Day 3:1

On the dawn of the third day I had grown completely thin.

My hair had also grown long, and so had my fingernails and toenails. My body produced a smell as though it had been driven for years without bathing. It was truly pungent.

I knew that above all I had to teach this great meditation diet to others. To share its marvelous power and to see those encased in their wombs of fat freed to be something so much more. To truly know their bodies. To not live in dualistic denial.

To see the many freed.

But why did my body yearn for this so strongly.

What beckoned to me to be so connected. My state was perfection. I was in perfect harmony with every cell in my body. I could hear clearly in my mind the melody that causes enzymes to dance. I could feel the charges of each individual molecule in my temple, and I could transcend so many of the limitations of time.

I knew that the search for the muses revealed the only possible great cause in life. Yet I yearned, even now for others. To save others. To see others transformed and reborn, fully aware of their own flesh.

As the sun rose I slowed down time again.

I felt the tender wash of the photons cause the gentle release of my pineal gland. My third eye. Once thought of my Descartes to be the throne of the human soul.

I slowed it down more and more, beyond the perception speed of my eyes. I embraced the great and terrible nanosecond.

And then without warning I was moving backwards through time.

There was something automatic about my regress. Though as a scientist I know that my only true power was to escape the automatic in all regards, to become a creature of pure will, right down to the organelles of my cells. Yet this was automatic.

Like a reflex, the seconds moved backwards. Slowly at first. I felt my nails and hair begin to shorten. Then it sped up more, and more, and more increasing velocity at a rapid state. With horror I felt the fat cells swell with the excess of the horrible hydrocarbon tails of fat, only the automatic grip of this demonic time travel prevented me from flexing at an ultra-rapid rate to escape this cocoon.

In flashes that felt like lashes of a whip I relived my divorce, my marriage, my education, my adolescence. This was my first clue.

I landed in my adolescence like a meteorite giving birth to a crater. Yet my will was meaningless. The causal sea had already taken its grip. It was as if I was in a stranglehold of inertia. I had to relive it as I had done so in the first place.

At least in my youth I was thin again.

Day Two: 3

I call it the meditation diet for many reasons.

One, because I was able to teach it to others who suffered from the disease of obesity. I was able to take others who had suffered the isolation as I had suffered it and teach them to be perfectly aware of their bodies and finally escape their prisons.

I call it this because I now realize that in principle it is the same effect described in most eastern meditation traditions, especially the Zen tradition. I now know that this was my first encounter with the muses. My first muse was my obsession with weakness, and how to escape it.

For some reason, that I have not yet discovered, this muse came upon me and caused me to completely gain perfect awareness and control of my own body. Right down to the molecular components that make my cells.

This awareness allowed me to access my avatar (my mental projection of myself) and through him control my body. My avatar is nothing more than a mental projection of myself, created within my own mind to guide me into this perfect understanding and use of my body.

This is the meditation diet. In all of its simplicity, to become so disgusted with oneself that you become totally self aware. Cell by cell, neuron, by neuron, protein by protein, charge by charge.

Without the disease of obesity, I cannot offer this self awareness rapidly. It is as if the anxiety of great fatness has its own particular frequency which I have somehow learned how to access and grant great power.

The power over one's own body.

The moment my avatar guided me to the greatest possible division of time I perceived, for the very first time, the muses.

The muses are difficult to describe.

In essence they are nothing more than the unconscious factors which motivate human behavior. Condensed in ultra efficient nodes, which we can think of as archetypes.

Archetypes can be loosely defined, as it once was by the strange psychologist Carl Jung, as concepts and trends in human beliefs that seem to transcend culture and time.

Jung may have been wrong about much, but in the slowing down of time, and with the most amazing ability to perceive my inner workings so precisely I saw them.

They stretched out like whole notes, carrying all of the melody of my higher consciousness.

They were made mostly of the emotional storm which raged in my midbrain, my limbic system, the inner brain structures which are known to cause our emotions.

Yet they have crucial feedback from higher centers.

The muses.

Like Jung's archetypes they are varieties of self projections. The hero, all of them from Luke Skywalker to Jason and the Argonauts. The great sage: from Merlin to Marx.

The adversary: from Satan to Loki to Osama bin Laden.

The human drive rode the synaptic tide of the muses. I only perceived them for a moment, and I became passionately committed to unlocking their secrets.

Did they evolve? Did everyone have them? Did they have a life of their own? Where they just artifact and I was mistaken about their causal role in human motivation?

I would not perceive the muses again, as the nano-second perception was difficult to hold. I was not adept enough yet. I still had work to do.

As I recoiled from the great force of will I became aware of my avatar once again.

My avatar was at perfect peace, like an ancient Egyptian Sarcophagus, golden and imminently present.

"Are you a muse?" I asked.

"Of sorts," answered my avatar, "You can think of me as your realization of your own potential."

"I am what happens when you catch a glimpse of yourself as a god."

It was when my avatar said this that I walked into him, instantly facing the greatest amount of harmony.

At first it was a difficult fit, like the collapse of virginity.

Then, moment by moment, my self-awareness was amplified. I no longer needed my avatar. I was my avatar.

I sat, in a Dallas alleyway, in the lotus posture. And I felt my enzymes dance for hours and hours.


In only two days time the meditation diet had taken me to the elevation of a god.

Day Two: 2

"Behold the nanosecond!" Says to me my avatar. He indicates in my mindscape to another icon of an hour glass. 

He says to me, "This is our basal ganglia, it will help us see what you must to speak the language of our neurons."

"What is it that I need to see?" You need to see in nanoseconds, otherwise your full potential will never be realized."

I touched the hourglass, suddenly I became aware of the infinite divides to be found in a moment. It was as if I had slowed down time, always dividing by two the pace of the turtle which outruns Achilles in Xeno's paradox. Each moment divided into two moments, the two new moments divided into two new moments, and so forth in a self similar spiral that virtually allowed me to stop time. 

"We have not stopped time," says my avatar, "we are merely paying close attention to its passage."

"But even now we only see the tip of the iceberg, do you feel what you are doing?"

I did. I could feel it precisely, but as each moment I gained more and more control of the individual cells of my brain I found it more and more difficult to know how to communicate what I was experiencing. 

"I am harnessing the rhythms of firing in the basal ganglia regions of my brain, and enhancing the perception of small increments of time, I have reached a 300 millisecond threshold."

"300 milliseconds is not bad." responded the avatar, "you have divided each second into 3 major experiential units of time, you can see a thousand times more than the average person."

I suddenly went back to my eyes, and saw the world around me. I had already lost an incredible amount of weight from the intense work I had given my muscles. 

I saw the light pouring in beams in the streets around me, which I had been wondering around in throughout this whole experience. I could see cars moving as though they were slow elephants migrating across the savannah, I could see the texture of the tires as they spun. I looked and saw that all birds looked as though they were gliding. 

In my mind my Avatar spoke, "I will show you how to slow it down until you see the photons strike the surface."

Then I felt my hand upon the hourglass I had envisioned in my mind. I was absorbed by it, it was as if I was suddenly a grain of sand falling through it. Slowly crashing towards an ocean of sand, and as I struck the other grains I saw it. The great synapse. 

The synapse is the space in between two neurons. In this space all messages spoken by brain cells and nerve cells are sent. 

"How am I seeing this?" I asked. 

"You are experiencing it holistically, it is kind of like squinting your eyes so that the contrast becomes more prominent. We have tricked our basal ganglia into bringing us into a state where we are squinting our perception of time. Ironically, it is more like we have panned out than closed in, but here you are."

"Can you feel it?" he asked. 

I could. Countless little magnetic tugs, pulling this way and that. It was the charges surrounding me in the lagoon of thoughts, the neurotransmitter molecules spat out by one neuron to be lapped up by the next where all around me. Each one having its own unique electrical signal based on which regions of it lean positive or negative in charge. This difference of charges is how the neurons know which  neurotransmitters to consume and which to reject. 

"Focus!" shouted my Avatar! With great intensity. 

I looked at his face, it was as if it had been taken over by demons. Suddenly I had a brief moment of religious terror, I was wrong: God was real and I was in hell!

"NO!" Roared my Avatar. "FOCUS!"

He slapped my face, I felt all of my neurons shift. 

I looked at him and returned his rage. Suddenly were locked in a mutual desire for destruction, wrath, flowing in a continuous circuit between us. 

"YES!" He spoke as his eyes began to appear as if he were filled with light and it was pouring out, and suddenly I could see myself from his eyes, and I looked the same. 

"Now we feel them, are they not overwhelming and majestic?"

I could feel them. I could feel them tugging at my very existence, as if I was using them to hold my atoms together. This was a frightning realization as I was moving atoms at will, shifting the charges of my neurotransmitters, shifting the charges of the receptor channels of my brain cells to make them grab the neurotransmitters of my own choosing. I felt infinite power! But I was unaware of the source. 

"Yes you feel them, behold..... the muses!"

Day Two: 1

It was on the second day, in which I ate no food. Like Christ on his fast of 40 days. This was only the second day of my Experience, but when it came it lasted for an eternity. It was on this day that I discovered both of my powers. 

My powers are but the blooms of the meditation diet. And my powers, like the powers of all of who have power are only only piercing a thin veil into the true source. The true source is the muses. 

But forgive me, to think of this day, the day of the Experience causes my perception of time to be blurred. And my perception of time is very very powerful. 

Let us remember this day together. You can join me in your own neurons. 

I was overwhelmed by the tragedy of my corpulence. My fatness. How funny it must sound. The man who was so fat and how horrible his life was. But in my fat cells were carried a thousand scrolls of my failures. 

All of the times I was weak and driven to overeat, all the times I felt so battered by life that I felt I needed endless eating to heal my traumatic wounds. Fatness, the fear of it causes the mental disorders bulimia and anorexia nervosa which can occasionally be fatal. 

This fatness and intense focus on it. A mind shattering focus evidently. Because for a day I could not do anything, but sit still in a sea of my yearning. I was tossed to and fro by the intense impulses of my hypothalamus (the brain region devoted to basic body functions-including hunger and thirst) and the impulses of my amygdala (the emotional region, deeply connected to memory). 

In this intense awareness it was as if my cells of my body came together in my mind and screamed in horror, screamed at me, threatening to kill me, to tear me apart, and I knew this was not an illusion. I had had some terrible accident, some storm of brain activity like a stroke, or a massive seizure, my brain was breaking, it was going to blow. 

Then from the see of calm I saw Him. My Body. My Angel. 

He said hello "Dr. Chronos,  do you remember me?"

His appearance in my mind was at first hazy, then I saw that he was every cell the same as me. 

What was intensely overwhelming was the sense of familiarity. In my youth I was deeply Catholic, until my education in science took that from me. I believed in the guidance of the Saints, the blessed conception by Holy Mary and the resurrected Lord Christ who absolved humanity of all evil if they will but cling to him. What beautiful days those were. 

In this youth I had a vision of an Angel. The Angel was of a strange name I could not pronounce, but he always guided me. He would tell me he was an emissary of the Holy Ghost. That he was my very Ghost. My soul. Of this I was now sure. 

"No, Chronos..." he said in a hertz and frequencies so perfectly attuned to my ear anatomy, " ...I am not your Ghost... I am your body."

"You have just suffered a "mental breakdown," or an awakening as the ancients called it. Your brain was so consumed with suffering that like any crucified saviour, or Buddha at the crisis of his meditations, or like the suffering Saints which learn to transcend the pain itself that it became intensely self-aware." 

"You and I are the precipitate of intense parallel processing. You are beholding a mirror, I am your body and through me you can control it cell by cell and see the muses."

"What is this you keep saying about the muses?" I responded in the tranquil sea of synaptic brain activity, "...this sounds other worldly, I am an atheist."

He spoke again, though it is difficult to describe this interaction as though words were somehow really involved. It was a different level of communication, my ears were active, as was my temporal region in general, but no words were ever spoken. 

"It is not otherworldly at all, the muses are the interface between humanity and what drives it to such marvelous levels of activity. They are easily observed, they are no more controversial than the notion that wires and fiber optics can give rise to your computer. They are components that exist in a natural world, nothing more, but when the human brain hits the right frequencies with them, something amazing happens."

"It is happening to you right now."

Suddenly I was racing. Racing through my blood vessels, in the lightning of the synapse. The synapse is the method by which brain cells communicate. They release tiny little molecules who interact in a beautiful statistical dance of charges. I could feel every charge, I could start to influence little factors, like the distribution ratios, which neurons spoke to which neurons, and through that all cells. Especially muscles, who share neurons use of electricity to function. I could instantly force each of my muscles to flex. To flex enough to lift 300 lbs. if I merely wished it. 

The meditation diet suddenly forced my fat to start melting away through rapidly enhanced metabolism. 

Then he spoke again, "Think of me as an Icon on your computer, the brain wizard if you will, I will guide you on how to use your body with total control, then we must take a look at the muses and see where they guide Us."

It was then that I began the steep ascension that still guides my every breath!

The Great and Holy Meditation Diet

* From the diary of Dr. Chronos, the scourge of Lubbock

My story begins encapsulated in failure, grief, and distress. 

When I realized what had to be done was months after loved had failed me. Like it had so many times before. The details don't matter the outcome is always the same. You are found after much trial and error to be disappointing. In the end any empathy you have for the other person is met with an impenetrable wall where once there was purest asylum and bliss. 

Love and its loss is like watching everything you love turn to stone. You become Medusa and are prisoner to her curse. 

When this happens to me, I have always tended to fall apart at the seams. 

I become weak and degenerate and I eat like some kind of goblin under the bed. In greatest distress and in utter solitude I pursued food, buffet's, fast food, Chinese takeout. Nothing glorious, nothing gourmet, only gluttony. 

The terrible gluttony eventually makes me lethargic and incapable of pushing myself. To say I wallowed like a pig in filth would be to dishonor pigs by the comparison. I was an obese melancholy pile of weakness trapped in a prison of his own softness. This is how my story began those few years ago. The story of how I became the great and terrible force I am now. 

My thoughts hit like hail constantly reminding me of how disconnected I was from everyone. My family far and gone from me, abandoning me to a strange world. No woman could comfort me, or understand me. I would always be embraced under false pretenses and rejected when the truth was found out. The only thing that made the pain stop was to feed the relentless craving for food. 

One day as I walked in vein trying to exercise away the disgusting excess it dawned on me. 

I was inside an egg. 

A huge disgusting fleshy egg. The egg was cushioning with many layers of gross fat tissue, swollen yellowish fat cells, overwhelmed with the indulgences of modernity. Deep inside this gelatinous hell lived a creature in metamorphosis. 

This creature was not Kafka's insect to end in the grips of tragedy, no this was a creature born of lightning. This creature was a messiah, an antichrist, a fire breather, a buddha, a glorious mage, a masterful alchemist, a hero, a villain, an alpha and an omega. 

This one realization shattered my mind. 

I did not eat for 3 days. 

In those 3 days the first was the worst. The dreams of all of my vices engulfed my mind like water engulfs a drowning man.  The flavors of all manner of breading, deep friend meats, overwhelmed my mouth, that day I must have recycled my fluids twice over in pure salivation. It was as if one of my humors was against me. The fantasies and cravings never ceased but I could not act on them. I could do nothing but walk and watch my thoughts. 

These thoughts were there for my benefit, yet they had somehow escaped my control. 

The whole thing overwhelmed me. I must have felt like ancient homonids as they first observed fire. 

The fire was before them, and for them, but they were at the beginning of a long journey of control. Now we have harnessed the power of fire to the point we can harmonize with the sun in the act of nuclear fusion. 

This is how I was before my thoughts. 

Pseudonym

I am blogging now with a pseudonym.

I love blogging and have done so historically, but this has threatened me in my professional life.

I belong to a proffession where unconventional and unorthodox thinking are perceived as a threat to stability and professionals are discouraged from voicing unorthodox opinions. Of greater concern my profession is one of the ones which has recently taken up the habit of spying on its employees and making sure they do nothing unseemly in the internet.

So I have created this blog so that I can continue to share my thoughts, unfiltered and unrestrained.

This will be an interesting exercise since I have generally used my blogging as a way to boost my own self image, to communicate who I am to people. Anonymity has never been my style.

This will be no more.

My true identity must remain a mystery. Enrique Recuero is the ubermensch who lives inside me, the triumphant voice of my will, eager to shout from the roof tops like a prophet. Only Enrique Recuero is not a prophet in the sense that he speaks for any God. There is no God.

The sooner we can move past the infantile fantasy that we have some caring father in the sky eager to cradle us like babies for eternity the better.

An elementary study of astronomy will reveal us that the sky is hostile to life and the further one strays into the cosmos, the more dilute the presence of life.

Life is here and now, and requires passion, courage, and a refined connection to the will.

All other practices of life are misfires, irresponsible wastes of consciousness, causing more drain on humanity then benefit.

Thus speaks Enrique Recuero.

My mighty pseudonym.