While I was researching the infectious vectors of Blastocystis Hominis, I came across some interesting statistics. According to Wikipedia, the pathogen exists in four different states, only one of which results in symptomatic illness. In some parts of the world, infection rates with the benign form of the pathogen are as high as 100%.
The mere existence of the phrase “infection rates of 100% with the benign form of the pathogen” should make us all scratch our heads in unison and say: Hm. Maybe we do not understand the true nature of infectious disease.
Perhaps pathogenesis is not about the pathogen, but rather about the terrain. The microbiome, resplendent and varied, already exists. What can change is the state of the microbe.
When I was getting a puppy, I was told: “All puppies have worms at birth.” Puppies need to be de-wormed because puppies, without exception, have worms.
But … why? What’s the universal infectious vector—where and how is the pathogen introduced? Where is the germ? Birth is a dirty business, during which human beings often defecate. But infection rates of 100%? That is thought-provoking.
Or, how about this: When dogs have fleas, we’re told that if if the dog ingests a flea, she will get worms.
Well, that’s rather curious. Don’t you think?
Louis Pasteur profoundly influenced the course of human life. But perhaps Louis Pasteur (born 1822) was not the end of the conversation on infectious disease. Pasteur had a contemporary named Antoine Béchamp, who championed a different view, one that looks more and more compelling as we sink deeper and deeper in an infectious disease spiral.
Germs cause disease. But what causes germs? Could it be that pathogenesis is triggered by changes in the core metabolic rate accompanied by compensatory changes in the pH? If the universe is indeed proved to be all one thing—like an inflating or collapsing balloon—our understanding of “germs” and “enemies” may need to be revisited.
If this is a holographic universe (the holographic model was proposed by Nobel laureate Gerard ’t Hooft in the 1990s), perhaps incarnation—e.g. embryogenesis—involves light moving backward in time. But so does oncogenesis. And pathogenesis.
If you are pregnant, a pre-existing tumor is more likely to grow. If you are pregnant, and, according to this hypothesis, you are maintaining a time signature (a pH spread) that is extra wide, you are more likely to lose homeostatic capacity—the ability to regulate blood sugar (diabetes), or blood pressure (pre-eclampsia).
Perhaps puppies all have worms because they’ve been backward-moving—incarnating—and at birth, some part of their microbiome is still moving backward. It takes a moment for everything to switch gears. This gear-shift may also be why newborns need vitamin K1, to help the blood and bones cohere. According to this paradigm, vitamin K1 facilitates time’s forward movement; vitamin K2 facilitates time’s backward movement.
This could also explain why ingesting fleas will result in a dog that has worms. The variety of microbe is less important than the direction of time. Light that warps backward on the fur will warp backward in the gut. According to this model, to “warp backward” (night, moon, melatonin) is to speed up and become more alkaline. To “warp forward” (day, sun, dimethyltryptamine) is to slow down and become more acidic.
In the 1970s, we noticed a correlation between infectious disease and cancer. There were often cancer and infectious disease comorbidities (it was common to find infections at cancer sites), and it appeared, for a minute, as if the core etiology of cancer might be viral. But the relationship proved to be one of correlation not causation. Yet there is, undeniably, a relationship.
What if pathogenesis and oncogenesis often appear side-by-side because they both involve the backward movement of time? Infectious microbes pull energy in from the host and over-replicate; cancerous cells pull energy in from the host and over-divide.
Perhaps a cancerous cell is just a normal cell that’s cycling its light at yesterday’s speed. Perhaps a pathogen is just a healthy microbe from the past.
When my friend’s mother was dying of leukemia, my friend was panicked about exposing her to germs. As her mother grew more and more frail, she grew more and more reluctant to see her—until the oncologist took her aside. Even if you were to seal an end-stage cancer patient in a plastic bag, he said, it wouldn’t work. At a certain point, they can auto-infect.
Auto-infect is an interesting concept, and one that is worthy of closer examination.
Terrain theory is the idea that infectious disease is less about the pathogen and more about the terrain. An analogy would be saying that an ice sculpture of a pathogen is less about the shape of the sculpture and more about the fact that it is made of ice, not water.
It is the fact that it is made of ice, of fast (i.e. spinning) water—and not true water—that makes it pathogenic. It is not light qua light (light as light). It is light qua matter qua light (light as matter as light). Or light qua matter qua light qua matter qua light (light as matter as light as matter as light)—a “new variant” of the same thing.
Aside from end-stage cancer patients and end-stage AIDS patients, we have another set of data that point strongly to auto-infection and terrain theory: the well-documented phenomenon of viruses re-activating during spaceflight. How might we interpret this vis-à-vis a holographic model of the universe?
During spaceflight—during any kind of acceleration—the size of our Now changes. When time changes, light changes in tandem.
When we orbit the earth, why don’t we fly apart? Because when we perceive the centrifugal force, we apply the centripetal force.
When we deep-sea dive, why don’t we collapse? Because when we perceive the centripetal force, we apply the centrifugal force.
When time spins left, we spin right. And when time spins right, we spin left.
When I am spinning left->right and the basal cells in my shoulder are spinning right->left, I have cancer. When I am spinning left->right and the H. pylori in my gut are spinning right->left, I have an H. pylori infection and possibly an ulcer. When I am spinning left->right and the DNA in my womb is spinning right->left, I am growing a baby. But the infant will likely need some vitamin K1 at birth, to help her change directions.
When my Krebs cycle spins backward, I endogenously (internally) produce oxalate, a crystal found in plants capable of photosynthesis. Instead of using my energy cycle to make energy, I am using my energy cycle to make matter. I think I am making energy, but my understanding of light’s density is incorrect. Every cell in our bodies is capable of this metabolic shift, known as the Warburg Effect.
Every cell in our body … and perhaps every microbe in our microbiome? Could infectious disease be a kind of microbial Coriolis Effect or Warburg Effect?
What if the Coriolis Effect and the Warburg Effect are actually the same thing? What if the Coriolis Effect, the Warburg Effect, and the Dzhanibekov Effect are all the same thing?
The Dzhanibekov Effect can be observed in the video below, where the direction of spin changes vis-à-vis an observer. According to the model I am presenting, water spins L->R above the speed of light (the equator), and R->L below the speed of light. But why should water change direction of spin, and not light? Moreover, and more importantly, in a holographic universe, water—like the rest of the images our eyes see—is comprised of light.
Also in this video, you will witness with your own eyes the emergence of the centrifugal and centripetal forces. “Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain,” Derek Muller says (sorry, Derek). But what if Derek, and the rest of mainstream science, in assuming this is an inertial field, is plum wrong? (Actual quote: “Normally I don’t like talking about centrifugal forces, because if you analyze things in inertial frames of reference, you never have to deal with them.”)
Remove the incorrect assumption that this is an inertial field, remove the incorrect assumption that the behavior of small pixels and large pixels is the same (i.e. Weyl invariance, the idea that scale doesn’t matter), and suddenly we have a playing field with whole new vistas to explore.
But perhaps Muller is partly correct. We don’t “have to deal with” the centrifugal and the centripetal forces because, ideally, they hold each other in check and are a net neutral. We only observe them if one side or the other surges. If the universe contracts, and the centripetal force surges, we might see earthquakes. If the universe expands, and the centrifugal force surges, we might see tornadoes. But, really, it is the re-balancing of the forces that we’re seeing. The system is held equilibrium by its very nature. We see the expansion generated by the contraction. And the contraction generated by the expansion.
Elsewhere in the Dzhanibekov film, Muller asks: “Is the earth actually going to flip over?” No. Because the earth is something our eyes see. Is the perspective of the observer capable of flipping? Yes, and perhaps that flip is evinced in embryogenesis, oncogenesis, and pathogenesis.
But … That’s not the way we see infectious disease!
Right. We see infectious disease through the eyes of Louis Pasteur, who was born in 1822, and whose methods and career were not without controversy. I am asking if there might be another way of seeing.
And another thing. Those of us who ask questions are tired of being bullied and mocked. Science is a living, growing thing. Observing the world and asking questions about it is the very heart of the scientific method.
We want our children—and our grown-ups—to learn to grok truth for themselves. We don’t want to teach them “This is true because I say so.” Indeed, “this is true because I say so” is the opposite of truth, and it breeds distrust as a result, in children and adults alike.
The truth loves an open forum. It will not be intimidated. And it will not be bullied. An attempt to silence the truth will always lose in the end.
They tried to bury us. They didn’t realize we were seeds.