While 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 about the terrain. Indeed, in a holographic universe, an argument could be made that the image is not about the image. The image is about the conditions that cause it to emerge. In the future, we may look at attacking the pathogen directly as analogous to trying to fix a broken movie by operating on the screen.
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%? Perhaps there is information hidden within this information.
Or, how about this. When dogs have fleas, we are told that if if the dog ingests a flea, she will get worms.
Well, that’s rather curious. Don’t you think?
Louis Pasteur was a giant in the fields of chemistry and microbiology in the 1800s. But perhaps Pasteur (born 1822) is not the end of the conversation on infectious disease.
Pasteur had a contemporary named Antoine Béchamp, who championed a different view—one that looks increasingly 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 the result of changes in the core metabolic rate accompanied by changes in the pH? If a holographic universe is fundamentally all one thing—like a balloon inflating and collapsing—our understanding of “germs” and “enemies” may need to be revised.
The holographic principle was proposed by Nobel laureate Gerard ’t Hooft in the 1990s. If this is a holographic universe, we may need to look at a new variable: time. Perhaps embryogenesis involves light moving backward in time. And so does oncogenesis. And pathogenesis.
If you are pregnant, a pre-existing tumor will grow more quickly. We see increased rates of infection at cancer sites, and can track (for example) human papillomavirus with cervical cancer. We have not yet been able to pinpoint causation, but there is significant correlation among embryogenesis, oncogenesis, and pathogenesis.
Perhaps puppies without exception all have worms because they’ve been backward-moving in time, 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 help to explain why newborns can need vitamin K1 at birth. According to this paradigm, vitamin K1 facilitates forward movement in time; vitamin K2 facilitates 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.
In 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.
About a fifth of human cancers are caused by infectious agents, and the relationship between oncogenesis and pathogenesis has been studied extensively.
What if pathogenesis and oncogenesis (infections and cancer) often appear side-by-side because they both involve light moving backward? Infectious microbes pull energy in from the host and over-replicate; cancerous cells pull in energy from the host and over-divide.
Perhaps a cancerous cell is just a normal cell that’s cycling light at yesterday’s speed; a pathogen is just a healthy microbe from the past.
When her mother was dying of leukemia, my friend panicked about exposing her to germs. The oncologist took her aside and told her not to worry. Even if you were to seal an end-stage cancer patient in a plastic bag, he said, it wouldn’t protect them. At a certain point, they auto-infect.
Auto-infection. Interesting. That, to me, does not sound like something that is about the germ. That sounds like something about the terrain.
As an analogy, let’s envision a pathogen as an ice sculpture. Perhaps what makes it pathogenic has less to do with its size and shape and more to do with the fact that it is made of ice.
Ice is a world made of ice is stable. Ice in a world made of water is not.
Matter in a world made of matter is stable. Matter in a world made of light is not.
Is what we call light true light—frank light? Or is it light’s derivatives?
If the rest of the world is made of water, I want my proton gradient to be that of water. If I am too dense, (“ice”), my proton gradient is too high. In a universe that is holographic, the pathogen is not light qua light (light as light). It is more derivative. 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.”
Light as matter as light (sun). Light as energy as light (moon). The speed of light is a round trip measurement. We need to think more about the mechanics by which the image is rendered.
Aside from end-stage cancer patients and end-stage AIDS patients being able to “auto-infect” without being introduced to a germ, we have another set of data that points to the importance of terrain: the well-documented phenomenon of viruses re-activating during spaceflight. What has changed for the astronaut? The observer is in motion.
When my metabolic rate surpasses what my pH will allow, my Krebs cycle spins in reverse.
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 (light), I am using my energy cycle to make matter.
If we were to speak in terms of direction of spin, metabolically, I can spin forward, or I can spin backward.
What if the Coriolis Effect and the Warburg Effect and the Dzhanibekov Effect are all fundamentally the same thing?
The Dzhanibekov Effect, seen in this video, is a phenomenon where the direction of spin changes vis-à-vis an observer. According to the model I am presenting, direction of spin is R->L below the speed of light (e.g. the equator), and L->R above the speed 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,” says Derek Muller. “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.”
I disagree with the assumption that this is an inertial field.
Remove the incorrect assumption that this is a simple inertial field (as opposed to a net 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 whole new playing field.
Elsewhere in the Dzhanibekov film, Muller asks: “Is the earth actually going to flip over?” No. Because the earth is an image our brains create. Is the perspective of the observer capable of flipping? Yes, and perhaps that flip is evinced in embryogenesis, oncogenesis, and pathogenesis.
