It's Just Your Fear Talking
Chapter 18 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 18
A part of me didn’t want to go back to the workshop on Saturday. I felt afraid, tense, withdrawn, nervous, and panicked. These feelings confused me. There was just no logical reason for me to have them. I was with my partner, Matthew, whom I loved and trusted. The teachers, Brian, Mukee, and Necea, were among the most experienced and professional instructors of sacred sexuality in the world. I should be feeling ecstatic. I should be thanking my lucky stars that I was here.
For years, I had craved inner peace. I longed to be free from the darkness that plagued my soul, from the memories of sexual traumas that filled me with shame and left my body feeling numb and disconnected. This was my opportunity, and I was afraid I was blowing it.
These feelings only got worse as the day progressed.
After the morning’s dance, Necea, Mukee, and Brian led us through a debrief of the previous night’s ceremony. How had the Body Imprint Removal shifted us? What wounds did it help us release? What pain tapes did we clear? What was it like to experience pleasure in the second part of the ceremony?
Rather than send the Talking Stick around the room, the instructors asked for participants to raise their hands when they wanted to speak. I listened to the others’ stories with growing envy and rage. Apparently, everyone had enjoyed last night’s ceremony. Everyone except me.
For one, we were required to do the ceremony in the nude. The night air was chilly, which made the house drafty, and I felt cold and uncomfortable. I also found the plucking technique to be painful. I voiced this to Matthew, who immediately softened his touch. But mere seconds later, Nikki came by and corrected him. “She says it hurts that way,” Matthew told Nikki after she demonstrated the proper technique on my body. I couldn’t hear her response above the trancy music that was playing. This was repeated several times throughout the evening. Jason or Nikki would stop by, instructing Matthew to touch me more firmly, then show him how by doing the technique on me directly before wandering off again.
By the time we got to the pleasure portion of the ceremony, I just wanted it to be over. The soft moans and groans of ecstasy around me were distracting. I couldn’t help but compare my experience to those around me. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I enjoy myself?
The Talking Stick debrief only solidified my fears. Mukee told me this ceremony would heal my trauma. I was terrified to admit that it hadn’t. What if this meant I was irreparably damaged? For the next 45 minutes, I listened as participant after participant described their epic transformation. I sat in my chair, stone-faced, angry, and impatient, willing this portion of the workshop to end.
During our lunch break, after I finished eating, I quietly slipped through the front door. The Phoenix sun shone bright in the cloudless sky, and the crisp, cool air was deliciously refreshing. Still, I felt the pressure building in my chest, and knew I could burst into tears at any moment. There was only one thing I could think of to do. I dialed Silver’s number.
Silver rarely answered his phone, which was a landline, so after his voice message greeting, at the sound of the beep, I said, “Hey Silver, it’s me…”
Immediately, Silver picked up. “Hey there. What’s up?”
Tears streamed down my face as I explained the situation. “Silver, everyone here is having healing and breakthroughs. Except me. I’m not feeling healed at all. I’m feeling blocked and tense, and extremely uncomfortable. But everyone else seems happy and transformed. Why isn’t this happening for me?” I was practically sobbing now.
“Listen, sweetie, you have to understand that this is happening for you. It’s happening in this moment right now. You are facing deep fears and old wounds. And that isn’t easy work to do. You are peeling away layers of the onion, and sometimes those layers will feel like blocks and tension. But this is the work. This is how we transform. The only way out is through. And that’s what you are doing. You are going through the healing process.”
As I listened to Silver’s words, I felt my body start to relax. I took slow, deep breaths and noticed the panicky feeling begin to fade.
“The other thing to realize is that you don’t actually know what kind of transformations the others are having. Anyone can build a three-block pyramid and climb to the top and declare themselves victorious. That’s what a lot of people do at these workshops. They get a little bit of healing, and that’s good enough for them. But you are doing deeper work than that. You are building a much taller pyramid, with a strong foundation, and that takes more time, more dedication, and it’s not going to feel as good in the moment. But when you get to the other side, you will be stronger, brighter, and more luminous. So rest assured that your healing is happening, it is coming. There is wonderful freedom waiting for you on the other side. You just have to overcome your fear. And what is fear?”
“‘False evidence appearing real,’” I quoted.
“Exactly. Fear is a big obstacle for you. But courage is feeling the fear and doing it anyway. Be the victorious warrior.”
“Okay,” I said. We ended our call, and I returned to the house feeling hopeful and at ease.
Before the teaching staff dismissed us for lunch, they announced a special treat for us. We would have a bonus dance prior to the afternoon’s teachings. The music would start at 1:30, and we were to show up on the dance floor wearing clothing that reflected our Priest or Priestess Lover’s Mask.
After lunch, I retrieved my Priestess Lover’s Mask attire. It was a stunning white dress I had found at Buffalo Exchange. The material was soft and hugged my form, accentuating the few curves that I had. The sleeves were made of white lace and stretched all the way to my wrists. All the way down each side of the dress was a strip of white, see-through lace. The bottom of the dress reached my ankles and flared out. It was my proudest find yet.
Dancing made me forget my troubles, and when we gathered in the teaching space just before two, I felt giddy and eager for whatever would come next. Brian, Necea, and Mukee were seated on the couch, and the neophytes soon joined, taking their seats slightly off to the side.
“Doesn’t it feel like we’ve all been together for a month, and that this is just what we do every day?” Mukee said with a smile.
That is exactly how it feels, I thought. Ceremony always made my boring, mundane life feel far away. How I wished I could do this every day! I began to daydream about what it would be like to run an ashram like Silver, or to travel the world like Mukee and Necea, teaching workshops and never having to report to a boss or be chained to a cubicle. I thought about some of the people I met at SunDance the previous summer, people who had been on this path for decades. They seemed happy and completely at peace with their lives. More than anything, that was what I wanted.
Startled by my wandering thoughts, I quickly pulled my attention back to the present moment. This workshop was my chance at healing, my opportunity to free myself from the wounds of my past. If I could do that, then I could do anything. Emboldened by my resolution, I cast away my doubts and commanded myself to be open, willing, and curious.
Go to Chapter 19.