults by three key traits: an authoritarian leader, coercive indoctrination, and the infliction of harm. Many workplaces operate under the guidance of charismatic leaders, and employment inherently involves some degree of coercion. Numerous organizations—whether profit-driven, non-profit, or political—can harm their employees, communities, or the environment. Yet, we seldom label them as cults.

Ginny Brown, mother of Kirby, founded the nonprofit Seek Safely to educate participants in self-help programs and establish professional standards. Her organization highlights two red flags to watch for at events: last-minute required waivers and physical challenges without medical oversight. Environments with freezing temperatures, loud music, and a pep-rally atmosphere may signal danger.

Seek Safely warns that the most perilous scenarios arise when heightened emotional experiences coincide with sensory deprivation. Rigid schedules that allow little time for self-reflection, insufficient sleep, inadequate breaks, and locked doors should all raise concerns. Guided meditations or breathing techniques that create confusion or disorientation, alongside encouragement of intense emotional disclosures, are potential warning signs.

Furthermore, Seek Safely advocates for a critical assessment of speakers. Is their credibility solely based on testimonials and grand claims? Do they dismiss education and professional qualifications? Do they obscure the distinctions between opinion, speculation, and scientific research? Is it challenging to pose questions to them?

The next wave of cults may not even necessitate physical presence. Manipulative, sociopathic leaders can exploit social media platforms, employing gamification and algorithms to foster widespread self-destructive behaviors that financially benefit them. This scenario bears striking resemblance to the cryptocurrency landscape.

My experiences in Sedona, exploring the purported healing powers of crystals, have led me to suggest a remedy for those who might misuse social media. Shungite could serve as a truth serum, Blue Lace Agate may help establish healthy boundaries, and Obsidian is said to block negative energies. I recommend they wear these stones as necklaces or bracelets daily.

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