Pipe Teachings (It's a Business, Babe)
Chapter 49 of Neophyte: My Life In A Sex Cult
This is a chapter within my memoir, Neophyte, about my time in a harmful cult called the Deer Tribe Metis Medicine Society. It is not meant to be read as a stand-alone post. To view all book chapters, click here.
The Deer Tribe is a dangerous cult. While they present themselves as a spiritual community offering healing and empowerment, their practices are rooted in manipulation, control, and cultural appropriation. Like many cults, they offer moments of genuine connection and personal insight — but these are strategically used to gain trust and draw people deeper into a harmful system. Readers are encouraged to read the entire book before forming opinions about the Deer Tribe.
Chapter 49
A text message flashed across my screen: Can you talk today? I’d like to address proper medicine gifting protocol for pipe teachings.
The message was from Maya Bishop, a Phoenix-based woman I had known for several years. When it came to the medicine and life in general, she was a rockstar. Although only a few years older than me, she was already a Sacred Pipe Carrier, held an advanced position in IT security, owned a home, and was a Quodoushka intern, which was one step up from neophyte.
Nervously, I contemplated my reply. It was Friday afternoon, and I sat outside, savoring the crisp January air while lounging in my teak recliner, which was one of the few pieces of furniture I owned. I didn’t want to have this conversation at the end of my work week, but I knew I’d feel unsettled until I heard what she had to say.
Yes. When?
How about now?
Okay.
A moment later, my phone rang. “Hey, how’s it going?” Maya’s tone was friendly and calm, and we exchanged life updates for a few minutes before she got down to business.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to bring this up for a while. Going forward, I need our energy exchange for the pipe teachings I give you to be balanced. I spent six hours editing the notes you sent me and gave you a two-hour pipe teaching when I visited Texas two summers ago. That’s eight hours of my time, and in return, you gave me chocolate and five dollars cash.”
I nearly collapsed with shame as I listened to her describe the imbalance between us.
“Yeah, of course. I understand.” My throat felt tight, my voice squeaky.
“Just keep in mind that this is work for me. I’m dedicating my time to you just like I do for my job. I don’t expect you to pay my regular employment rate, which is sixty-five to seventy-five dollars an hour, but if you’re going to gift me cash, I think it should be twenty dollars an hour. And it doesn’t have to be cash. I know it can be tough to come up with gift ideas. One thing I do is ask my teachers what they need. Annika is my pipe teacher, and I always do this with her. Sometimes, she just needs me to pick up light bulbs or batteries from Home Depot, which I pay for, of course. We could work out a similar arrangement. For example, you could run errands for me for an hour or watch my son while I go to the chiropractor or get a facial. Does that make sense?”
Yes, it made sense. I recalled that summer two years ago when I drove forty-five minutes to her hotel in Dallas for a pipe teaching. When I offered her the tobacco, chocolate, and cash, she had taken it gruffly without a word. Something had felt off about her demeanor, but I forced myself to brush it aside, not wanting to project my own emotional state onto her. “Projection” was another faux pas in the Deer Tribe, and I was actively trying to overcome that tendency. Apparently, in the case with Maya, my intuition had been correct.
After we hung up, our conversation replayed in my mind like an unwanted loop. I felt humiliated and defensive, exposed as a tightwad, overwhelmed with shame. I truly didn’t want to be cheap, but my medicine expenses were quickly surpassing my income.
My salary the previous year never reached the promised $70,000. I was shocked to discover that I had netted only $45,000. The trucking industry, it turns out, is an “old boys' club,” and no matter how hard I worked, my prospects almost always gave their business to a man. After covering rent, groceries, phone, gas, student loans, utilities, and setting aside what I needed for SunDance, Red Lodge, my annual apprenticeship dues, Quodoushka gifts for the instructors, sweat lodge gifts, Book of Life readings, and medicine materials, there was hardly anything left. I had given her literally all I had, and it still wasn’t enough.
My thoughts drifted to other expenses, like the annual APA readings we just had to do to gain insight into our self-development across five aspects: emotional, mental, physical, spiritual, and sexual. Only Linda Clarke and Catrina Novak were qualified to do these readings, and their sessions cost $150 a pop. Last year, I paid for one after Ruth assured me it would measure my progress and give me an energetic boost. I handed over my cash and got my reading with Linda. She required me to strip naked so she could observe my energy body while I did an intense form of breathing calisthenics. I didn’t notice any positive changes in my life as a result.
Something about the Path was starting to repulse me. I felt disturbed and confused, but I pushed those feelings aside. My investment went far beyond money. My marriage, my friendships, my whole world were tied to the Deer Tribe. If I stepped away, I feared everything in my life would fall apart.
I walked inside and took in our tiny, sparsely furnished apartment. Matthew and I had been living there for six months. Ruth had given us an old loveseat soon after we moved in. Tori had given me the teak chair and matching ottoman. We slept on an air mattress and ate our meals on the floor, using a cardboard box as a table.
A flash of anger shifted my thoughts. It had been Maya’s idea to review my pipe notes, not mine, and she had never once mentioned how long it took her to complete the task. If she had certain expectations for medicine gifting, why had she volunteered so much of her time without informing me of what she would require as an energy exchange?
Silver was the one who had taught me about the medicine gifting protocol for pipe teachings. “All that’s required is a tobacco offering. It can be a pouch, a single cigarette, or just a pinch wrapped in red cloth. Anything beyond that is optional.” So, who was right? I decided to consult with Tori since she was on the pipe testing team. Who would know better than she?
The following weekend, I got my opportunity. Tori had called a meeting for those of us planning to assist with the Red Lodge program. When the meeting ended, I stayed behind to discuss the topic.
“My pipe teacher says she wants twenty dollars an hour in cash for teachings. She also said I could run errands or do childcare instead. I’m confused because I’ve always been taught that medicine gifting comes from the heart and shouldn’t have a set price or specific suggestions. I just want to get clear on this.”
Tori listened with a frown on her face.
“Who is your pipe teacher?”
“Maya Bishop.”
She nodded, as if my news wasn’t a surprise.
“Well, it’s definitely against protocol to set prices, and even offering suggestions is a slippery slope.”
“Silver was my first pipe teacher, and he told me all that is required is a tobacco offering.”
“Well, that’s traditional, so technically it’s not incorrect. But life has evolved. Our world is now structured in such a way that material and financial gifting is necessary. In the past, shamans would be cared for by the entire village. Today, medicine teachers have to make a living, which is why we encourage medicine gifting in addition to tobacco. Still, she shouldn’t be setting specific amounts or making those kinds of requests.”
“Well, I don’t want to work with her anymore. Would you be my pipe teacher?”
“Of course.”
“What do I need to do? Do I need to inform the office?”
“No, just let Maya know that you’ll be working with a different teacher. The office will learn of the change when you take your pipe test.”
When I got home, I sent Maya an email. “I just want to let you know that moving forward, I’ll be working with a different pipe teacher. Thank you for your support.”
Minutes later, I received her reply. “I am confused, as I thought we had worked everything out and we were clean and clear. If this is about gifting, I really would like to work it out with you. I am an incredibly giving person who volunteers lots of time and tithing. While I told you what I feel is a fair energy exchange, I am totally open to working out a different arrangement. Can you come over tomorrow to discuss this further? I have time between my facial at 11 and my massage at 3. I would have preferred a phone call or meeting to receive this kind of news, but I have compassion for you as you learn to navigate conflict and confrontation.”
I didn’t want to have this conversation with Maya. Her message left me reeling, especially the last sentence where she called me out for avoiding confrontation. The ability to confront effectively was a sign of maturity and character refinement on the Sweet Medicine SunDance Path, but even after eight years on the Path, I still struggled with it.
The problem was that confrontations were rarely well-received by members of the Deer Tribe, especially those in positions of authority. With most leaders I encountered, it felt impossible to question their reflections or say no to their requests. The Deer Tribe’s gateway process was a journey of evolution; the further you advanced, the more mature you were said to be. So who were we to question them? Whenever anyone did, they were often labeled as being in “resistance” or “pity,” or caught up in “personality and events,” or distracted by “egoic activity.” After years of seeing lower-ranking members get shut down, just the thought of confronting anyone filled me with dread.
The more I thought about having a conversation with Maya, the higher my stress levels climbed. But stress is a choice, something Linda once called “piss poor choreography.” So, in this case, I chose denial. I went back to my email and replied to Maya, assuring her that my decision had nothing to do with medicine gifting and that switching teachers was something I needed to do for myself. I told her I loved her, but couldn’t make it this weekend because I was feeling unwell and needed to recover from work. For the next hour, we went back and forth with emails as she pushed for a conversation. After a few reassurances and a vague promise that we could talk soon, she let the matter drop.
Seeking relief, I turned on some music and reached for my pipe, already filled with a California strain of indica. I lit the bowl, took a hit, and felt the familiar sensation of serenity envelop me. As my doubts and worries receded from my mind, I reminded myself of the words I had heard countless times over the years: Your dreams could be just one ceremony away.
Go to Chapter 50.