People sometimes ask what I did to get better.
I should preface by saying I am not 100% better. I still suffer from fatigue, and from an inability to adapt quickly enough to changes in my body’s understanding of itself in space (orthostatic intolerance).
I believe our health relates to spacetime, and our body’s understanding of spacetime has a lot to do with the perception of pressure.
What follows is a catalogue of impressions. These are ideas; this is not science. We have agreed, as a society, to operate within the framework of evidence-based medicine. Ideas (hypotheses) have a place in evidence-based medicine—an important place—but they are only a first step.
My core metabolic rate and my pH seem to move in tandem. When my body increases its speed (generates more acid, via metabolism), its demands for alkalinity increase.
Here is how the perception of pressure seems to function in me.
When my body perceives low pressure, it seems to want to accelerate (increase the core metabolic rate and increase the pH).
When my body perceives high pressure, it seems to want to decelerate (decrease the core metabolic rate and decrease the pH).
But my body’s perception of external pressure is dependent upon its own pressure. The perception of pressure is relative. That is the problem.
The faster my own spin rate (core metabolic rate), the more likely I am to perceive the external pressure as low, and the perception of low pressure makes me want to increase my speed: I get caught in a loop.
The slower my spin rate (core metabolic rate), the more likely I am to perceive the external pressure as high, and the perception of high pressure makes me want to decrease my speed: I get caught in a loop.
It’s hydraulics, in a way. And it’s the same mechanism, I believe, that we exploit in general anesthesia. When the spin rate and the pressure are both low, we drop out of consciousness. When the spin rate and the pressure are both high, we have heightened consciousness.
“Spin rate”? What on earth is the “spin rate”? It’s the body’s understanding of time, the atomic time signature of carbon. It’s the rate at which we oscillate, pushing calcium inside and outside the cell; pushing and pulling sodium and potassium inside and outside the cell. I suspect that, at night, melatonin speeds this process up. And in the day, DMT (dimethyltryptamine) slows it down.
In the morning, it seems to be the perception of low external pressure that wakes me up.
In the evening, it seems to be the perception of high external pressure that makes me want to go to sleep.
But in the morning, it’s not really that the barometric pressure is low; it’s that my own pressure is high. I’m “tightly wound.”
And in the evening, it’s not really that the barometric pressure is high; it’s that my own pressure is low. My energy is loose, “spent.”
Time isn’t something we simply move through. Time is something we make, then move through. The two halves of the circadian rhythm require each other. First we “draw back,” then we “spring forward.” Like a slingshot. Like a swing.
A fundamental tenet of these ideas is that the same principles that apply to us apply to the cosmos. The universe (“reality”) is a single fabric, if you will. So it’s interesting to think about the influence of “pressure” when considering the sun and moon.
What’s the difference between something very cold, that’s under very high pressure (“sun”), and something very hot, that’s under very low pressure (“moon”)? How would we, perceptually, distinguish between them? When it comes to light, could not the same impression, the same visual effect, be achieved in different ways?