KAMBO, ENTITIES, ADDICTION AND OTHER MISCELLANOUS RAVINGS.
I’ve just come back from rural Thailand where I attended a Kambo intensive (Here’s a link for those of you who don’t know what Kambo is: http://www.iakp.org/about-kambo/4584758432).
As the name suggests, a Kambo intensive involves doing a lot of Kambo in a short space of time. It was an incredible experience and as deeply healing as my most profound plant medicine journeys.
In the months prior to the Intensive, I’d become aware of a specific maladaptive pattern that ruled my life in a negative way. I would meet a particular kind of girl and become obsessively, unhealthily infatuated with them. It wasn’t even about them as individuals, it was more like they represented something to my unconscious that I felt uncontrollably drawn towards. These girls all shared a particular quality or essence that I cannot put into words, but was inextricably linked to the fact they were wounded. This was like crack to me because evidently I’m wounded too. Who the fuck isn’t? Life is traumatic.
This pattern would keep me in a negative energetic state, bring all my own wounds to the surface, and often push the girl in question away from me. Still, I could not help myself. I was like a thirsty man chasing mirages in the desert. My mind was split between the part that recognised how completely insane I was in relation to these girls and the other part of my mind would be picturing me with girl X running through fields of daisies together until we were eventually shot to death in a high speed shootout with the federal police.
Even when I did occasionally hookup with these girls, it never ended well. It was usually a manic-depressive rollercoaster ride of mostly losses, punctuated by occasional small wins that kept me chained to the cycle like a gambling addiction. Admittedly, they did inspire some entertaining writing : https://medium.com/@nicksun/freedom-through-bondage-more-bondage-part-1-c58d33b3d131.
When I became aware of this recurring pattern, I began to watch the way it moved every time it was triggered by these certain women I encountered. It was like my mind was being controlled by something that fed off my time and energy, creating all sorts of negative emotions like wanton desire and longing, the kind of unhealthy wanton desire and longing that was attached to a false light and listening to unhealthy amounts of the kind of moody electronic music that sounded like it was made on an MDMA comedown.
I began to suspect it was an entity of sorts, a parasitic energetic attachment, or at least, decided to treat it as such in order to deal with it in a personally more effective way than standard Western paradigms offered. Whatever this entity was, my attempts to dispel it by consciously banishing it with straight forward verbal commands accompanied by strong, high-pitched exhalations, only offered temporary relief that was not worth the attention I got from the people on the train thinking that I suffered from some kind of mental illness.
ENTITIES AND CAPITALISM
After the first session in my Kambo intensive, the medicine obliterated a hockey puck sized muscle mass on the back of my heart chakra. It was the entity. As I lay recovering, I suddenly was shown this pattern for what it was in relation to a certain lady I had met a few weeks previously who had triggered it.
‘You don’t have to go through this pattern again. You have a choice.’ The frog spirit told me.
I suddenly felt freed from having to walk down this path again, when previously I felt I could not avoid it, as if chained.
I pondered about this pattern that I kept entering. It seemed to elicit an unhealthy need to be needed, which pointed to an underlying lack of self-worth and feelings of not being complete without some form of validation from outside of myself. Until i resolved this, not only would every relationship i entered be doomed, but it would also interfere with future healing work.
Where the fuck did this idea that I needed something outside of myself to be complete come from? Was this a symptom of living in a capitalist society where you were constantly brainwashed from an early age into thinking you always needed something from outside of you to feel complete, in order to fuel an economy based on creating addictions that enslaved the population into keeping the whole broken machine running?
A machine perhaps run by Dark Force Entities? I pondered as I adjusted my tinfoil hat. I made a mental note not to share the entity-based speculative hypothesis publicly, like say on a personal blog of some kind, because aside from the fact that free speech was dead, I was certain it would make most people think that I was crazy.
At least you know you’re crazy, that’s what makes you saner than the people who think they’re not crazy. The Frog spirit telepathically communicated to me.
The next day I realised I could extend my spine fully. I could feel that my back was clear and the whole energetic channel had been freed. Then, despite my awareness of the pattern, I found myself lapsing into the same fantasies that involved me unfairly using the lady in question as some kind of living canvas for the projection of the imaginary antidote to my personal wound.
Within days, the lump on my back returned, this time more pissed off than ever.
I could feel it’s form re-emerge. The anchors and patterns it had left were still in me. So even though the Kambo had removed the accumulated energetic mass, what had generated it in the first place — the emotional and cognitive patterns — had remained. All that was needed was a lowered defence system and the right internal and external stimuli to trigger them and the energetic form would return.
Did it come from outside of me as some kind of astral parasite? I honestly do not know. Perhaps it was self-generated, like some kind of internalised negative Tulku-type thought form. Lodging itself in my early wound, like a piece of grit, a pearl of doom, accumalating layers and layers of negative energy fed by years of bad habits, unconscious programs and irresponsible use of recreational psychedelics in my youth.
(On a quick side note, I have seen in me and friends how the power that irresponsible use of psychedelics unleashes within your system can be rerouted to feed certain negative energetic attachments, making them stronger and more entrenched, especially with mid-range doses where the ego is still in control, the realm where most of these attachments operate.)
3 X 3 TREATMENT
A few days later I did a 3 X 3 treatment, where three rounds of Kambo were given to me within the space of three hours. It’s an intensive style of treatment that involves a lot of Kambo and is usually used to blast the fuck out of stubborn blockages. It is also a warrior initiation that males from certain Amazonian tribes must do when they reach the age of 12.
I really concentrated on my intention for this ceremony, which was about not having to need anything outside of myself to feel complete. While I lay in bed on the eve of the ceremony, ruminating on my intention, it suddenly struck me as ridiculous that I was missing some part of myself, and even if I was, where the fuck did it go and how the hell did I lose it in the first place? I was and had always been complete. Why had I ever thought that I wasn’t? Where did that come from?
The Kambo came on super strong for the first of the 3 X 3 treatments and everything went bright white.
‘How are you feeling?’ My facilitator asked me.
‘I’m blind.’ I replied.
I felt the medicine shoot into the barnacle entity thing at the back of my heart with great force and sustained attrition. Since the mass had come back, it had built a hardened tough carapace that was resisting infiltration and I felt it dig into my back like a fat, angry tick. The pressure from the battle created an unbearable tension that kept me on the verge of passing out for what seemed like a very long time. Then suddenly everything went back to normal again and the first round was done. I hadn’t purged at all, but the facilitators told me not to worry about it, as I still had two rounds left to go.
I started the second round early, as I was feeling strong and the next series of dots were applied. Again I felt the medicine hit this lump on my back to no avail. I began sending the lump some love. I felt it being unsure of how to respond, like it was receiving something very alien that it didn’t remember what it was. In many ways I realise now, that’s probably all the fucking thing wanted in the first place, so cut off from the actual thing that it had longed for all this time, that it was unable to recognise it when it was being given exactly what it had been wanting all these years. This fits in with some of the theories that these dark entities are really just bits of light cut off from their original nature, love/Source energy obscured by ignorance and trauma.
Sending it love seemed to loosen its grip on me but not completely. I felt the energy of the medicine reroute and begin travelling down my body and into my solar plexus area. I began to feel all sorts of intense stabbing pains down there. One of the facilitators gave me a load of haape (A kind of South American Tobacco snuff), and after shoving my fingers down the back of my throat and throwing up all over my hands and all around the bucket, I managed to have a deep purge that came from my solar plexus region.
OH SHIT, I’M AN ADDICT (MOST OF US ARE).
I lay on the floor absolutely wrecked. This next block of rest time didn’t seem long enough. During this time, I was informed by the Kambo spirit that this thing in my back was the entity of addiction and that all of my addictions had the same root and could all be traced back to this one thing, like different tentacles of the same octopus. And that like all my addictions, my relationship to love was in line with this, just another drug kick, something I had to have in order to feel complete, albeit temporarily. That’s why none of them ever worked out. No one wants to be with someone missing something, except for people who are missing something as well, and this just leads to various forms of toxic codependency. It’s a cliché (but unfortunately a true one) to say that one has to be reasonably complete before they are able to enter a positive relationship of any kind.
What? Was what I’d mistaken as love in the past, not actually love, but a kind of endogenous drug hit that I’d begun to abuse just like so many other things that felt great in my life?
Where the fuck did this unhealthy pattern come from? Partly from the pre-existing wound in me, but I couldn’t help thinking also partly from the underlying mechanisms that drove the consumerist capitalist matrix. Wasn’t ‘love’ in mainstream pop music and cinema basically portrayed as some kind of party drug designed to take all your pain away, to complete you, to make you whole? A quick analysis of mainstream pop love song lyrics seem to reveal that they were all just varying combinations of the same 7 key words and phrases: ‘Baby’, ‘I love you’, ‘I want you’, ‘I need you’, ‘I can’t live without you.’, ‘Ooooh’ and ‘Yeah’. The same vocabulary that could be interchangeably applied to a junkie as he crooned to his syringe full of opiates. Was this love that they sung of, or really just the effects of all the MDMA they had taken in the dance club to assuage the absolute loneliness gnawing at the heart of their modern lives?
From my limited experience with true love, true love was not like this. The real nuts and bolts of true love seemed to be when times got shitty and the people involved were old, fat and ugly, no longer even fucking each other much and yet they continued to share something that they could both give to that supported each other. Obviously no one would shoot a film, or write a pop song about this kind of love because it just would not sell. Sadly, no one wants to pay money to watch old, fat, ugly people make love, as much as I have tried to source it on the Deep Web. On the other hand, movies and pop songs about how you need something outside of yourself to be complete do sell, subtly programming you into certain emotional, belief and cognitive patterns of expectation that reality cannot match, resulting in dissatisfaction, craving and addiction anchored in the illusion of incompleteness.
Or maybe I just needed to get laid.
It only seemed like moments before I had lain down before my facilitator informed me that it was time for the third and final round.
Groaning, I made it to my knees to receive the next round of dots. Again, they hit super hard. The physical discomfort was so intense I verged on an out of body experience, reaching some kind of Zen level of split consciousness, where part of me felt like I was outside and above my body, tied by a thread, registering the whole ordeal from a detached point of view where i could register the unpleasant sensations, but was not affected by them. All I could see were shapes like interlocking webs of neurons, throbbing black and white, each part of the pattern inverting into it’s negative colour on each throb. ‘Am I seeing the inside of my fucking brain? Is this sustainable?’ I wondered.
Furious vibrations began to run up and down my shaking body. It was hard to stay up, but I’d made the commitment to stand my ground. After all, this was a warrior initiation and I didn’t want to seem like a pussy to the rest of my tribe (which is the true motivating force behind most acts of male bravery).
Also I really wanted this to count. I was tired of being this way.
I could feel the medicine working in and out of my solar plexus, flowing like a river of fire down my central channel, unblocking and waking up all sorts of stuff down there. But still no natural purge came, so once more I had to force it, jamming my left hand down my throat and throwing up all over it, while a chorus of whirling voices chanted, ‘Viva!’.
The dots were wiped off and I collapsed into a sweaty pile on the blankets. I had passed the test. I was now a warrior. What kind of warrior, I do not know. Perhaps the kind that didn’t know anything about fighting, weapons or warfare for that matter. Perhaps the kind that could only projectile vomit frog secretion bile onto his enemies and disgust them all into beating a hasty retreat, while simultaneously obsessively self-reflecting way too much on a public blog.
As I lay on my back, covered in my own bile, puke and sweet, sweet victory, the spirit of the frog spoke to me again.
‘You know you are already complete. Any idea that you are incomplete is just your addiction speaking. Your addiction is not you. Every time you feed your addiction, you are giving this thing energy and weakening your own supply. None of what you take in goes to you, it all goes directly to it.’
I thought about the theory that spirits like to possess people so they can experience all the physical earthly pleasures that they cannot in their non-material state.
‘This thing drains you of your power. It’s been running your life for a very long time. If you want your power back, you have to get rid of it.’
‘Wow. I can’t believe i’m speaking to a telepathic frog spirit.’ I replied.
‘To eliminate this thing, you have to starve it of it’s energy source. You have to stop all your addictions that feed it. That’s why I stopped working on it directly and went into your solar plexus area, the centre of your willpower, willpower that you need to build to throw this thing off once and for all. You overeat all the time. This is killing your willpower.’
‘I know, but I feel like it’s beyond my control, as much as I try. I got famine genes.’
‘Do you want to stop overeating?’
‘Then make the promise to yourself now.’
I made a promise to myself that seemed to place itself deep within my being.
‘And lay off the haape snuff!’ It warned.
I nodded and the frog was gone.
Over the next few days the thing in my back kicked up a fuss, screaming at me to feed it, but I held fast, avoiding my usual frequent hits of tobacco snuff and studiously not overeating by employing a strategy of mindfully chewing everything 30 times. Doing this also brought my attention to the fact that when I used to binge ate (which was every meal prior) I wouldn’t even be consciously there, just chewing food a few times and swallowing it in a semi-conscious zombie trance.
Over the next few days, I felt the muscle mass harden like a brittle pie crust and eventually break up and dissapate.
HOW MUCH OF YOU IS ACTUALLY YOU?
It was interesting to view all of my addictions as not actually me, but as a separate entity(s) that were controlling me and my consumption habits. How much of what was inside of me actually me? What drives did I have that weren’t actually coming from me, but from things that were possessing me, convincing me that they were me?
I thought about how people with thrush would start having massive sugar cravings, sugar cravings that came from biochemical commands sent by the fungal infections within them that fed off of such foods. I thought about Toxoplasma Gondii, a type of feline brain parasite that infected humans and caused them to be irresistibly drawn towards cats. I thought about the fans of Bruno Mars, a type of virus that compelled it’s host to compulsively rub shit into their ear holes.
How much of any of us, were truly, honestly us? The plants had once told me that anything that did not serve our highest good, could not be truly considered us. Our true selves only wanted what was the best for us, our true selves wanted us to succeed. All else was external negative interference.
How then to keep out things that had you had extracted from reentering? A wisewoman who was at the intensive informed me that these things keep coming back because you were in some way attached to them. If you could find out how and why you were attached to them, you could stop them from coming back once you had cleared them.
You also had to create new behavioural and cognitive pathways to replace the old ones that had once held it in place.
I guess that’s where the daily, hard work came in.
But, as our facilitator said, the beauty of Kambo was that it wasn’t going to do all the work for you, you had to meet it halfway. Because of this, what you gained from it would be much deeper and last a lot longer.
The excessively self-absorbed process of healing continues…
*I am now a fully accredited IAKP Kambo practitioner based in Australia(www.iakp.org), if you wish to arrange a private treatment please contact me on firstname.lastname@example.org and i will let you know when i will be in your town (i move around a lot!).
Here are two more articles i have written on entities:
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