A Call to Medicine

The medicine began calling to me long before I understood what it was all about. In college, I experimented with psychedelics. At that time, I did not realize the difference between using and truly working with the medicine. Yet, something deeper kept drawing me back. I explored ceremonies with San Pedro and Ayahuasca, and had a moment with Kambo that I instinctively knew wasn’t mine yet.

Years later, while struggling through a deep depression, I remembered that frog. I initially planned to go to the jungle to learn how to serve myself. Instead, I found a local practitioner. That first Kambo ceremony ended my need for daily ketamine. More importantly, it opened the path to real healing.

Moving Forward

Since then, I’ve not fallen back into that dark place where it feels like it would be better to not be here at all. My journey has led me to other medicines—mushrooms, Bufo, and most deeply, Tepezcohuite. Sitting with her each month as a student has brought me further into my purpose. Eventually, it brought me to the jungle, where I dieted with Bobinsana and Aya.

The Essence of the Medicine

This past weekend deepened my experiences—especially working with the light and shadow of the medicine. I’ve seen these contrasts before during hard journeys and joyful ones, in dark explorations and those filled with bright visions. However, nothing compared to the drastic lesson learned this weekend.

In the past few ceremonies, including Saturday, I sat asking Tepe to show me what it meant to be a vessel. I thought I meant being intuitive, open, and guided. She heard me and moved through me like wind in a hollow gourd. Her presence wrapped around me and filled me. It was beautiful and powerful. I believed I understood.

But then, Sunday came.

A Day Like No Other

In the morning, I decided to self-dose again. Once more, I asked to be a vessel. Tepe answered fully. However, after the journey, I struggled to find myself. I lost my voice, my personality, and the spark that makes me me. It wasn't dissociation or trauma. It felt as if my essence had vanished. This realization frightened me deeply.

The rest of the day, I wandered through the world in a haze. I felt detached, as though something vital had been stripped away. At times, it was like a battle raged inside me. Other times, it felt as if my inner child was ready to take over. But I still couldn’t find ME.

Later that Sunday, I participated in another ceremony. I was asked to sit in front of a man while he journeyed. When he reached out and touched me in a way that felt wrong, I froze initially. It felt as if I were supposed to disappear again. I thought about becoming what he wanted, fitting the image he was holding, and I almost did.

Reclaiming My Voice

Yet, something in me snapped back into place. I gently moved his hands off of me and grounded him through contact with his own body. In that moment, I reclaimed myself. When I journeyed again, Tepe met me with laughter.

She revealed that she never wanted me to disappear. I had misunderstood her. Tepe doesn’t want an empty vessel; she wants me. Not a hollow container, but a partner. She wants to work with my energy, my boundaries, my aliveness, my laughter, my essence, and my soul. She reminded me of who I am—not just a conduit, but a co-creator alongside her.

This lesson continues to resonate within me. I realize that, in previous ceremonies, as I sought to be a true vessel, I was losing parts of myself. It was as if Tepe was trying to guide me but also letting me figure it out on my own. But once I asked while serving myself, it seemed she said, “OK, here you go. Just be a vessel.” I never want to experience anything like that again. I haven’t felt that scared in a long time.

The Importance of Boundaries

I also learned that even though I cognitively understand that I should hold boundaries, I did not feel that in my soul. It felt wrong, like I would somehow get into trouble. I believed I did not matter enough to hold them. I hadn’t realized I was clinging to that narrative. Letting it go feels liberating.

This journey is not a path I walk for fun. It's about healing. It’s not about ego or performance. It’s not about collecting ceremonies. It’s about building a relationship—a deep, reverent, reciprocal relationship with the medicine, the land, and the people who carry these traditions.

Creating a Meaningful Relationship

I cultivate my relationship with the medicine by showing up with honesty, humility, and deep respect. I sit in ceremony, listen to dreams, and serve Kambo and Mapacho with reverence. I continue to study Tepe as a student—not to gain something, but to walk beside her and remember who I am.

These medicines are not merely tools; they are spirits, allies, and beloved friends. I care for them through prayer, ethical sourcing, and by honoring the people and lands that carry this wisdom. I prepare with intention, speak with care, and offer more than I ask. This is not a transaction; it’s a devotion.

Tepe continues to teach me. But now, I know—she’s not here to erase me. She’s here to walk with me, alongside me in this journey.

And I am ready.

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