Every February, for the past three years, I’ve attended something called the Conscious Life Expo. The best way I can describe the 24-year-old wellness conference is that it’s the woo-est of the woo, a wacky marketplace of fringe spiritual beliefs, alien conspiracy theories, and bombastic healing modalities that cohabitate under harsh fluorescent lights in the carpeted expanse of the LAX Hilton. My tradition started after I assigned a writer to go when I was editing the wellness section…

