Left of time: cold death or “sun;” right of time: hot death or “moon.”
Image: Sloan Digital Sky Survey
To the left of time, we burn matter to make energy (sun). To the right of time, we burn energy to make matter (moon). At time—at the speed of light—the energy in the system is maximized, and the lifespan is extended.
To the left of time, we condense and then expand. The condensing takes place “off-stage.” This is what we were observing in the fourth state of matter experiment.
To the right of time, we expand and then condense. The expanding takes place “off-stage.” This is what we were observing in the double-slit experiment. We do not see on both sides of time at once.
It’s as if we may see either the force that is applied, or the way light responds to the force, but not both. In sun, we see the expansion, not the compression behind it. In moon, we see the condensed precipitate, not the expansion behind it.
In iron, as with moon, we see the magnetism, not the electricity behind it. Paradoxically, iron, which is magnetic, will help me move forward in time (expand). Iron holds me together so that my light may expand.
In copper, as with sun, we see the electricity, not the magnetism behind it. Paradoxically, copper, which conducts electricity, will help me move backward in time (contract). Copper (similar to manganese) holds me apart so that my light condense.
To the left of time, vitamin K1 helps me to condense and then expand (burn matter to make energy). To the right of time, vitamin K2 helps me to expand and then condense (burn energy to make matter). My body’s absorption and utilization of K1 vs. K2 seems to have a lot to do with its perception of pH.
In my 20s, when I had Reynaud’s Syndrome, during very cold weather, I would cycle time too quickly, and essentially try to condense and expand at the same time. This caused problems, especially with my blood. It was hard for me to get a sense of where time—the center of time—was. My brain could not discern the speed of light in my environment. Similarly, to gauge pH, I need a stick to measure it with. My understanding of light and time—of pH and the core metabolic rate—seems to be not a single digit, but a range.
When I eat, my body seems to be gauging the pH of its environment. Lately, without realizing it, I had been craving acid. It’s as if my engine were flooded, as though I were swimming in alkalinity. I didn’t know how sluggish my understanding of time was until I tried some R-ALA—alpha lipoic acid (Jarrow, with Biotin). Immediately, my brain and my nerves seemed to increase their ability to function, their processing speed.
Alpha lipoic acid has been discussed at great length as a possible means to detoxify mercury, lose weight, improve fertility, affect the metabolism of cancer cells, and even to treat COVID-19. I am not looking at it in that way here.
This paradigm has nothing to do with “moving metals” or “killing pathogens.” This paradigm is about time. I am not looking at the painting on the tapestry, the images the eyes see; I am looking at the tapestry itself.
Metals and microbes are what the eyes see, “reality.” I am talking about the fabric of reality—the relative speeds of light and time.
Time and light are the same thing. Time (looking backward) is to the left of the speed of light; light (looking forward) is to the right. In sun, you might say we see light, not time. In moon, you might say we see time, not light.
When I took a capsule of alpha lipoic acid with organic ginger ale first thing in the morning, it increased the range of pH as understood by my brain. Without it, no matter what I ate lately, the meal was reading to my brain as “alkaline” (tasteless), which was subsequently (especially since I turned 50) lowering my core metabolic rate, to try to match the pH of my time signature. If the environment reads as alkaline, I will lower my metabolic rate. If the environment reads as acidic, I will increase my metabolic rate.
But I am caught in a loop, responding to myself. The “meal”—the environment—will read as alkaline to me if I am too acidic. When my brain reads “alkaline,” it does not necessarily mean the world is cold (to the left of time). It could mean I am hot (to the right of time). This is the paradox. I am, essentially, on both sides of the speed of light—both sides of time—at once. The slower my metabolic rate (the less acid that is being generated by metabolism), the more acidic my pH must be.
By adding a little alpha lipoic acid, I seemed to finally be able to get my brain to register “acid” in its environment. This, then, allowed me to increase my core metabolic rate, instead of constantly slowing down. Increasing my core metabolic rate also helped with the pH paradox—the perception of alkalinity when it is I who am too alkaline—which was causing metabolic gridlock.
To the left of time, the less acid that is being generated by my metabolism, the more acidic my pH must be. This is cold death or “sun.” To the right of time, the more acid that is being generated by my metabolism, the more alkaline my pH must be. This is hot death or “moon.” My body, my metabolism, is fighting itself. When my core metabolic rate slows down (when less acid is being generated via metabolism), I need more acid. When my core metabolic rate speeds up (when more acid is being generated via metabolism), I need less acid.
My brain, via my eye, my SCN, and my pineal gland, is constantly reading the metabolic rate of the universe—”time”—and trying to set my metabolism to match it. But if I am to the left of time, and my metabolic rate is alkaline, I will erroneously read time as alkaline. I will get caught in a loop. And if I am to the right of time, and my metabolic rate is acidic, I will read erroneously read time as acidic, and again get caught in a loop.
As time speeds up (as the metabolic rate increases), light slows down (the pH increases). This is to the right of time. To speed time up, we use serotonin. Or, as time slows down (as the metabolic rate decreases), light speeds up (the pH decreases). This is to the left of time. To slow time down, we use dopamine.
My understanding of health is fluid and always changing. I may take alpha lipoic acid for a few days, then feel it is no longer serving me (this often happens, as my body acclimates to whatever I give it). ALA is contraindicated for those for have mercury fillings in their mouths (and mercury, we now know, is profoundly neurotoxic). I am sharing information here not to recommend any particular supplement or strategy—this is not health advice—but to share the logic and the thinking behind it.
UPDATE: Here is another aspect of the paradox: the perception of acidity signals my brain to put on the metabolic brakes, which is what I need. But the actual presence of acidity does the opposite: it stimulates metabolism. Alpha lipoic acid enhances energy production and stimulates the Krebs (energy) cycle. I had to stop it after only three days. It made me feel wonderful initially, but then made me feel worse.
What my brain and my body need seem to be two opposing things. It’s as if my body is to the left of time (the speed of light), and my brain is to the right. The speed of light is my consciousness. The speed of light is the observer. My body is slower than the speed of light; my brain is faster than it. My body wants alkalinity, so that time can be slow. But my brain wants acidity, so that time can be fast. I am having difficulty giving both sides of myself what they need at once.