Our central nervous system—via the eye, the pineal gland, and the suprachiasmatic nucleus (SCN)—is constantly scanning the environment and attuning to the speed of light. When we read light, we read time. As we read time, we set our metabolic rate accordingly. But here’s the catch, and the reason we get caught in a trap: our metabolic rate itself will alter the speed of light we read. Any derangement becomes self-reinforcing.
When our core metabolic rate is faster than time (the speed of light), there will be too much acid in the body. As a result, the body’s demand for alkalinity will spike (allowing us to maintain pH7). This results in a pH paradox. When we are too fast, we are simultaneously too alkaline.
When the core metabolic rate is faster than time, aging is accelerated, and our natural lifespan is truncated.
When our core metabolic rate is slower than time (the speed of light), there is too little acid in the body. As a result, the body’s demand for alkalinity plummets (allowing us to maintain pH7). This too results in a pH paradox. When we are too slow, we are simultaneously too acidic.
Let’s say all illness is metabolic. For instance, I believe the core etiology of autism is an accelerated basal metabolic rate. Time is too fast, so light is forced to be too slow. But if our basal metabolism is too fast—too acidic—the brain won’t allow it to become more alkaline unless the pH becomes more acidic. Meanwhile, the gut won’t allow the pH to become more acidic unless the basal metabolism becomes more alkaline. We get caught in a loop. Human beings have a hardware vs. software problem. But we can fix it.
We need to take a closer look at pH. pH7 merely indicates there’s an equal amount of acid and alkali in the body; it does not indicate how much acid and alkali are present. The amount of acid and alkali in the body has implications for the amount of hydrogen (H+) and hydroxide (OH-) ions, respectively.
Behind the scenes, pH7 is not neutral. It’s a plus and a minus (positive and negative ions) that are effectively canceling each other out. pH7 just means there’s an equal amount of positive and negative ions in the body; not the right amount. In Autism, the amount of ions (energy) is too high. In Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, it’s too low.
When time is too fast, light is forced to be too slow (Autism). And when time is too slow, light is forced to be too fast (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). The pH is capable of compensating for and “correcting” the basal metabolic rate, to keep us alive at pH7. But in so doing, it masks the metabolic derangement.
What Happened to Me
When I was sick, I was so much more than tired. If I climbed a flight of stairs, I wanted to slump to the ground and weep. The mere act of being conscious seemed too much for me. I could sleep for eighteen hours, easy. In my life, if I’ve ever been really good at one thing, it’s sleeping.
But my sleep grew dysregulated. Its effects were mitigated, instead of compounding. At night, instead of gathering density, I kept trying to increase my speed (drenching night sweats). During the day, instead of increasing my speed, I kept trying to gather density (crushing fatigue).
My perception of time was askew. I was tracking with a different sun and a different moon. I had, among other things, paradoxical thiamine deficiency. I needed thiamine, but if I took thiamine, it increased my need for thiamine.
Thiamine powers the Krebs (energy) cycle. But what is energy? Depending on where we are in time, energy can mean different things. When energy is used to make energy, it supplies energy. But when energy is used to make density, it costs energy.
Because my perception of time was off, I was using my energy cycle to make matter. I was endogenously producing oxalate. Oxalate, a crystal found in plants capable of photosynthesis, is light that is denser than light. The more oxalate I produced, the more energy I needed. Taking thiamine increased my need for thiamine; increasing my speed increased my need for speed.
Image of Oxalate Crystal: Facebook ‘Trying Low Oxalates’
I’d become an energy sieve, using my Krebs cycle to make a form of energy that actually costs energy—kind of like paying off your debts with debts that charge even higher interest.
E=mc^2. There’s an economics to physics. For matter to behave as energy requires speed. And what’s speed? More energy. For energy to behave as matter requires density. And what’s density? More matter. It’s inefficient. But for matter to be matter and energy to be energy is easy.
According to this paradigm, the visible universe is operating at the speed of light. The first c, the universe itself, is like a bead on an abacus that slides from M (matter) to E (energy). The second c is reflected in the M/E. When the M/E is high, light is fast. When the M/E is low, light is slow. When the universe reaches the tipping point on the M/E continuum that’s equal to the speed of light, what then? Instead of energy being diminished as we use it, as we use it, energy will be renewed.
How does the formula for mass-energy equivalence (E=mc^2) not violate the law of conservation of mass? Here’s one way: matter doesn’t become energy, it masquerades as energy. But as the universe accelerates, we reach a tipping point after which the masks come off.
Time runs forward (accelerates) until it reaches the speed of light. Then it runs backward (decelerates).
I believe that in Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, the basal metabolic rate is too slow. And in Autism, it’s too fast. Why don’t we perceive the perturbed metabolic rate? Because the pH is inversely deranged—a corrective that masks it. In Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, I’m too alkaline—but we don’t see it because I’m also too acidic. In Autism, I’m too acidic—but we don’t see it because I’m also too alkaline.
What, actually, is the basal metabolic rate? It’s our processing speed. It’s time. If time is too slow, light will be too fast (Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). If time is too fast, light will be too slow (Autism).
Time and light toggle. If my basal metabolic rate is too alkaline, my pH will be too acidic. But when my pH is too acidic, melatonin is not stable; it degrades too quickly. In Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, what looks melatonin surfeit may actually be melatonin insufficiency, where the problem isn’t that I don’t have melatonin, but that it’s not stable at my pH—so I have to keep producing it.
If my core metabolic rate is too acidic, my pH will be too alkaline. But when my pH is too alkaline, dimethyltryptamine (DMT) is not stable; it degrades too quickly. In Autism Spectrum Disorder, what looks like DMT surfeit may actually be DMT insufficiency, where the problem isn’t that I don’t have DMT, but that it’s not stable at my pH—so I have to keep producing it.
I Sing the Body Electric
If time moves like a swing, where on the pull we gather density so that on the release we can gather speed, when I was sick, I was stuck. My swing was upright. I was both too dense and not dense enough.
I’m in perimenopause now, and it’s the same thing with estrogen. I’m stuck; I have both too much and not enough. Estrogen, like other hormones, tracks with light and time. It waxes and wanes; its healthy functioning depends on a range. Because my swing is upright, my estrogen neither spikes nor plummets, but hovers mid-range, where its functionality is lost.
What matters isn’t that I possess estrogen; it’s that my estrogen move. For females to menstruate, our estrogen has to dip. But for estrogen to be able to dip, first it has to spike—and there’s no room. In other words, it has to go up, so that it can go down, so that it can go up, etc. It has to pulse. Static estrogen is dead to us; it carries no information. Our hormones and neurotransmitters have to move—movement is energy. Movement, we can read.
Without estrogen, in turn, I lose the use of choline (cellular membrane stability); I absorb less vitamin K; I lose vitamin K-dependent matrix GLA protein. I lose the ability to modulate my density. I need estrogen to make estrogen. Time is a loop, and I am locked out.
My body tries to catch up, but I’ve lost my range of motion: my swing. When I attempt to accelerate but am not dense enough—or attempt to gather density but am not fast enough—I get slack in the line, and lose energy (heat).
We’re Caught in a Trap
Why do we age? We get caught in a metabolic trap. We’re not dense enough to move forward in time, and not fast enough to move back. Time, slowly, stands still. After we’ve been accelerating for about 50 years, we hit a cul-de-sac. We are maximally accelerated; we need to shift to a lower gear. But though brain wants to decrease the metabolic rate, the pH won’t allow it. And though the gut wants to decrease the pH, the metabolic rate won’t allow it. Instead of hugging pH7, we start swinging from 14à0 and 0à14.
We need to part the veil on pH and measure it not as a flat digit—purple—but see it as two digits—red and blue. I can be a 7 that is truly itself, and be in a great state of health. Or I can be a 7 that’s the resolve of a 0 and a 14, and have lost nearly all my homeostatic capacity—meaning I can no longer regulate my blood sugar, my blood pressure, etc. And worse: I can’t keep pace with time. The universe is accelerating and expanding, and I am left behind.
Font of the Neuroendocrine Cascade
The body—the cell—is ingenious. It opposes time not by confronting it, but by leaning in. It uses time. When it senses density, it uses acidity to make energy. When it senses energy, it uses alkalinity to make matter. When I was sick, I was angry at my body. I realize now I should have been praising it instead.
Sodium and potassium are the levers we use. To move forward in time, we pull sodium outside the cell and push potassium in. To move backward in time, we pull potassium outside the cell and push sodium in. In the former, we make energy. In the latter, we make matter.
Timing—circadian rhythm—is key. We can’t accelerate unless we’re sufficiently dense, and we can’t gather density unless we’re sufficiently fast. At night, we gather density, so that during the day, we can gather speed.
But how do we know when we’re dense enough to move forward in time, or fast enough to move back?
The pineal gland.
When the pineal gland perceives acidity, it produces melatonin, and we go to sleep. Melatonin acts upon the parathyroid glands, which influence calcium release, and help us to modulate our density.
Conversely, when the pineal gland perceives alkalinity, it produces DMT (dimethyltryptamine), and we wake up.
Melatonin is the chemical signal for darkness and density; DMT is the chemical signal for daylight and speed.
But there’s a catch.
If our basal metabolic rate is too slow, the pineal gland will misperceive itself as acidic and overproduce melatonin. If our basal metabolic rate is too fast, the pineal gland will misperceive itself as alkaline and overproduce DMT.
Perception isn’t absolute. It’s relative. When we perceive acidity, we slow down. When we perceive alkalinity, we speed up. But the perception of acidity or alkalinity depends upon our own acidity or alkalinity.
I recently had general anesthesia, during which my experience of time was altered. When I came home, plain ice cream tasted like the saltiest thing I had ever had in my mouth. I couldn’t bear it. I had to spit it out.
We must learn to better account for perception’s effects in our analysis of human health. For a deeper understanding of how perception helps us to construct reality, I recommend the jaw-dropping work of Donald Hoffman and Klee Irwin. Irwin’s video is slightly long, but you only need the first 7 mins to get the gist of what it’d mean if consciousness were structured like a language (i.e. if we are the word being made flesh).