Embracing the Kambo Journey: Letting Go of My Fears

For years, I felt the pull of the kambo journey deep within me—a call to step into the unknown and release my fears. Yet, I kept putting it off, telling myself, not now, not yet. For nearly two years, I delayed, unwilling to leave the comfort of my familiar zone, realizing only later how deeply attached I was to those very fears.

Then, one day, I reached a breaking point. Enough, I told myself. It was time to let go of what no longer served me. The process had dragged on long enough. Since moving to Tulum, I’d been surrounded by shamans and shamanic medicines—many of them close friends. The call to kambo was always near, just a moment away.

Before diving deeper, let’s explore:

What is Kambo?

Kambo, also known as “frog medicine,” is derived from the toxic secretions of the Phyllomedusa bicolor, a vibrant green tree frog native to the Amazon basin. These frogs are found in the rainforests of northern Brazil, eastern Peru, southeastern Colombia, Venezuela, Bolivia, and parts of the Guyanas. Outside Brazil, the frog and its secretion are commonly called sapo (Spanish for “toad”).

The Phyllomedusa bicolor has a distinct “song,” which makes it easier to locate during the night. Traditionally, frogs are gently tied by their stretched legs to extract the secretion, which is then scraped from their backs and legs onto wooden sticks. This waxy substance can be dried and stored for over a year without losing its potency.

For application, the dried secretion is mixed with saliva or water and placed on small burns made on the skin. These burns allow the secretion to enter the lymphatic system.

With kambo’s growing popularity, concerns have arisen about the impact of these harvesting methods on the species. While the frogs are not killed during collection, ethical considerations about how they are treated have drawn scrutiny. Despite these concerns, the Phyllomedusa bicolor population remains stable for now.

The Therapeutic Potential of Kambo

Kambo has a range of traditional and potential medicinal uses, both physical and psycho-spiritual. Known as a “ordeal medicine,” it induces powerful purgative effects, including vomiting or diarrhea. Though its initial effects can be intense, many people use kambo to cleanse and revitalize the body and mind.

For me, kambo symbolizes a profound step toward healing and transformation—a chance to face my fears and release what no longer serves me. It’s not just about physical cleansing; it’s about spiritual renewal, a journey I’m finally ready to embrace.

The Effects of Kambo

The term “Kambo” often refers to both the substance itself and the ceremonial experience surrounding it. These two aspects are deeply interconnected, each providing context and purpose for the other. To truly understand Kambo, one must first understand the ceremony.

Kambo, the secretion of the frog, is not a recreational experience. It is a powerful tool for cleansing, purging, and healing. The Kambo ceremony is designed to account for the physical discomfort it induces, creating a safe and intentional environment for what is often a challenging process. Participants come prepared, knowing what to expect, and distractions are minimized to allow full focus on the experience. There’s a common saying: “Kambo gives you what you need, not what you want.” In this sense, Kambo is both a poison and a medicine.

Working with a substance as potent as Kambo requires courage—especially when it feels like the medicine itself is calling you to step forward.

I first became aware of this call years ago while working with Ayahuasca. Even then, I sensed that one day I would work with Kambo, though I still don’t feel ready to hold space for an Ayahuasca ceremony, despite being equipped and supported by Pachamama. I trust that when the time is right, it will happen.

My introduction to Kambo began with Indie, a feminine, nurturing energy that resonated deeply with me. Indie, an American living in Tulum, provided a safe and empowering space. Over the course of approximately five sessions, we began to focus on work centered around the womb. It felt as though Kambo itself was welcoming me.

I soon realized that, like Ayahuasca, I was capable of managing the Kambo experience well. By the time I reached my ninth session, I began applying Kambo to myself. However, this is not common practice, nor is it something I encourage others to try. Kambo is a poison and can be fatal if misused. Working with shamanic medicines requires not only skill but also an invitation and acceptance from the spirit of the medicine itself.

During my ninth session, I made a mistake. The application site became infected, a lesson born from overconfidence and ego creeping into my practice. As a result, I had to take a long break from Kambo. It was a humbling reminder that self-administration doesn’t equate to mastery or permission.

Kambo also places stress on the liver, making preparation crucial. A strict diet must be followed, avoiding foods that burden the liver. When treating the infection, I discovered that my body, already saturated with Kambo, had stopped responding to antibiotics. Yet even in this challenging period, Kambo continued to teach me invaluable lessons about patience, humility, and respect for the medicine.

Kambo is far more than a substance—it’s a profound journey of learning and self-discovery, demanding respect, preparation, and a willingness to confront oneself at the deepest level.