No psychedelic will fix your life - Tomasz Kammel

Kammel describes himself as a natural ‘fikser’ (fixer) according to Gallup test, always ready with solutions. Maturity taught him that this impulse can be suffocating; he learned to ‘zamknąć dziób’ (shut up) and simply be present. He contrasts this with the common conversational style of 'ja ja ja' (me me me), which he compares humorously to German porn—interrupting with one's own story. He believes this listening skill is one of the most important gifts of emotional maturity and a cornerstone of his ‘difficult conversations’ framework on Kamel Channel.

Kammel describes his past obsession with ergonomics—everything had to be easy and convenient, from house design to car doors that closed themselves. Now driving a small sports car where reaching the seatbelt is difficult, he initially hated it. Applying stoic principles, he trained himself to enjoy that minor struggle, recognizing that life shouldn't be free of challenges. He extends this to larger life decisions, like filtering out dishonest people, and sees it as part of mature masculinity.

Kammel expresses deep distrust of many spiritual gurus and New Age trends that ask people to 'turn off the brain and follow the heart'. TM, however, appealed because it was developed by someone who 'did a hell of a homework' and extracted the psychological mechanisms without the theological overlay. He contrasts this with his general aversion to spiritual labeling and his refusal to put a religious stamp on mystical experiences. He sees TM as a tool that allows him to engage in meditative practice without compromising his rational side.

Using the Bajka exercise as a template, Kammel explains that this lesson directly addressed his lifelong anxiety. He applied it the moment an editor rejected his article pitch: he felt a surge of fear, recognized it as an old rejection wound, and then reasoned that the editor was simply doing his job responsibly. This de-escalated the anxiety. He emphasizes that it is not about excusing others but about preventing unnecessary emotional turmoil.

He contrasts the short-attention-span world of social media with the counter-trend of long-form podcasts, arguing that people have a deep hunger for real talk. He notes that many people turn to substances because they don’t appreciate the healing power of conversation. His own approach to difficult conversations involves empathy, accurate naming of issues, and trying to understand the other’s perspective—even if they are doing wrong—to find common ground. He believes that this skill is essential in today’s polarized world.

He explains that initially he focused on tools and techniques to overcome his lack of perceived talent, making hosting a ‘majstersztyk’. But as he gained life experience and sensed a ceiling in formulaic morning shows (6-minute chats about cabbage), he found a second stage where people wanted his sense of meaning, not just polished delivery. He contrasts this with the example of Jacek Walkiewicz, whose unpolished, emotionally raw TED talk moved crowds despite no technical finesse, proving that authenticity and originality can trump workshop perfection. However, Kammel notes that one can still learn to be authentic to some degree, but like Formula 1 drivers, there is a gap between being very good and being a genius—talent matters. In his current work, whether on stage or Kanale Zero, he feels most himself when he can delve into personal experiences and share lessons rather than just perform a scripted role.

He uses the example of Kevin Bacon, who, after undergoing a disguise to experience anonymity, hated being treated like an ordinary person and realized he thrived on recognition. Kammel says he has exactly the same experience: people are mostly delighted to see him, rarely criticize him, and the benefits include free adventures, access, and a level of comfort that normal people can’t imagine. He calls people with a celebrity status ‘strasznie uprzywilejowani’ (terribly privileged) and says they’ve been rewarded by fate, sometimes undeservedly. This fuels his disgust for those who lament the burden of fame, which he sees as sheer hypocrisy.

The exercise: he was blindfolded in a room, with two groups calling him warmly; each time he approached, they violently rejected him, shouting ‘spieprzaj’. He tried both sides, then, in frustration, told the first group ‘I don’t give a damn, I’m staying here’ and sat down—at which point they celebrated and revealed the lesson. The facilitator told him to interpret the ‘bajka’ (fairy tale) himself and observe how it plays out in life. Over time, he realized it illuminated his tendency to take others’ negative behavior personally. He now understands that when someone seems cold or dismissive, they are often dealing with their own burdens—unrelated to him. He gives a recent example from Kanal Zero, where a young editor rejected his article pitch, triggering a raw anxiety. Applying the Bajka lesson, he quickly saw that the editor was doing his job responsibly, not rejecting Kammel personally, and the anxiety subsided.

He criticizes the myth that a substance will transport you into a room with a sage who tells you exactly what to fix. Instead, his experiences provided small pieces that he had to assemble slowly to build a new self-image. He never found a single clear answer. He draws a parallel with MDMA-assisted therapy that allows re-processing of trauma, but stresses that the real work is integrating insights into daily life. He explicitly detests the idea that people go to drug-friendly festivals, take psychedelics, and claim it ‘saved their marriage’ without any personal effort. He also warns against kambo (frog poison), which he considers risky and unnecessary for modern humans—originally used by jungle tribes for hunting, not for spiritual enlightenment. He believes many Europeans treat indigenous rituals as a fancy shortcut, ignoring that those practices were survival tools. He instead promotes evidence-based self-care: checking blood sugar, reducing dopamine overload, improving diet, and having deep conversations.

He explains that ‘maska’ carries a connotation of deceit, while ‘odsłona’ is still a truth, simply adapted to the situation. He likens it to personal care: just as you want low triglycerides, you want the distance between the three layers to be as small as possible. With age, he actively works to shrink these distances, which makes him feel best about himself. This approach allows him to be authentic without feeling like he’s lying when he adjusts his behavior in different contexts—e.g., being a presenter on TV versus a deep conversationalist on a podcast. He also connects it to the experience of feeling most himself when he is on stage in his own authored events, where he can blend his personal stories with professional delivery.