“Give Me the Third Grade Version”

Often, when new ideas are expressed, the listener will say: “Give me the third grade version.” I respect this request, and share it. When I am thinking about the science of light, I often say to myself: “Tell it to me in a way that my inner 9-year-old will understand.”

Will this result in some people calling a metaphor or a turn of phrase an oversimplification? Probably. But that’s all right. Have you noticed? Progress doesn’t stop for complainers and naysayers. It keeps moving forward.

Here is the simplest way I know to express these ideas.

In a holographic universe, light is both background and foreground. It is the canvas and the painting. Above the speed of light, it looks one way; beneath the speed of light, it looks another. But it is the same thing.

Above the speed of light “dome” (lens), light scatters. Below the speed of light lens, light focuses. When we look forward in time, we see more worlds than there really are. When we look backward in time, we see fewer worlds than there really were.

Beneath the speed of light, we see its speed. Above the speed of light, we see its density. Density and speed are different ways of looking at the same thing.

Beneath the cell membrane, we see potassium. Above the cell membrane, we see sodium.

But it’s the same energy. The same light.

Usually vanilla ice cream tastes like vanilla ice cream. But after I had general anesthesia, it tasted like the saltiest thing I had ever had in my mouth. I couldn’t bear it; I had to spit it out.

Our brains don’t just read salt when we salt our food. My brain is constantly trying to read the saltiness (density) of the world.

To put it another way: Above the speed of light membrane, we see sodium … because we are potassium. Beneath the speed of light membrane, we see potassium because we are sodium.

When I say “we are sodium,” I am speaking relatively. I am speaking of a relationship. I mean we are “more sodium” (more dense) than our environment, which is expanding.

When I say “we are potassium,” I am speaking relatively, of a relationship. I mean we are “more potassium” than our environment, which is condensing.

When we observe light, we think we are observing a flat variable—green. But I believe we are seeing two hidden variables—yellow and blue.

If this is a holographic universe, we need to see our health metrics in the same way. Before I can vasoconstrict, I have to vasodilate. Before I can exhale, I have to inhale. From the flat, neutral position, I inhale first. But what is flat, neutral? What is my brain’s understanding of the tension and scale of the world? Does it think I am at sea level, or deep-sea diving, or on top of a mountain?

We see the tension inside the blood vessel that is too high—but we don’t see the tension outside the blood vessel that is too high. We see the tension inside the blood vessel that is too low—but we don’t see the tension outside the blood vessel that is too low. We can see on only one side of the speed of light lens at a time.

I was having paradoxical reactions to supplements and medicines, I believe because of this “background/foreground” issue. Taking zinc enabled me to utilize copper. Taking inositol enabled me to utilize choline. Taking vitamin B6 enabled me to not utilize B6. They call this the vitamin B6 paradox. Paradoxically, it is when I don’t sense a lot of phosphorus (fire) in my environment that I need to utilize a lot of phosphorus. I only need to make a fire when it’s cold.

In other words, when it comes to my terrain—my environment—whatever my brain perceives, it seems to want to do the opposite. High-energy, acidic environments make me feel I can go more slowly. Low-energy, alkaline environments—especially mold—make me feel as if I should immediately speed up.

But my body doesn’t want to speed up; it wants to slow down.

In holographic terms: I believe when I was very sick, I was spinning so fast metabolically that my light was precipitating out of solution. I was having trouble with urinary oxalates, crystals in my eyes, pain at the sites of old injuries, and skin cancer.

My light wants to slow down, but the higher energy I am, the more difficult it is for my brain to read my environment as “high energy.” This is the paradox.

I (my pineal gland) cannot read the speed of light in a pure or absolute sense. I can only read the speed of light vis-à-vis myself.

To give you the most [over]-simplified version: There are only two positions. Zero or one. Nucleus or electron cloud. “Out” or “in.” When I’m in, I can go out. When I’m out, I can go in. Before I can do what I need to do, I need to do its opposite. I have to make a bed, so to speak, before I can lie in it.

I cannot easily discern what the light of my environment is doing. When fragrance is too strong, and light too bright, and noise too loud, is light (information) exploding toward me—or imploding toward me? What’s the difference, objectively speaking? Should I squeeze my pineal gland more—or less?

A negative charge moving backward in time is mathematically equivalent to a positive charge moving forward in time. (Lawrence M. Krauss)

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