Recruiting My Mother Into A Sex Cult
Chapter 25 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 25
To clear my karma, I realized I needed to forgive my mother.
I hadn’t seen or spoken to her since our fallout at my college graduation four years earlier. After that day, I was so angry and hurt that I stopped calling her, and she never attempted to contact me either.
Our culture doesn’t make it easy to be estranged from a parent. It’s an inevitable topic in social situations. Do your parents live close? What do they do for a living? Will you be visiting them for the holidays?
As a child of divorce, I was used to explaining that my mom lived in one state and my dad in another. But now, I faced another choice. Do I reveal the truth, or do I just smile, nod, and pretend everything is fine?
Whenever someone asked about my mom, I tensed up, unsure of what to say. Usually, I just blurted out, “We aren’t on speaking terms,” which probably made everyone feel awkward.
But one day, Silver challenged me.
“Are you really going to keep yourself prisoner to this anger forever?” he asked. “Do you really think that’s a spiritually enlightened thing to do?”
We were studying self-forgiveness in the Wednesday night class. Wanting to go deeper, I had picked up a book called The Gift of Forgiveness: A Magical Encounter with don Miguel Ruiz. Inspired by the author’s testimony, and goaded by Silver’s challenge, I decided to apply the reversal method.
It worked like this: I needed to let go of my anger toward my mom, and I could do that through a simple shift in my perspective. Rather than focus on her wrongdoings, I would acknowledge my own responsibility in the situation. I used what I learned in the book and Silver’s class to create a forgiveness meditation. Each night, I closed my eyes and imagined looking into the eyes of my mother. Over and over, I said to her, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
The process made me feel light-headed and spacey, but gradually, I felt my heart softening toward her. One day, I picked up the phone and gave her a call.
Our first conversation after four years of silence felt stilted, and I nervously chattered away as if no time had passed and nothing off had transpired between us. I told her about the sweat lodges and the profound healing I had experienced at the Ashram.
And then I asked, “Would you like to attend?”
She said yes.
When she showed up for the sweat lodge the next month, I felt hopeful and excited. I introduced her to Matthew and Silver and showed her around the Ashram. During Silver’s sweat lodge talk, I watched her face closely, feeling exhilarated and wondering if his words would have as profound an effect on her as they had on me. I felt protective of her, wanting her to receive healing and inner peace.
Because she lived an hour away, I invited her to stay the night at my place. And just like that, we resumed our relationship.
My mother became a regular at the sweat lodges, showing up each month and staying at my place. She even attended the Wednesday night class now and then. We never talked about the past or revisited the dreadful day of my graduation. All my childhood memories were carefully siloed in the deepest recesses of my mind—I never thought of them once.
After my first Quodoushka experience in Phoenix, it occurred to me that my mother, like all of us, needed sexual healing. She had been a victim of sexual abuse as a very young child, as had her mother, her grandmother, and her great-grandmother. Incest was a common occurrence in my family tree, stretching all the way back to the Civil War.
My mother was poor, and I knew it would be impossible for her to attend a Quodoushka in another state. Paying for registration, lodging, airfare, and transportation was simply out of her means. She was single and lived off social security and food stamps.
But what if she came to the Q workshop we were planning to hold in Denton? What if this was her opportunity to heal? What if the Q could transform her, releasing her from all the shame and trauma she had carried throughout her life?
Excitedly, I called Mukee. What did she think about my mom attending?
“Absolutely!” she said. “That’s a wonderful idea.”
At the next sweat lodge, I handed her a flyer and invited her to come.
Go to Chapter 26.