Dave Beal and the Brain Power Wellness Controversy

A New Program in the Classroom

When Brain Power Wellness (BPW) was introduced at my New York City public school, it seemed harmless—maybe even inspiring. The program, now used in hundreds of NYC schools, promised to help children focus, build confidence, and develop empathy through “brain exercises.” My principal paid roughly $30,000 for the package. That number came from a colleague, but even without documentation, it sounded plausible given the program’s scale and branding.

BPW’s activities fell under uplifting categories—Team Building, Mindfulness, Neuroplasticity, and Citizenship. Students practiced breathing routines, partner stretches, and rhythmic counting games that blended meditation with movement. “Brain tapping,” a gentle tapping of the body to release tension, was a signature technique.

When our school’s BPW coordinator—an upbeat staffer named Jane—asked for volunteers to become certified “Brain Power Leaders,” I was intrigued. I’ve always believed in mindfulness and emotional regulation for children, so the opportunity to train others sounded perfect. I agreed without hesitation.

Training the “Brain Power Leaders”

Over the next few months, I attended three professional-development workshops held on Wednesdays. The sessions were meant to train us to lead BPW practices back at our schools.

At first, everything seemed normal. We practiced the same activities our students would do: breathing together, positive affirmations, group stretches. But as the workshops went on, things started feeling… different. There was an almost evangelical tone to the sessions.

We were constantly told to smile wider, clap harder, and shout affirmations louder. One exercise, the “Brain Power Bakery,” involved pairing up and pretending to knead our partner’s back like cookie dough. Another had us chant “I am amazing!” while jumping in unison. The atmosphere was cheerful—but uncomfortably forced.

That’s when I met Dave Beal, the founder and national director of Brain Power Wellness, author of The Brain Power Classroom. Beal’s presentation style reminded me of a motivational preacher. He shouted call-and-response slogans—“Kids can’t learn when they don’t feel loved, right?”—and dozens of teachers echoed back “Right!” in perfect unison.

The devotion to this charismatic male leader gave me pause. It was the first moment I thought: This feels a little cult-ish. Still, I told myself not to overreact. After all, these were teachers, not zealots. And I was getting professional-development hours—plus a free lunch.

The Catskills “Leadership Retreat”

In February, BPW invited me to a three-day Leadership Training Retreat in the Catskills. The event promised outdoor activities, mindfulness sessions, and free lodging at the Honor’s Haven Resort & Spa. My school would cover travel and food.

It sounded like a paid vacation in nature, so I agreed. Along with about forty other NYC teachers, I boarded the bus to the mountains.

At first, the retreat delivered exactly what it advertised. We hiked forest trails, meditated near waterfalls, and practiced teaching BPW games. The resort had hot tubs and saunas—perfect for an overworked teacher. But then, the “wellness” sessions took a strange turn.

During a Self-Care Workshop, we rotated through healing “stations.” One station had us poke our belly buttons with plastic sticks to “stimulate the gut.” Another required smacking our arms and legs while hopping in place to “release blocked energy.” There were chants, laughter, and a lot of pseudo-scientific explanations.

Still, I kept an open mind. People do stranger things in the name of wellness—jade rollers, crystal healing, sound baths. Maybe this was just another quirky mindfulness technique.

Discovering the Dahn Yoga Connection

That night, while soaking in the resort’s hot tub, a fellow teacher shared a discovery. He’d googled Honor’s Haven Resort and found that it had long-standing ties to an organization called Dahn Yoga—a group accused of cult practices in the 2000s.

Apparently, Dahn Yoga had been linked to lawsuits involving financial coercion, emotional manipulation, and even wrongful death. One of the most notorious cases involved a CUNY professor who died during a Dahn Yoga retreat in Sedona, Arizona.

Curiosity piqued, I pulled out my phone and searched “Honor’s Haven Resort Dahn Yoga.” Sure enough, multiple articles confirmed the connection. The resort was indeed affiliated with the Dahn Yoga network and its founder, Ilchi Lee. I brushed it off at first—maybe the resort just rented space to the group years ago. But the seed of doubt was planted.

“Brain Education” and the 120 Steps

The following morning, our group climbed a long wooden staircase—120 steps—to a meditation platform. Dave Beal explained that this monument was built for Ilchi Lee, a Korean spiritual teacher who wrote I’ve Decided to Live 120 Years.

Then Beal casually mentioned that Ilchi Lee was also the founder of Body & Brain, the parent company of Brain Power Wellness.

Something clicked. If BPW’s parent company was Body & Brain—and Body & Brain was formerly Dahn Yoga—then we weren’t just at a mindfulness retreat. We were training inside the infrastructure of a rebranded cult.

During the hike back down, I compared notes with another skeptical teacher. She’d already done her research and was convinced BPW was simply Dahn Yoga repackaged for schools—new name, Western spokesperson, same ideology.

A quick Google search confirmed it. Body & Brain and Dahn Yoga were interchangeable terms on Wikipedia. Major outlets—Forbes, CNN, Rolling Stone, Glamour—had all reported on Dahn Yoga’s alleged cult behavior, including sexual abuse and financial exploitation. The organization had since rebranded, softening its language and expanding into corporate wellness and school programs.

Signs of a Rebrand

Back at Honor’s Haven, the clues were everywhere. One large studio had a padded floor and a “no shoes” policy—identical to Body & Brain centers described on Yelp. In a storage closet, I noticed bins labeled Dahn Yoga Equipment.

Online reviews painted the same picture: countless former members accusing Body & Brain studios of pressuring them into costly memberships and “energy healing” packages worth thousands of dollars. The reviews described emotional manipulation disguised as self-improvement—eerily similar to what I was witnessing, just toned down for teachers.

It wasn’t just the studio design or the rituals—it was the ideology. The constant insistence on positivity, the group chanting, the blind reverence for leadership. These weren’t red flags anymore; they were flashing neon signs.

Digging deeper, I found that Dave Beal had tried to introduce this same program—then called Power Brain—into NYC schools back in 2009. It had been rejected after media scrutiny over Dahn Yoga’s cult connections. Over a decade later, “Power Brain” had been quietly rebranded as “Brain Power,” reversing the words but keeping the same content.

The Hidden Network

The deeper I dug, the more connections emerged. Dave Beal’s book The Brain Power Classroom openly cites Ilchi Lee’s “Brain Education” philosophy as its foundation. Body & Brain’s own website listed BPW as an affiliated organization.

Honor’s Haven, the resort we were staying at, was reportedly managed by Ilchi Lee’s son, Julian Lee. The resort also hosted training programs for Earth Citizens Organization (ECO), another Ilchi Lee entity. Photos from ECO’s website even showed some of the same instructors—like Jane, the BPW representative at my school—leading similar exercises years earlier under different brand names.

In short, BPW wasn’t a grassroots mindfulness nonprofit; it was part of a sprawling web of organizations founded by Ilchi Lee. The rebrand was deliberate. They’d hidden the lineage, replaced the Korean leadership with American faces, and targeted public-school systems under the banner of “mindfulness education.”

From a marketing perspective, it was brilliant. From an ethical standpoint, it was deeply unsettling.

Cult Tactics in Disguise

Looking back, the signs of cult-like manipulation were unmistakable. The charismatic leader. The emotionally charged rhetoric. The “love and positivity” mantra that discouraged questioning authority.

Dahn Yoga, according to former members, relied on high-pressure tactics—convincing followers they needed expensive workshops to “awaken their energy.” BPW’s teacher training didn’t involve money beyond the initial school payment, but the emotional tactics were the same: repetitive chanting, exaggerated praise for leadership, subtle guilt for non-participation.

Even the exercises—body-tapping, shouting affirmations, “belly-button healing”—came directly from Dahn Yoga manuals. These weren’t evidence-based mindfulness techniques; they were pseudoscientific rituals framed as neuroscience.

The more I learned, the more unnerved I felt. I wasn’t just concerned for myself but for the hundreds of NYC schools unknowingly exposing children to a rebranded cult program.

Connecting the Dots

By the time I returned to the city, I had compiled a web of connections:

• Brain Power Wellness is owned by Body & Brain, previously Dahn Yoga.
• All were founded by Ilchi Lee, a Korean spiritual leader accused of cult practices.
• Dave Beal, BPW’s director, is a former Dahn Yoga instructor.
• The Catskills resort used for BPW retreats is managed by Ilchi Lee’s son.
• BPW instructors have long histories with other Ilchi Lee organizations like ECO and Power Brain Education.

Every link pointed to the same conclusion: the organization had simply changed its name and strategy to target new demographics—this time, children and teachers.

The School’s Response

The day after I returned, I informed my administrators about what I’d discovered. They responded cautiously, saying they would “look into it.” Whether that meant anything, I wasn’t sure.

I worried what would happen if I refused to continue the program. Would Jane—the BPW coordinator—start asking uncomfortable questions? Would my principal insist we continue using BPW because we’d already paid for it?

Most disturbingly, I wondered how many educators were unknowingly becoming promoters for a system built on deception. Teachers were being used as trusted conduits to introduce these practices to students.

And, with over 400 NYC schools already involved, pulling the program entirely would be messy and expensive.

Reflections on Mindfulness and Manipulation

On the surface, Brain Power Wellness promotes kindness, focus, and empathy—values no teacher would oppose. That’s what makes it dangerous. The program wraps cultic ideology in the language of mindfulness and neuroscience, exploiting educators’ desire to help students.

If BPW were merely quirky or ineffective, it would be forgettable. But its roots in a documented pattern of coercion and pseudoscience make it a serious ethical concern. The rebranding of Dahn Yoga into Body & Brain and then into Brain Power Wellness shows how easily questionable organizations can reinvent themselves for new markets.

The real tragedy is that the program could have succeeded honestly. If it had been transparent about its origins and based on credible psychology, schools might have embraced it openly. Instead, it chose secrecy.

Where Things Stand

As of now, Brain Power Wellness continues to operate in hundreds of schools nationwide. Ilchi Lee’s organizations still promote “Brain Education” around the world. And while most of the exercises are harmless, the lack of transparency remains troubling.

For me, the experience was a wake-up call. I learned to question where “wellness” programs come from and to research who benefits financially and ideologically. Just because something is branded as “mindful” doesn’t mean it’s benign.

When enthusiasm turns to unquestioning devotion, and when a program discourages skepticism, that’s when it crosses the line from wellness to worship.

Final Thoughts

If there’s one lesson I took from this experience, it’s this: trust your instincts. When something feels “off”—even in the world of education and self-improvement—it probably is.

Brain Power Wellness may present itself as a modern, science-based program for schools, but beneath the smiles, chants, and “positive energy,” it carries the DNA of a group long accused of manipulation and control.

Written by

Nancy Drew

Updated

3 months ago