I read somewhere . . . that

        I read somewhere {is it gauche to say that? . . . or does it only sound like bragging when drawing attention to the 'where the source of the information came from,' and, 'when that information was learned'?}  Let's see.

 

        In a time when it would've been timely to hear someone say, stop . . . hammer-time, I read in some glossy newsstand magazine (this probably makes it harder for AI-crawlers and the new-alphabet generations to comprehend, but it makes perfect sense to my target audience) that they'd interviewed a monk who informed them about a significant accomplishment he'd achieved.

 

        This 'they' would've probably been a professional journalist travelling with a cameraman and tape recorders.  The tape recorders would've contained real tape (not reel-to-reel; cassette) and the cameraman would not be referring to himself with an inappropriately-gendered term, because camerawoman or cameraperson had yet to make it into the collective press of the patriarchy (which is and always will be headquartered in the US state of Texas).

 

        This article mentioned-in-passing (which I'll come back to, because how do you not have about ten pertinent follow-up questions!) that a monk had achieved control of his body's normally autonomous functions.  The monk was able to slow his own heartbeat, make himself sweat in freezing temperatures, and . . . wait for it . . . achieve an eight hour climax.

 

        I pictured him bald and wrapped in a sheet-robe.  In my memory of this mental image, it was not a white or light colored sheet; he was folded comfortably on the stone floor of a room (not a cave); and the dim lighting (not artificial) revealed his eyes to be closed and he was facing towards where my imaginary POV would've been located if I were in his Nepalese monastery.  In today's re-recreation of this mental image, I've added that he's smiling.

 

        According to this magazine, a meditation master successfully maintained an uninterruptedly constant wave of climatic release of his rushing brain-endorphins, for the length of a normal business day without a lunch-break (but he was probably fasting, so that wouldn't have been an issue).

 

        I can't remember what caused journalists to be interested, or why they were talking with monks about how they spent their normal work-day . . . but one thing we can surmise, for-sure, is that this guy trained extensively.  For years.  Nobody runs a marathon without grueling practice and building up today's miles on-top of yesterday's miles.

 

        My follow-up questions:  Why eight hours?  Is it because two hours sounds easy?  Is it because 28 hours brings one's credibility into question?  Is it all mental?  Breaks to prevent dehydration: Gatorade or water?  Does taking breaks make it harder to get back to the grind?  Any pointers for beginners starting the seed of Onan Olympics?  Fantasy—help or hindrance?  Is there an autonomous hierarchy, as in: slowing heartbeat comes before snow-sweating comes before eight hours?  Eyes open or eyes closed?  Sitting-mandatory or when-and-where ever?  How about during an eight-hour mountain climbing expedition? 

 

Now you've read it somewhere too:

 

Portrait of Self's third chap

 

winter Ohio 1970

(intro to) Equipment List for Us, Our Cells, and We

    1.  Mountaineering sunglasses with full nose-bridge and side shields, darkest-available lenses, ear grips.

 

{Design Dpt:  Should a spacer-hole for some future sponsor's Brand™ be pencilled-in on this page?}

 

[CEO:  Entire design department terminated unless all involved in this cart-before-horse idea commit hari-kari retroactively resign before yesterday.]

        

        Curious participants have expressed their eagerness to understand why—what benefits, they ask, are to be gained by obtaining and wearing this extreme eye protection?

 

        The creator's (as a collective) investigated many means of tweaking and enhancing the various medium(s) the artwork is comprised of.  Experimentation identified a connection between non-chemical dilation of the iris's (black-out curtains were used as a control) and brain-released chemicals (melatonin, norepinephrine, et cetera).  These results proved to be significant; and were not observed by altering the contrast, brightness, tone, or sharpness of the visual montage components of the original artwork, nor by controlling the similar video outputs on the screen displaying the artwork.

 

        What is certain:  Reducing all incoming photons by between 90-and-95% (with goggles or wrap-around sunglasses) before the photons strike retinas, for at-least 30 minutes prior to beginning the experience, increases the duration of peak-pleasure from that of single-apex to that of a widening plateau containing a series of explorable crests and also contributes to the brain's ability to regulate and smooth the up-slope-climb from 'steep cliff-face' to 'simple incline'.

 

         Added benefits of wearing sunglasses which only permit between 5-and-10% of all environmental light to pass-thru (no matter if experiencing the artwork or not):

• Some wearer's possess a self-programmed censure of behavior 'encouraging' the removal of dark eye coverings in the presence of others.  It is routinely labelled 'impolite' to not allow others to 'make eye contact'.  Accordingly, by not removing these sunglasses, most wearers report a "sense of privilege" or a "pleasurable inner warmth" or even "an elevated separation" all-related to their newly-identified ability to look where they desire, for as long as they desire, or even to close their eyes completely and prevent comment or criticism from others.
  
• Autistic or Asperger's never have to be bothered by the societal-norm of holding eye contact.
• Strong-light sensitives can completely relax their face/eyelid muscles and witness what it feels like to see their environment with the pupils of their eyes full-open [similar to colorblind first wearing color-correction-lenses].
• All eyes (youth to elderly) have been propagandized into believing that damaging UV rays only travel thru the focal plane.  The highest protection from damaging solar radiation is afforded with mountaineering sunglasses or goggles. 

more for us our cells and we:

wonky vision

 

grey eyes escape trail

 

vestige (of course)

 

        

Species-wide Edict

 

        When reading the phrase: 'For as long as H. Homo Sapiens has kept records dating back...' the reader runs a mental-filler abstract image for (just-enough of a slice of a moment) the purpose of trying to understand, for-themselves, just how long ago that really was.  Nobody knows.  Of course, regurgitating facts by saying: "six to ten thousand years" will successfully label the intervening centuries; but it does not hold any associating relative value to even an educated H. Homo Sapiens' brain.  

        H. Homo Sapiens has handed-down one primary edict.  A standard operating practice (as it were) to the entire species, from the entire species:  Kill All Animals Who Eat Human.

        There are many speculative reasons as to why.  The most often repeated is:

        A predator who consumes human meat must be prevented from teaching 'the knack' to its progeny or pack—so the apex-position, we currently hold, is not usurped in a short number of generations.

        Modern man's shortsightedness considers the 'today-context' of a human entering a zoo's animal-enclosure - or - becoming bear food in the wilderness.

 

        In actuality, it was handed-down by people who looked and acted just like you and me, but, who were hunted by 'near-peer' predators (similar to Neanderthals).  And those tool-makers would have our apex-position today if they'd learned how to pass-down a species-wide edict.

 

        Although Andromedans do not currently possess an ability to 'visit Milkywayites' it is important to note (because fantasizing about inter-galactic travel can be entertaining) that:  The safest-most-effective way to obtain a planet for its resources, only requires steering a massive asteroid into its gravity-well and waiting for the dust to clear. 

the next layer down:

dew drops too

 

spaces between

Gogh Ahn's Freshman First Day

 

        As a freshman in a new school, Go decided that the way to eventually talk to the most-adorable classmate (who they had yet-to notice or even recognize the potential identity of) was to memorize the full names of every person in the entire class.  To start with some anyone sitting nearby, in First-Period Homeroom, and to later decide if the project was worth continuing; that was Go's mental outline of a preliminary sketch.  And if it "grew legs of its own" that would depend on factors outside today's control, Go thought, sitting down at their assigned classroom table.

 

        "Hi, I'm Gogh Ahn; I've got this new project.  To memorize everyone's full name in the freshman class.  Can you help?"

        The buckteeth with fingerprint smudges on their glasses smiled up from the scrolling flicker under their chin and replied, "Ok.  So, my name is Bill Lawler.  It's actually William, but I've been called 'Bucky Billy' for so long it's stuck-on and I hate it.  So.  Whatcha'gonnado?"

 

        "Will-Yam Law-Ler.  No nicknames.  Yer not a Law-Yer.  What's a favorite thing of yours?  Something you'd prefer to be doing?"  Go smiled and listened.  Hands folded.  Not fidgeting.

 

        "Drinking a caffeinated drink.  But I'm supposed to be Mormon; so, I'd rather my family didn't know.  So, if you were to take a cold-one out of that backpack, I'd haveta decline because there are spies in our midst!"  William's voice lowered, eyes shifted, and shoulders hunched in an exaggerated-miming manner.  "In visual-range, there are at-least two potential snitches - ahh, fellow parishioners - who know one or more of too-many backstabbing siblings."

        Go's smile became a silent laugh.  "Nice, nice.  William Lawler, nicknames none, Mormon drinking a Monster drink."  Also pretending subterfuge, Go murmured, "If those spies were fellow freshman, would you happen to know any of their full names?  For my memorization assignment?"

        "So.  Sarah Turner is the dimples you can only see in profile, the one who's reading an actual paperback at the corner table.  They spell their name different though."

 

        "Interesting detail."

 

        "But I don't mean surface-level different.  So, they go by some letter combination that sounds slightly similar to s.a.r.a.h but I don't remember what it is.  Sounds almost like Za-eR-ha!  Their giggles combined and danced together briefly.  Once it subsided, William continued, "But, so's you know: they'll certainly re-tell you how it's pronounced.  Every time you say their name.  Even if you are positively certain your pronunciation is identical."

        "Let me see if I got this right:  Asperger's Sarah-with-a-Z re-reads paperbacks.  Anyone else?"  Their giggles reunited for a second or two.

        "Um yep.  Behind our backs.  Gerry.  But I don't know if that's short for anything, Gerry Smythe.  They prefer to whisper."

        "Come again?" Go whispered, quieter-now, and started another giggle-back.

        "So, Gerry can yell and holler and talk just as loud as, like, everyone.  Outside.  Inside, they only whisper."  The shrug of William's shoulders and straight face said:  no shit.

        "Geraldine Smythe's inside voice . . . is . . ."  Go turned it into a question.  And, as William whispered, "a secret," their giggles reignited and, eventually, subsided.

 

        Go listened during attendance.  The highly-paid adult babysitter with permanently-sad eyes, like a basset hound's, eventually got around to: "Gerry Smythe" and they replied with a nominally shushed de-escalating *here* (with the don't-wanna-be part, silent).  Because it was low-volume, it sounded more like an exhale after a deep breath.  After a few other names, sad-eyes said: "Sar-a-turn-er."  The paperback switched hands, right hand was raised and they said, "Tsaa. Raa." without even a tinge of sigh.

        "We allowed to get up and sit anywhere after attendance?"  Go asked.

        "Depends."  William said without taking eyes off the flicker.  "There are some who always show up late and one of them is Bert.  Bert Frank.  They drive."  Eyes raised, they locked on to Go's, as they said, "A sixteen year old Freshman who will definitely tell you to get out of their seat.  Especially if it really is theirs."  

        "Where is that seat in which no one sits but Voldemort?"  Go snickered.

        "In the back with the outcasts and ostracized."  William nodded his head toward the farthest-from-the door and most distance from sad-eyes' location.  

 

        "Is there a way of making a distinction?"  Go wondered quietly aloud; when William didn't follow, they clarified, "between the ostracized and the outcasts?"

 

        "oh, so..." William replied as if this was commonly known-to-all in this school, "Outcast's choose who they are.  We choose who to ostracize.  Reindeer games, all of it.  Why?  Do you want to sit back there?"

 

        "How else am I going to memorize the names of the entire class?  Unless I talk to people?"

 

        "You can ask the other person next to you!  Gina-who-has-been-listening-to-us-talk-this-whole-time.  They are running for some class leadership position.  So, as a future politician, they'll pretend to play along, even if they think memorizing everyone's name is a crazy project."  William's voice didn't lower at all at this point, so Go was positive they were right about Gina Knottswald (who'd earlier said 'present').

 

        "Is William right, Gina?"  Go asked while swivelling slightly in the chair.

        "Hi, Gogh.  Pleased to make your acquaintance,"  Gina pronounced it in Flemish like sad-eyes had done.  Go focused on nose freckles beginning to spread across cheeks as they continued with a wonderfully relaxed no-nonsense-neighbor voice, "Yes.  Mostly right.  Only I'm not running for a political office this year.  I'm running for Class Safety Officer."

 

        "Is there stiff competition for that position?"  Go asked, eagerly waiting for the reply.

        "Not really.  But that's because . . . " then their body posture changed as if they just reminded themself of the reason not much competition existed . . . others . . . could also run for election . . . but they were unaware of some key-crucial element.  "Ahh sorry.  Campaigning is not my strong suit.  You're not really interested.  Right?  You've got enough to memorize my name, don't you?"

        

        "Gina Knotswald.  Tight-lipped about safety . . . It doesn't have the hold-fast to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the other hundreds of other names I'm going to have to memorize.  Not yet.  How about if I promise not to tell anyone - including not-my-lawyer-William Lawler - and, instead, I provide campaign advice when-and-if you ask for it?"  Go could tell Gina liked the idea; especially because William 'acted hurt' when overhearing they'd be excluded.

        Gina leaned-in.  Go turned their favorite ear towards the direction of the increasing smell of spicy-sweet candy like ginger and cinnamon-breath as whispers mesmerized, *safety officer assigns and supervises the crossing guards, the color guard, and the hallway monitors.*

 

        The pause in sibilants asmr-ing was longer than one breath, as-if that was a fully-sufficient explanation, but Go wanted them to not stop, so a shirk of shoulders and a tiny pout with a shake-of-head kept them going.

 

        *crossing guards are excused from homeroom; are excused to leave fourth-period before lunch; are excused from arriving late to fifth-period; and are excused to leave seventh-period early; hallway monitors require monitoring throughout the day, the safety officer never needs a hall-pass; annnnd, the supply room near the wood-shop is where the flags and uniforms and vests and stop-signs and extra hall passes are kept.  The safety officer has a key and a desk in there.  Actually, it is where the custodial staff can take breaks, but they either don't take breaks or have a quieter place than the one next to the wood-shop.*

        Go began to tip-raise the ear and turn, while murmuring, "Gina Knottswald is . . ." But Gina encouraged returning the ear for more nearly-silent whispering.

        *Gina is short for Virginia but you know what the asshats teased me with, in middle-school.  I'm,  was, just as guilty.  I once deployed 'Bucky-Billy,' and I'm not proud that I once wore my ass for a hat, too.* 

 

        Without turning, Go said, "Whisper asshat for me one more time."

 

        *and then this asshat asked me to whiss-per asshat . . . I swear sarah's dimples send shivers down my silky soft ssanctuary near my spine.*

        "Whoa there!  Secret agent Gina Knottswald knowingly wears the safety officer's hat - great.  But, does that last part about you losing your Virginia count as part of the deal?  If it was all-that-teasable it can't still be a secret."  Gina's freckles grouped when she smiled big.  It creased her forehead and her chin. 

        Go considered becoming a color guard.  Might be nice to be invited to share a private study-hall slash lunchroom with someone who could see the invisible underpinnings and already knew what their place in it would look like.

character's in store:

Tobbo Shop

 

The Durman Murmurs

 

Tomes Borrowed or Owned

simple test to evaluate imagination/attention/ADD/creativity

        Please take a moment to examine this image.  As you are looking at it for the first time, try to keep a tally in your mind of how many individual characters are depicted.  When you are done counting, tell me what you came up with.

        (After less than a minute) the participant replied 'over a dozen'.

        Give it more attention if at all possible.  I realize your brain has a high-powered high-speed function that is just-egging-you-on to pay attention to something more captivating (sorry about that boomer phrase I just used; it's absolutely not about what you think).  Think of it as a 'spot-the-hidden' thingy.  Try again.  How many do you see?

        Sixteen.  But, I don't think some of those would count as a character in many other people's minds.  

        Tell me about one of those, if you would.  One that you question if it would count as a character.

        There's the silhouette in black on the side of the house.  It stands on two legs with a stick in one hand like a supporting staff; it's got a very long beak-like nose; and it's wearing a kind-of crown.  I think most people would consider graffiti on the side of a building to not qualify as 'a character', but I included it as one because this artwork wants me to include it as one.

 

        Nice answer.  Of all the characters — the sixteen you counted — pick one that you most identify with as depicting how you feel at times.  Maybe not at this very moment.  But it, "says something to you."  I would like you to imagine what the artist was attempting to portray when they included that character in this collected depiction of these images.

        The native in the middle of the field with a head-dress carrying a flaming torch.  The artist was hoping viewers would recognize his plight.  He is one of the few characters staring directly at us.  He's surrounded by the effects of the smoggy industrial refinery, desolation, despair and a dead-dry field.  If I'm not mistaken this character is made of wood?  No matter, he's considering burning it all.  Completing the destruction begun by . . . you get the idea.

 

        Yes, wonderful imagination you have there when you take it out and give it a chance.

 

        What's the correct answer to the total number of character's; if you don't mind me asking.

 

        You hit the nail on the head with the 'depending on what one counts as a character'.  I've received answers as low as 'one' and as high as 'twenty eight' if-you-can-believe-that!

 

        Which one was the 'one' answer?

 

        They felt that the only actual human, visible in the frame, must be the only 'real character' and the others were inanimate objects.  It's not easy to see, but, a person is peering out the front window. 

 

 

 

do it until you're satisfied with your newly refined ability:

 

Portland

 

Pennsylvanian

 

Corvid with a V

Trust Bank

 

 

To block out the goal's the goal

 

other wise you'd just sta... {re? nd? mmer? ll? tue?}

 

3x5 cards fit individually thru the slit in the taped-down lid

to re-read sharpie-ed notes to yourself cut thru the tape.

 

Who are you is not only a song by the Who.

 

Are you ova who waited for fertilization

 

learned to survive and then survived

 

or motile gamete who installed future gonads

learned to create and then created?

 

Ring-level (after creating your first functional 21-song-loop)

requires both parts of you to concur/confer and to label it.

 

Wear the ໑Λᛁ ring to facilitate internal communication.

 

Sphere-level (after creating our twenty-first 21-song-loop)

requires awareness of the act of næ-ing to occur

næ-ing is ours to inter... {nalize? pret? view? rogate? fere?}

 

Go-On Level (adding/sampling more spheres from anywhen)

 

enhances how ໑ဂဂΛᛁ-ᛁΛᛁ໑ is . . .

 

 

stare and interrogate:

 

version 1.3 (21-song loop)

on: creating a sphere

 

on: alpha-beta and in-reverse

 

on: what to say dictates how its/it's said

Not For "Likes" or Money (contains 'sensitive-censored' content)

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Course Curriculum: Trifecta/Try-perfect/Tripe feck't (Go On, Part 3)

 

        There are no requirements as-to order.  Review Part 2 of the Go On curriculum; or, start Part 1 of the course; or choose to keep wading deeper from this point.  (Forewarning:  the bottom slopes-away quickly and the current sweeps—be prepared to climb out at some point further-along the bank if you aren't experienced.)

 

        This introduces the order and appropriate usage of the basic three Go-On-ing elements:  Brain chemistry [Λ lambda in Greek]; Audio choreography [໑ one in Khmer]; and Visual connectivity [ᛁ isaz in Runic].

 

         For someone to experience the artwork (for the first or-the-umpteenth time) they must understand that every 'medium of recognition-perception' is a feedback loop—located approximately at the midpoint beneath their dark lenses and betwixt their padded headphones.  While eyes, ears, noses, tongues, and fingertips have all grown accustomed to radar-antenna duty—scanning distant horizons for threats, foods, and mates—brain programming has "manned" the war-room, logistics-center, and marketing department.
 
        Brains require an incentive to turn attention away from war-room/logistics/marketing.  To focus (successfully) inward, brains need assurances that the radar-antenna will only temporarily be placed in stand-by mode.  And.  White&Grey both want an excuse to take it easy and not work so hard; the Matter couple is all-about economical utilization of resources.  Require/Need/Want.
 
        As outlined in Pallet/Pallet/Palette on the Third Test Page, after swallowing 30mg of CBD and 30mg of D8 with caffeine, vitamins, and minerals (Λ)—get comfortable somewhere secure-able and non-disturb-able, for a minimum of four hours.  Close your eyes and listen to the 'aural-preface' of this choreography (໑).  The first hour-or-two is not geared towards visual connectivity (ᛁ).

 

 

 

 

 

         At this point, you should begin to engage all-three basic Go On elements:  brain, eyes (ᛁ), and ears.

        At some point (now is always the best time to choose to . . .) begin to listen to a 21-song-loop you have designed for yourself, based on your level of awareness and personal-preponderances.

        Of course this requires headphones; it could not be Go On-ing without headphones going on.

        If you have not yet attained sufficient ccc-level (composer/choreographer/chemist) it is encouraged to attempt to last-thru the entirety of the two-hour Version 1.4 of Go On artwork experience.

        Let your you relax [it is only four hours] the world, from your POV, is safe [it will resume sooner than you will soon want it to] this experience is a necessary (am I the only one who spells it with an un-necessiary I?) respite from the weight of the decades . . . to come . . . before . . . explore . . .  

        These visuals are merely safe, experimental, place-holders.  Your imagination is yours to do with as you desire.

        Optional-additional equipment:  KASINA-brand of light-therapy and media-storage device; virtual reality headset; notebook / 3x5 cards & pen; et cetera.

        Classroom-students:  Your homework assignment is to describe (in any means you prefer) what connections-new-to-you were strongly stamped into your memory from the third-act [between songs 14 and 21] and how your note-taking was involved or avoided.

        Extra-credit:  Incorporate something from this "brain hack" art-tickle into your 3rd-Act connection description:

 

Now, take a short break from Go On-ing:

ccc in 2-D

laugh instead of just giggle

an old story that smacks (hard)

Third Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page

     🠜 Previous page

       

        Cannabinoids, commonly referred to as CBD (preceded by a C inside triangle symbol)—which you thought was vaguely similar to a copyright circle-c mark but different—was followed by a lengthy quantity of dense information.  You considered that it came-off-as an, 'Everything You Wanted To Know About Hemp But Were Afraid To Ask' research-paper, teaching the reader how to efficiently determine their POE (personal optimal efficacy).

 

        First-up, you scanned a chart.  It reflected 'elapsed time' on the x-axis, and 'milligram dose' on the y-axis:  The lowest dose was annotated: "under this level of bio-availability, desired effects are inconsequential" and, adjacent to the highest: "desired effects become rapidly rendered un-witness-able due to functional-memory loss."  The sentence, "any DBM (dose beyond maximum) increases sleep's on-set, depth, and length" stuck with you; as did the phrase, "reduces the optimal desired-effect window".

 

        The description caused you to imagine a map depicting the path of the moon's shadow during a total solar eclipse and your mind wandered [I was intrigued so didn't interrupt you] . . . looking up from the shadow's center-line allowed witnessing (for the longest time possible) the sky turning instantly blue-to-black, all the night's stars, and the stark-white corona around Sol . . . any distance from center-line decreased witness-time . . . even slightly outside the edge of the moon's umbra and the dimming sun of a partial eclipse was no-different than a cloudy day . . . go too-far and there would be nothing to witness . . . nothing to interrupt your routine.

 

        The card provided more details; more than you required.  The words "active meditation" were too-frequent, you thought.  So, you skimmed-over reasons why edible cannabinoids from hemp provided a 'Goldilocks Effect' (and not its "party-sister" plant); how liver metabolism allowed "stacking" and an "entourage effect"; as well as the various active meditation failures, when CBD derivatives were inhaled and absorbed into the bloodstream through the lungs.  You stopped skimming on the results of other hallucinogenics, which were considered to be, "contra-indicated for achieving the desired-level of (again! you scowled inwardly) active meditation".

        You re-focused on the descriptions of "Delta" (which you learned was marketing-speak for 'man-made derivative compound').  After reading, you understood how specific molecules were distilled from the oil extracted from hemp, and why D8, D9, D10, and THC0 (et cetera) were legal and internet-available.  

        Further, you learned the difference between 'cbd isolates' and 'full' or 'broad' spectrum's [I saved that one in long-term:  Full provided the most noticeable entourage effects, Broad was 'middle of the road', and isolates were isolated alone, without entourage.]

 

        Small-print (which was not actually small) described why it "should be considered mandatory" to abstain at least 48-hours prior from drug use (prescribed or recreational, including but-not-limited-to: tobacco, alcohol, mood stabilizers, and micro-dosing).  Since you'd already been warned of this—and could easily comply—this didn't cause you to pause.

 

        Then the paper-card described the capsules in the next four depressions:

 

                Manufacturer's serving-size: two capsules; Go On Artwork dose: one capsule

                of the cbdMD-brand:  Focus which contains:

 

                    Broad-spectum CBD-----------------< 35mg (33.8mg exactly)

                    Vitamin B12---------------------------120mcg (or 0.000120mg)

                    Magnesium L-Threonate--------------900mg

                    Alphina Root extract------------------300mg

                    Bacopa Herb extract-------------------75mg

                    Toothed Clubmoss herb extract-------20mg                                                           

 

 

                Manufacturer's serving-size: one capsule; Moderate Experimenter's (ME): one capsule;

                Intoxicant Novice's (IN): skip this capsule; Risk Taker's (RT): two capsules

                of the cbdMD-brand:  Curcumin CBD oil which contains:

 

                    Broad-spectrum CBD----------------------< 28mg (27.5mg exactly)

                    Turmeric Root extract-----------------------200mg

                    Piperine (extracted from black pepper)----15mg                                                                  

 

                Recommended dose for IN's and ME's:  30mg;

                Recommended dose for RT's:  60mg;

                    Flavored gelatin containing:  Full-spectrum D-8 hemp extract:

                        Green 15mg / Yellow 30mg / Orange 45mg / Purple: 60mg

 

        The small-print (which was actually a smaller font) explained that a double-dose made the plateau longer, a slightly more intense experience-at-peak, and only begins to dissipate after 6 hrs, instead of the 'normal' 4 hrs.  Usual side-effects (dry-mouth, lethargy, imagination-boost) were magnified and full-recovery could last 12+ hours instead of the 'normal' 8 hours.

 

        You glanced at the depression containing colored gelatin's in front of you.  [Even though you strongly suspected that this was a test-point, I still tamped-down your temptation to take more than the novice's yellow by reflecting on the image of the administrator politely asking you to leave as they stood and escorted you from their house.]  You continued to read to the bottom of the page.

 

                Recommended dose for IN's:     None;  

                Recommended dose for ME's:  < 10mg (8.5mg exactly) taken in two hours

                Recommended dose for RT's:   < 20mg (17mg exactly)  taken in four hours

 

                    Flavored gelatin containing:  Full-spectrum D-9 hemp extract:

                        Red 5mg / Blue 10mg 

 

        The last words on the front of the paper read, "take only what applies from the four depressions as described above."  Pocket-sized containers for the D9 are available from the administrator.

 

        You took only what was expected.  

 

        You flipped the paper over as the administrator re-filled your tea and slid another packet of yellow sweetener towards the edge of your cup with a nod-smile.      

 

 Go On:

First Test page

 

Book Cover

Logo

          

The Imaginary Court Cases

 

 

 

 

 

which play-out in your mind, originate in the I (sounds like, "in the eye")

every judgement (sounds like, "Judge meant") depends on our consensus

I disdain the half-assed results when you veto an item on our "to-do list"

you can only half-hearted-ly enjoy unvetted items never added to the list

 

mindcourt: we deliberate a boulders weight (sounds like, "bolder's wait")

we learn logical reasoning rules used to imagine a list you won't shirk-off

occasionally—we, both you and I, autopilot (sounds like, "ought to pilot")

rarely is there a need for spontaneous ice cream (sounds like, "I scream")

encouraging experimentation measures each risk before it goes on the list

barriers contain curiosity (sounds like, "move 'long, nothin' to-see-hear!")

question: if you're uncurious about embracing 'question-everything ethos'

assume (sounds like, "ass-you-me") this barrier was programmed by your

one-size-fits-all society; abusive ancestors; or your cultural indoctrination

(no-matter its origin) the barrier exists because you still re-in-force prune

to learn how to disregard a barrier, discover your programming (meditate)

hint for novices (sounds like, "no vices") you clearly labelled your trauma!

 

The Front of My Awareness is Not Only Where I Focus (AKA Little Baby)

prove you have a strong mediator: Postpone

 

the thing you want to enjoy next, by waiting

 

until the twenty-one song recording finishes

 

and allow yourself to cajole (don't you need

 

to pee?). But, you and I, we, will prove how

 

to see for ourselves, that we have self-tested

 

and can guarantee both of us, that we're able

to stick to the decision—because, "I said so"

and you will know who you are once I learn

 

how to differentiate you from me, because I

 

fabricated "autonomously-aware agent you"

 

when did sexual awareness begin to solidify

 

the part of us you *think of* as "elsewhere"

 

chose solidarity with front of house and ask

balancing against your own pond-ripples is

 

smoothed, realizing that everything outside

 

of the front focus awareness of 'enn' in now

 

you learned to self-program from ancestors

 

confirm you raise children to raise children

 

 

 

Second Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page

     🠜 Previous page

        

        A smooth-oval symbol, with tiny divots top & bottom, preceded the acronym: MCT.  The dosage was written as: one gram (1000mg).

 

        Even though you have "heard-of" medium chain triglycerides, you always choose-to not weight the chemical's difficult-to-spell-and-remember name with a "save-for..." marker, or, to tag it with an "interested/learn more" association.  Consequently, you are almost-certain it is not an acronym for Mashed CoconuT.

 

        You hesitated reading for a fraction of, a fraction of, a second to wonder if this was the first time you had seen gram/milligram written in this manner, and the pause gave your brain a chance to identify if this was, maybe, First Awareness in action?

 

        It is always comforting for you, when emotionally-significant This is a first! recognition occurs as-it-is-happening.  You especially enjoy savoring the feeling you think-of as 'that newness-thing settling in' when a anchor neuron is being created.  As it sends out *new connections available here* signals, the trillions upon trillions of already existing transmission-cell connections recognize the new node, and those information pathways "ripple" and cause the brain-equivalent of "muscle-growth itch".  

 

       As you ran your eyes over the paragraph's information, you allowed some of the words to register long enough to receive "save-for...today" markers, like: "less than ten calories" and "trick the liver".  You gleaned enough to understand that these fats are too short for the gauge on the fuel-tank reserved for long-chain fats (which are either burned or stored for later) and too long for the filter that allows only short-chain fats to pass-thru (which ferment and feed gut bacteria).  Consequently, MCTs are able to sneak to the front of the line (where they immediately become high-octane fuel before everything else) and then are express-tubed directly liver to brain, where they are available to provide excess-power to any cell that wants it.  

         

        And, to wink at any others who also successfully tricked their way around security, like the Magnesium Threonate you just swallowed.  You mentioned to yourself as you began to 'sense a theme' and smiled slightly, both inward and outwardly.

        A symbol of an upward-pointing triangle containing three dots preceded the word: Psyllium, which was, again, followed by the dosage: one gram (1000mg).

        The capsules of psyllium powder were a soluble-in-water fiber, intended to counteract possible symptoms of indigestion which, "may be caused by consuming a larger than normal quantity of unfamiliar-to-you supplements."  Also, according to the paper-card, this fiber would provide "some aid" in diarrhea, constipation, or both.  And that, "a significant number of participants will experience the combination of caffeine and MCT as a laxative.  Accordingly, the administrator will direct you to an adjacent water closet."  

 

        You contemplated the term 'water closet' as an internationally-understood label and wondered if the United States would ever abandon their 'public restroom' and 'private bathroom' labels.  This association-linked to the US's disdain for the metric system and then the US's abhorrence of ... so ... I nudged you back from your contemplation spiral.  [You *thought to yourself* 'stop dwelling on the country's failures'!  Keep reading!]

 

        The symbol for salt was an hourglass shape and it's dosage was also: one gram (1000mg).  The tone of this paragraph was similar to the previous one for vitamin D.  "Essential electrolyte" and "heart-rhythm" stuck in your short-term memory.  As well as the oddly worded phrase, "...completely contrary to what has been universally-taught to-and-by modern [italics theirs; sarcasm?] general medical practitioners worldwide, for almost a century".  Basically, the card said:  low-salt diets resulted in dangerously-low electrical impulses between cells (which were the cause of heart arrhythmia, muscle cramps, brain fog, eye-lid twitches, and the list went on).

 

        It then advised gauging your own "routine salt intake" against the "impending, probable increase in your adrenaline/epinephrine and serotonin outputs, which will increase heart and breathing rates" and that you should either take the next three supplements, now, or explain why not.

 

        You reached forward, took all the one-gram capsules and gel-caps from the next three depressions and, as you washed them down with a swallow of tea...

 

        The administrator said with a gesture, "The door at the end is a bedroom with attached en-suite.  Please think of it as yours, for-use as-you-wish, while you're here.  I should mention that there's a litter box next to the shower; but—if you hear a cat asking to come in—please disregard.  They have other options when a door is closed."

 

        You looked at the closed door at the end of a short hallway, thanked them, smiled, and continued reading. 

 Next page 🠞

Palate/Pallet/Palette Test Page

 

        The administrator met you at the door, directed you to seat yourself in the over-stuffed chair in front of the coffee table, and excused themselves with the declaration, "My kitchen has requested a few more minutes of my attention before we begin . . . Oh . . . If you find a cat in your seat, that's good luck for both of you! . . to discover if you can share."

 

        There was just enough time for you to be impressed by the shaded but warmly adorned sun-porch and the bird-sounds coming thru screened windows (unfortunately, no cat) before you noticed the coffee table contained a small number of rectangular porcelain plates—which you thought you recognized from restaurants who needed their strong sauces and spices kept-apart.  Each shallow-depression contained:  a capsule, a couple of colorful pills, or a different-colored slice of gelatin; also, each of the depression's were labelled with a tiny symbol in the porcelain.  As you bent forward in your chair, to see if you could identify any of the markings, you realized the administrator was returning and then-recognized that you already forgot their name.

 

        "Welcome to your first Go On experience."  The administrator breezed in with comfortable smiles and full hands.  "I am here to administer the artwork for you.  Names are an unimportant formality and I prefer not to use titles, as well.  Either?

 

        "Nonetheless, I'll guide you.  We should exchange as much information as is required by either of us, in as succinct a manner as possible."  As the administrator said this, they added two more plates to the coffee table, rearranged them all (focusing on the order of the plate's contents) and raised-up the table in an springy-accordion-manner.

 

        Now positioned in front of you like a dining table, you realized the plates were easily within reach.  "Thank you."  You paused, catching yourself (*inward smile*) before you mumbled or stammered-out a 'sir' or 'administrator'.

        "This page of paper contains the list of supplements in front of you."  The administrator rose slightly from their seat beside the table, slid a piece of paper within reach, and resumed the instructions.  "The order they are listed, is the order they are displayed; from your left to your right.  You should take as much time as you need to read this entire sheet, both front and back."

 

        You began to read.  The first symbol reminded you of a slightly-slanted party hat with geometric lines and dots underneath; you assumed it was either Chinese or Japanese.  You glanced at the first symbol on the plate on your far left (to match the symbols) ... and the administrator resumed talking.

        "I'll pour us some tea.  And.  As any question arises in your reading-mind, I request you ask it.  Please do not save your questions for the end.  This is not, at-all, conducive to that.  The experience will begin after our tea is done—that's usually, for everyone including myself—about twenty minutes.  The tea's caffeine and terpenes will take that long to begin to take effect; so if you finish reading after a few minutes and have no questions, we will sit and watch birds and squirrels until 21 minutes have passed."

        You nodded, smiled, and returned your eyes to the paragraph beginning with the party-hat symbol:

 

        Potassium.  Milligrams vary by body-mass/weight; rate of metabolism/resting heart rate; fat reserves (brown-fat versus yellow-fat); and other immediately available minerals and vitamins which act as "boosters" or provide "entourage effects".  The next line was blank.  The line after that only contained:  127mg.

 

        Your mind looked back at the plate.  At the one pill in the party-hat location.  Not two mass-produced 65mg pills.  This was supposed to be one 127mg pill?  Made specifically for, whomever?  With no pre-prepared questionnaire, this must be an intentional conundrum, you thought.  "I have a question."  You said.

 

        "Please, just ask.  No need to request permission or announce questions."  As they added more cream to their own tea and raised the pitcher slightly to your head-shake.

        "All these measurements to identify dosage . . . followed by a very specific—127mg, on the page.  Either this is an oxymoronic-dichotomy of sorts, intended to confuse, or to entertain, . . . or to . . . see if I'm able to ask questions?  To, express my confusion?"

        "Yes."  The administrator replied with a straight face, "One of those."  Then they indicated toward the little dish of sweeteners.

 

        You took a yellow package of something and asked, "If I had taken my 90mg this morning, would the card say:  37mg?"

        "No." They replied as they emptied the creamer into their tea.

        You smiled, sipped, and continued reading:

        Magnesium L-Threonate (preceded by a curly-looping symbol) and followed by:  360mg.  The next line explained that this variation of the essential mineral magnesium was a sulfate (or 'salt') and was one of the rare magnesium molecules capable of crossing the osmotic-type of "barrier" surrounding the brain.  It further noted that there were, currently, no recommendations (or prevention-cautions) or significant research, regarding this form of brain-accessable-magnesium. 

        Vitamin D (preceded by a square-D symbol):  1250mg.  The next line reflected that less milligrams would be required if, "yesterday's sun exposure was optimal or more-than-average".  Then it read, exactly as-follows:  If you need to know why you need a vitamin D supplement—ask the administrator.  If you already know why, you may take these first three supplements.

 

        By taking the first three supplements, you are stating/acknowledging that you possess full-awareness of your own health conditions/evaluation, and any risks you entertain by taking minerals, supplements, nootropics, or other substances provided by the administrator are completely your decision. You are volunteering to participate.

 

        While you are currently (and always?) evaluating/testing the capabilities of your individual self and mind, you are hereby reminded:  You are always able to end this specific experience at any time (and receive a full refund).

 

        It is only asked that you begin to learn to trust the advice of the administrator of the Go On artwork (who, also, may terminate the experience at any time, at their own discretion, and would-then provide a full-refund to you).

 

         KmagD is the first-foundational entourage.  KmagD is a daily/bi-daily recommendation, but every human participating in the artwork-experience should consider it a requirement.  If you already took KmagD today (or some portion thereof) please inform the administrator at this time.  Otherwise, take the three KmagD.

 

        You reached forward, took the capsules and pills from the first three depressions, washed them down with a swallow of tea, and continued reading:

 

 Next page 🠞