The Sacred and the Price Tag: How Facilitators Can Hold the Tension

In a recent post, I asked the question: is psilocybin facilitation sacred work, or just expensive? I poked at the awkward edges of this newly legal field—at the rising costs, the beautiful marketing, the quiet ceremonies happening in $900/day rooms. I questioned whether we’re building something meaningful, or just packaging spirituality for the wellness economy.

What I didn’t do—intentionally, at the time—was offer much in the way of answers.

And maybe that’s because there aren’t any neat ones. Maybe some tensions just need to be held, not solved. But also, there’s a fine line between honest inquiry and leaving your audience stranded. So let’s go a step further.

If you’re a facilitator in Oregon (or Colorado since those folks are finally really coming online) right now, you’re probably already feeling this tension in your bones. You know that what happens in the session room is real. You’ve seen it. You’ve witnessed people soften, open, collapse into themselves and reemerge different. You’ve also seen the spreadsheets, the rent, the licensing fees, and the moment when a prospective client ghosts after learning the cost.

So how do we hold the sacred while surviving the structure? How do we build integrity into a model that’s still so young and already so burdened?

Here are a few practical ways to work with the tension—without bypassing it or pretending it’s not there.

1. Be Transparent About Costs—With Yourself and Others

Don’t hide the numbers behind vague language. Own the financial reality of your practice, both internally and externally. If you’re charging $1,200 for a journey, know why. Be able to explain what goes into that cost: the prep, the integration, the space rental, your training, your time. And be honest with yourself about whether you’re padding numbers, undervaluing your labor, or reproducing pricing structures you don’t actually believe in.

Clarity doesn’t cheapen the work—it deepens trust.

2. Offer Sliding Scale or Community Days (But With Boundaries)

It’s okay to want to be accessible. It’s also okay to protect your energy and your income. You don’t need to make every session affordable for everyone. But you can create specific containers that serve people who wouldn’t otherwise have access: monthly reduced-rate days, scholarship spots, or partnerships with therapists serving marginalized communities. Just be clear about what you’re offering and how often you can sustainably offer it.

Accessibility doesn’t mean martyrdom.

3. De-Glorify the Aesthetic

Sacredness doesn’t come from the right throw pillows. If the work is real, it doesn’t need incense and shoji screens and artisan tea blends to prove its depth. If you’re renting a space with all the trappings, great—but don’t confuse that with the core offering. And if you’re working out of a modest room with fluorescent lighting and zero ambiance, that’s fine too. What matters is your presence. Your steadiness. Your attunement.

Spirituality doesn’t need a brand kit.

4. Name the Discomfort in the Room

Clients feel this tension, too. Some of them are sitting across from you wondering if they’re buying something that should be free. Some of them feel guilty for spending the money. Some feel resentful that they had to. You don’t need to resolve that for them—but you can acknowledge it. You can make space for that conversation, if it arises. You can let it be part of the integration process.

Healing doesn’t require perfection. It requires honesty.

5. Find Other Facilitators You Can Be Real With

This work is already isolating enough. You don’t have to figure all of this out on your own. Find the people you can talk with about money and meaning and marketing without judgment. Share your questions, your pricing dilemmas, your fatigue, your wins. Build a little cohort of people who are also trying to do this work with soul and strategy, not just optics and ambition.

We’re not going to solve capitalism inside one industry. But we can build practices that resist its worst habits. We can stay in conversation—with each other, with ourselves, with our clients—about what we’re really doing here. And if we keep asking the questions, even when they’re uncomfortable, we might just build something beautiful out of the mess.

Something sacred.

Even if it’s not always affordable.

Even if it doesn’t always make sense.

Even if it never quite fits the box it’s been sold in.