Things I Learned From Poisoning Myself: Part III
By Belen Maluenda | May 5, 2020
The small burns on my inner left arm and right wrist had taken on a more even color and texture. It had been almost a month since I had worked with the Amazonian frog poison— a month during which I had relished the clear mind and boundless energy the powerful cleanse had given me access to.
Working with the frog toxin had been an invaluable learning experience. Its side effects helped me develop a more conscious relationship to food, which in turn helped me extend and maintain the toxin’s energy-boosting and mind-sharpening benefits. These benefits made me decide to maintain the mostly pescatarian diet I had been experimenting with. Improving my nutrition permanently upgraded the capabilities of my body and mind, opening the door to further development.
I thought I had learned all I could from Kambo, so I mostly considered my experience with that sacred medicine to be in the past by the time I arrived in Lima. I never suspected that the frog had one last gift in store for me. I discovered the most wonderful and life-altering side effect of my Kambo ceremonies with a little help from a uniquely colorful character.
Guiding Wisdom From An Odd Mentor
I met Loko Pe —a fellow Chilean— the day I arrived in Peru’s massive, ever-cloudy capital city. ‘Loko’ is a stylized spelling of ‘loco’ meaning crazy, and ‘Pe’ is short for ‘Pancho,’ a common moniker for the name ‘Francisco’. South Americans have quite a thing for nicknames.
That nickname, hand-painted t-shirts, ever-present Rasta beanie, and chilled-out demeanor suggest a proclivity for smoking large quantities of the devil’s lettuce. The stoner vibe is deceptive, however. Under the beanie draped over long, curly black hair is one of the most highly intelligent, intuitive, and exuberantly creative minds I’ve ever had the good fortune of befriending.
A prolific muralist and musician, Loko Pe is always bursting with ideas and insights. In the time I was in Lima, he became a sort of creative mentor as well as a dear friend. I had been hanging out with him for a few days when I showed him some photos of my art.
“Chiiika, eres artista,” you’re an artist, he said. “Tení que darle no ma,” you’ve just got to give it your all, he told me in his homey Chilean accent. Loko encouraged me to pour myself into my art and let go of my paralyzing anxieties over my lack of practice and other people’s opinions. He suggested I try to paint a mural at La Red Cervecera, the Chilean brewery where he worked as an event manager. I loved the idea that a mural I painted could bring a little more color into a space meant for laughter, music, and interpersonal connection, not to mention particularly tasty craft beer.
The Mural: Rediscovering A Passion
When I first started designing the mural, I was really neurotic about getting everything with the design just right. I’d always liked working with tiny paintbrushes whose lines are no thicker than a pencil’s, and I avoided large canvases. A mural offered so much space on which I could mess up! A failure would be particularly public and permanent on the designated wall at the entrance of the brewery.
Loko Pe pointed out the ridiculousness of my stress. This was painting. I liked painting. This was supposed to be fun. Why was I stressing about it like it was my university thesis? Loko helped me relax and begin to have fun with the piece, making a big impact on my mentality throughout the whole process.
My design depicted a bud of hops, which are plants used in the brewing process of most beers. With Loko Pe’s introduction, I presented my technicolor rendition to the brewery owners. They liked my design, and I got to work quickly. As I began to paint, I felt something I’m not sure I’d ever felt before while creating.
With my newly cleared mind and increased energy, I was able to focus and lose myself in what I was doing for several hours at a time. My mind totally melted into the pleasure of watching the image in my head take shape on the wall before me. In every brushstroke, I found profound comfort, peace, and happiness. It was an elating creative flow that felt incredibly natural and that I’d never experienced with such intensity.
In this blissful creative state, I received the Kambo’s final gift. It was a realization that hit me like a lightning strike, that these were the activities I had so enjoyed as a child but had neglected in adulthood. For years, school and then work had demanded all of my focus and energy. Stress and exertion had stifled my creativity, almost killing it. I realized that painting and similar creative projects were my favorite parts of my nature. They were kind of things to which I should be dedicating much more of myself and my time because they made me happy. How had I not realized it before?
It was then, with Loko Pe’s encouragement, that I took my first steps toward breaking down some of the self-created mental barriers that kept me from creating freely. I started by creating an Instagram and a Facebook account dedicated to sharing my creative pieces. I promised myself that I would pursue creative endeavors with more zeal and less self-consciousness.
I was determined to afford creativity a place in my life that held as much weight as activities revolving around work and health. I vowed to carry on these and other the lessons I learned on my trip when I returned to normal life.
Bumps On The Road
For all the revelations and internally proclaimed commitments, I did NOT apply that new creativity-centric perspective when I returned to Chile after my seven months of travel. I tried for a while, but I had a rather rough series of unfortunate events that derailed my efforts.
It was only after Chile’s nationwide eruption of social unrest, a subsequent identity crisis, a bout of depression rooted in subconsciously self-imposed isolation, a scam that emptied my bank account, an acutely painful breakup, and a global pandemic that I was pushed to reevaluate the lessons I’d been gifted on my backpacking trip. It’s funny how life tends to dole out merciless slaps of reality when you ignore its signs.
In quarantine, I reflected more deeply on everything that had happened to me not just since my return to South America, but in the past few years of my life. The ruminations turned into a mental maelstrom that made me turn to my journals for relief. After a few days of daily writing, my words began to flow freely. I filled up over a hundred pages in the first three weeks of social distancing. It was then that I decided to face my fears and start a blog.
I’ve always wanted to share my writing along with my artwork, but of course, I’ve created mental obstacles for myself. It’s so difficult to not fall into the traps of saying, “I’ll wait until it’s perfect,” or “I’ll wait until I’ve mastered the medium,” and the most dangerous of all, “I’ll work on it when I feel more inspired.”
These thoughts postpone getting started. I realize now that I’ve always been subconsciously terrified of putting pieces of myself out there, exposing them to potential criticism or ridicule. After all, the things I intend to share are images, ideas, stories, lessons learned, and reflections that are fleshed-out excerpts from my personal journals, my innermost self.
I simply like the idea of sharing the things that I’ve found interesting, beautiful, instructive, useful, and that have piqued my curiosity. My wish is that they provide a little joy, entertainment, or food for thought for a few others. I’ll do my best to share with those people in mind and work through my insecurities about the rest. I realize I should anticipate bumps and bruises, but hopefully I’ll learn and improve along the way.
I hope you’re enjoying my little labor of love! It’s been a huge pleasure to put my creative writing out there for you guys and I’ve loved hearing everyone’s feedback and comments so far. If you’re enjoying it, please leave a comment with your thoughts or share this with someone you think would like it too! If you’d like to hear more, please sign up below and I’ll send future pieces to your inbox as I publish them. See you next week for something… pretty different.
