After sharing some of my DMT experiences, a friend of mine suggested I try Kambo. “Great for cleansing the body,” as he put it.
My phone started showing me all the advertisements for plant medicine ceremonies and one of them was local to me; just 10 minutes away. A Kambo + Bufo experience.
Kambo (also called sapo) refers to the poisonous secretions of the giant leaf frog (Phyllomedusa bicolor) from the Amazon rainforest. The secretions are collected and applied to burn marks in the skin. The venom enters the bloodstream through burns made in the skin.
Justin Cooke, “What is Kambo Frog Medicine? What Are The Benefits?” Tripsitter.com
Many species of toads secrete venom through pores on their back. This venom is designed to help the animal repel predators such as birds, dogs, snakes, or other animals. In most cases, the venom has a potent bitter flavor, a pungent aroma, and may contain toxic compounds.
One species of toad — the Colorado river toad (AKA the Sonoran desert toad) — takes a different approach. This toad secretes a powerful combination of the psychedelic compounds 5-MeO-DMT and bufotenin.
[…]
Toad venom can be vaped or smoked to produce powerful psychedelic experiences. The effects are on the same level of intensity as ayahuasca or synthetic forms of DMT — only they appear much more quickly.
Ayahuasca gradually brings you into the psychedelic realm — helping you warm up to the experience and introducing you slowly to a world you never would have even thought possible.
Psychedelic toad venom doesn’t wait. It injects you directly into this world in a matter of seconds.
Justin Cooke, “Psychoactive Toad Venom (Bufo Alvarius)” Tripsitter.com
I seem to have lost all reservations about using plant medicines for trauma healing, so why not add some frogs and toads into the mix as well?
I wasn’t positive that I was ready for the Kambo portion; how would it affect my health with my Mercury poisoning was a big unknown for me. I figured the Bufo would be similar to other DMT experiences I’ve had (boy was I in for a surprise!).
I messaged my friend Steven, “hey, I know we were gonna go to a museum on Saturday but would you want to do this ceremony with me instead?” and impressively he was all in!
The setup was really lovely, outside on mats and blankets. Very peaceful, and the others attending were all so wonderful.
We were offered Rapé in the beginning and I signed on. I didn’t really know what that experience would be like but I didn’t feel any resistance to it; but was told it would be helpful for grounding before the Kambo.
Two women went before me, it’s a sort of powdered snuff that’s blown into each nostril. When it hit my nostril it was a very intense, but not so much painful feeling. I felt like I couldn’t breath for a few seconds, my lungs were seized. Then back to being okay, and getting a dose in my other nostril with the same feeling again.
It took a few minutes before the effects began to hit me and I felt light-headed. My legs were straight out in front of me and I collapsed at my waist with my hands forwards on the ground. My head nearly touching the blanket over my legs.
It felt like I was being pulled into the earth, my arms and hands becoming very cold. I tried sitting up a little but I wasn’t able to bring my body with my thoughts, I’d lost connection with my muscles for a bit.
I just embraced the feelings I had with it; I didn’t feel fear or any sort of negative emotions. I found myself saying, “thank you, thank you, thank you” quietly with my face hovering just centimeters above the blanket.
When I opened my eyes I felt like I’d never had such sharp vision in my life. Everything was magnified, I could see every individual blanket fiber and the colors were so vibrant.
Finally, I sat up and placed my hands flat against the ground next to my sides, swaying gently side to side. Looking up to the sky periodically, running my hands along my legs.
The effects didn’t last very long and I was back to normal within what felt like a few minutes.
Then it was time to drink lots of water in preparation for the Kambo, to be sure the body would be able to purge anything it needed to.
The Kambo starts with burning small dots into the skin, to break the skin barrier so the poison has a way into the body. The burning was not so much painful as surprising. Like a little jolt of electricity. Mine were placed along my upper spine where I don’t have any tattoos.
Almost immediately I noticed that the pattern of my blanket was moving to the beat of the music playing. And then I started feeling very, very hot. “Is my face turning red?” I asked them, and they confirmed, “yeah, a little bit.”
I wondered if I might be having an allergic reaction to it. It felt like times when I had a bad histamine reaction to foods. First my ears get really red then hot, then my whole face and down my neck. This was similar at first, but eventually it felt like my whole face might be inflated like a birthday balloon.
Then my throat felt like it was tightening up. “Oh, wouldn’t it just be awful if I had an anaphylactic reaction to this and had to be carried off in an ambulance,” I thought to myself. Trying to keep fear and panic away from my mind, I focused on breathing slowly and methodically.
I could feel the desire to vomit crawling up my throat, but it just wouldn’t make an entrance to the party. I leaned forward and placed my forehead against the top edge of my vomit bucket. Then I realized blocking the light from my eyes made the experience easier so eventually I covered them completely with my hands.
I thought about intentionally making myself vomit by putting a finger down my throat, just to get it over and help this poor frog along but I stopped myself. I wasn’t here to force anything, just to experience what the medicine offered me.
And then I felt my intestines moving. “Oh no, I might shit my pants, I might actually poop myself right here,” I realized.
I focused my mind on relaxing my guts, willing them to behave. This worked for a time, until it didn’t and they started acting up again.
Jay, who was leading the ceremony, stopped round just then, “how are you doing?”
“I’m pretty sure I need to go to the bathroom, but I don’t think I’ll make it,” I said. I knew I would not be able to get up and walk on my own, I would be too off balance.
He took the Kambo off my back then helped me to the restroom where I thoroughly purged my guts into the toilet. Beyond grateful at the timing of it all.
Within 10 minutes I was back to normal, almost like nothing at all had happened.
I drank some electrolytes I had brought with, and lathered on some face cream which felt amazing after my balloon-face deflated.
We chatted amongst ourselves for a little while before starting a meditation session. Followed by practicing some breath techniques that would help us take in the Bofu.
Jay asked if I wanted to go first, since I had the most experience of the group with smoking DMT and could help give an example of how to inhale it properly. “Absolutely!” I was excited to go first.
I really, really regret that I didn’t think to record my Bofu session. It didn’t even cross my mind, I was so involved with the ceremony itself.
We went one at a time, so we could be properly taken care of and kept safe. To be watched over and helped if we were to vomit, or our breathing become poor, or anything else.
I got up and walked to the center of the yard where there were pillows laid out as a bed and sat down. Jay helped administer the Bofu (you smoke it).
The first hit and the sky started dancing around in swirling patterns. The second hit and I could feel my body becoming bright white light so I laid back with my arms spread out, palms up and fingers spread.
I remember seeing white light, and there are some very distant hazy impressions of what I may have seen, but nothing distinct. Nothing clear. Like I fell into a bucket of whiteness.
And then I opened my eyes and Jay was standing over me saying hello, welcome back to earth.
I figured I was out for a few minutes, not moving, not doing anything. A quiet nap in the yard.
I was very surprised to hear them tell me I vomited quite a lot almost immediately and was very outwardly expressive. Moving and making noises. That I, “cried from the depths of my soul” for a little while. Steven told me at some point I rolled over onto my stomach with my arms out in front of me, looking up at the sky with my eyes wide open and yelling in a way.
When I talked to him more about it I recounted some times when I’d done DMT and found myself making this sort of vibrating “ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha” noise while pushing all the air out of my lungs very strongly. “Oh yeah, that’s what it sounded like!” he said.
At some point I put my hands out in front of me, looking from one to the other saying, “oh wow! Oh wow!” and laughing.
I wonder where I went and what I saw or felt.
As the others went one-by-one through their Bofu session, some also vomited in the beginning, but after that they laid quietly until they woke up. They each recounted a fairly distinct visual experience that was incredible.
I sat wondering a little bit, “what did I do wrong for not remembering anything?”
Unlike my other DMT sessions, I had this sort of numbness come over me, more disconnected from my body than previously. I figured maybe I would have some kind of resurgence later on or even when I laid down to go to sleep; that the memories would flood back to me.
But as the day went on I started to realize that whatever happened in that realm this time was permanently lost to me.
I was still immensely grateful for the whole experience and this must just be part of my healing process. One step in the road.
Steven and I got something to eat and I realized I was very tired and should maybe get a little sleep. I rested at home for a bit, then went to the gym to take a shower — it had been a solid week and after the Kombo and vomiting it was time to scrub the filth off of me.
I laid in bed to go to sleep and still felt nothing. Admittedly, I took a small vape of DMT; not enough to be rocketed into outer space. Curled up I said, “please, please, show me what happened today. Show me where I went and what I did. Show me, please.”
And for what felt like eternity I experienced an odd journey of forgetting I even existed before being assaulted with endless visuals. Patterned boxes spiraling through space traveling directly into my face.
I found myself fighting against them, mentally. Saying out loud, “all of this is just a distraction, this isn’t what I asked for, why won’t you show me?”
I woke up at some point, wide awake, then closed my eyes and was able to will myself back into that space and then breaking down crying, “why won’t you show me? I want to see.” Crying myself to sleep.
I sleep quite profoundly. I know I dreamt but only the last one stuck.
I dreamt I was attending another ceremony. But in this one we were going around the room asking each person to tell the group, in detail, their story. What happened in their lives to bring them to this point. What were they trying to heal.
And it came around to me and I started telling my story from the beginning, from my earliest childhood memories. Tying together this sort of bigger picture, these interconnected threads.
I woke up but continued laying there, talking out loud telling my story to absolutely nobody except myself. Crying with abandon at many places, telling things I’ve never spoken out loud. Feeling emotions I had buried so so long ago. I talked for several hours, eyes closed, flat out in bed.
Even talking about sleeping in my car and ending up here in California.
When I was done I sat up and finally felt the rawness we were told at the ceremony would likely come. I guess I had a delayed fuse, or the small DMT hit at bedtime helped push me over the edge.
I hid out for the day, trying to process the emotions sitting at the surface. It’s a difficult place for me to exist; I bottled up my emotions for so long to survive. And escaping survival mode still feels dangerous.
I definitely plan to do more Bofu ceremonies in the future (and remember to record it next time!), and I felt like I got a lot out of the experience. Being surrounded by so many lovely people, working on their own healing and supporting one another, I’ve made some new lifelong friends.
Now, back to reality.
