If you’re anything like me you probably find yourself asking, “How do I enhance my cortical output signal?”
I didn’t know if the answer would ever become clear until I read a scientific study on mental muscle training (http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0028393203003257). And it turns out, training muscle groups with visualized contractions for 12 weeks, 5 days a week, 15 minutes at a time has shown between 13% and 53% increases in measured strength.
We’ve long known that using the mind in certain ways shapes neural pathways in the brain. Well-established pathways can be linked to habits. Some habits will kill you and some positively enrich life. The types of habit formed around the spark of someone’s soul reveals the tendency for automatia of demonstrable genius. Yet, seeing the reach of simple mental application into the physical realm is hard for some people to grasp.
All you really need to understand is that the increase in muscle strength is also accompanied by increases in cortical potentials. Higher cortical potentials, i.e. bigger signals from the brain, drive higher activation levels to the muscles and increase strength.
Therefore, the most rapid way to increase muscle strength without physical training is to increase cortical potentials by forcing the cortical output signal up. In other words…
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You might not know I work with ADHD & social challenges common among many people with Asperger’s, extra intelligence, and giftedness predispositions.
Some people are really surprised to learn I used to be a street gang member during some of my juvenile years. I’ve been initiated into more organizations & societies than I can count on both hands… I even appear in a Discovery Channel documentary about Secret Societies. It’s been educational, to say the least.
I am more comfortable talking with intent to 60 people or 100 people than I am to just 1 or 2 in casual conversation. I’ve always dreamt of being a rock star on stage creating unreal exchanges of emo-intellectual, mind/body orgasms.
When we were kids, I convinced my sister I was god and could change form at will. Indeed, the trickster archetype has been alive and well in me since the age of 8.
It took me more than half of my life to understand why people always regarded me as so smart. In some odd twist of perspective, I often felt stupid for missing their evidence.
My ex-girlfriend often felt insulted by my need to be reminded of simple things.. especially concerning the calendar. I’d often apologize for being so insensitive and promise to remember better. I am memory challenged with mundane details. I usually grasp dynamic aspects of things like everyone else. What I find dynamic and memorable seems vastly different than most.
My kids deserve a father with much better faculties for custodial care and parental affection. Truth is, I’m an upper average empathic and spend a lot of time thinking about peoples experience more than they do (sometimes), but my skill of empathy pales in light of my impulse for abstraction and idea authoring. I’ve resorted to many vile labels and diagnoses to match the guilt I've felt recognizing my inability to be the strong cushion they desire. I am proud I gave them pattern prominence during their most recent critical development stages, but feel disappointing in large part. Fortunate for them, they are fine people with resilient spirits and favor in their eyes. Of everyone I know on Earth, these 3 I am most honored to know. If you know them, you’ll understand why.
I’ve long viewed a vaporous fear phantom from my young adulthood whereby a suggestion made me see that I would risk my kingdom for the estate of a girl.. pyramids versus preciousness… the many darlings of duty at edge for my interest and self-service in the seductive one. Some cases the feminine seemed set against my higher intentions. In other cases I seemed to rather relief in romance than wrestle with raising multitudes. The charge of caring for others is a difficult task for me. I am naturally predisposed to care for those who need it. The weak, the old, the sick, the children, the uneducated, the despairing… I feel strength is to strengthen what is weak. But also, I am rebellious in nearly every fact and act of myself. I am restless against what is settled and over-definitive… so… I could be the gracious evolution of many catastrophes. For I am ever learning that the destruction of one thing is doubtlessly the beginning of newness. So then is the parchance of mistake or folly the same sweeping sword of correctness making and wisdom? Leap and see.
TMI.. I did not begin masturbating until early twenties and I believe this late-developing habit enabled a more prodigious youth transmuting incredible stores of sexual energy into genius output such as music, poetry, charismatic influence, and spiritual conquests. Now this in no way has me corroborating a story of wickedness in masturbation.. but just that sexual energy and emotional energy in general is the human individuals greatest charge of dimension shifting dynamism. Emotional discharge is the highest energy form humans can become adept at manipulating and mastering on this planet. Tesla hints at it when he says.. to understand the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency, and vibration. The human heart aided by the advanced human brain is the most powerful weapon of influence and shield of power in our solar system. Many highly organized individuals don’t want you to ever know, let alone master, the knowledge and operation of high emotional energy. It literally runs the world as we know it. Tangent for your intelligent consideration: Why is sexual detail and sexuality in general handled with such double-standard taboo... I mean... no better got here without it. It's a fine place to start in education, culture, society, and the like.
As a youth, I suspected I was different, special, had some grand destiny to grow into. As a teen and young adult, I feared I’d never know when I would become an adult.. a man according to the standards of society that fatherhood initiated me into. As a middle-aged man… I burn off all the junk I’ve accumulated along the way. No longer posing for the shallow directors and single-smile economies… I strike a pose as I am the road.. I am the journey.. I am the path.
In 2014, I was coming out of the tail-end of an emotional breakdown. Lucky for me it evolved from a nervous breakdown, to emotional hell, to 360 degree confusion… to finding myself literally alone in the desert under the moon surrounded by 13 or so coyotes howling at me while I faced the fire I built with my own two hands. I howled back at them. I sung with the Old Indian who took the form of a fiery bird. I puked out the verdicts of life’s judgments on me. I cried out the battle cry that solidifies the bold-going warrior. I danced in the dust of the sun’s little brother and lost an earthly treasure that bound me by time, name, and grace. I killed a legion of demon named fear and buried the seeds between columns of stone. I crossed 2,800 miles and crashed into tomorrow with enough fuel for a mission to Mercury.
I gave-up too soon once. I didn’t realize it until the bridge had already sent up energious waves of good-bye flames and plumes of “nothing here for you now” smoke signals. I was on the arrow and the will to ascend was aligning right. My ego got loud and tempestuous like a bad child who has single sight for select serotonin relegates. I had fortune lapping up the river, refreshing with me… and then I figured I’m better than the toil.. than the sacrifice… I figured my will was not to be mistreated by some ninny. So I bolted on the poorly executed contract of comprehending parties. And with my exit from domestic stupidity.. I distanced the nerural-modificators that were rewarding my genius growth network. I copped out. My blood-pressure signaled to me… terms I felt not worthy of my involvement. I was really on a roll. Progress and advancement should not be taken lightly. Leaving the 9-5 executive position, also congealed with high blood pressure, but was also accompanied by deepening depression among other near-suicide decorum. Leaving L.A. was premature. I could have survived a heart-attack. But, hated being so disturbed and removed from my place of poise. Never let people get under your skin.
I’ve begun a thousand thousand proud projects and perhaps a thousand prideless projects but so few see completion and celebrations. Better to do much having done little than having done much by doing little. Is that so? Just do it. More. Victory. Conquer.
In 2011, I quit my high paying, executive position for a life more extraordinary. I remember giving my two-week notice. The manager said she was afraid for me. It felt like that was the last cold rub of the shackles that sought to keep my mind small and contracted.
In some ways, staying in the chain-gang makes life easier. But, only when the idea of life is lowered to the slave gangs meager way of being. But, freedom… freedom is hard, and sometimes feels dumb… and other times reaks of insane genius. One thing is for sure. It’s a little easier to breathe. Maybe I just lowered my standard of what a non-9-5 life looks like.
Just cause I’m not 9-5 doesn’t mean I aint workin’. Shit. I’ve always been working since I started working. I first began real work when I was a youngling. Inquiring into the crankings of the world.. demanding satisfactory answers for the clockworks around here. Most people were satisfied with turn of phrase type intelligence while I couldn’t settle for pedantic glances.
So I applied imagination. Not just fantasy for lust and reverie.. but for lust of connection, understanding and knowing. That was and continues to be my first occupation. How many years I wasted and retarded my exemplary growth I cannot count nor would I waste time with such a fruitless qualitative endeavor. Instead I should ask… where will I allow this great work to take me today.. tomorrow.. yesterday..?
Circling and around it goes. The spiral spins and the straight line grows.
So I told that slave making factory adios. It’s true.. a genius in the engineering field heads the product design but, like many of us awkward folk who are as big as our vision.. we tend to eclipse the living, bleeding reality of other actors in the play. It is hardly with intention towards the person offended.. but rather it is an affliction of the passion that fuels the irascible wrecks. Some of us are more fragile in the arms of the consensus than others but none-the-less… we don’t all that well relate to others as well as to our fancies.
And so this is partially why I gave up that path. The 9-5. So keeping of one’s orders. So reductive of one’s faculties. Making a man’s sleep a steep recess from the horrid jump skipping that the next day inevitably brings.
But.. high-performance is my blood. I bleed outstanding achievements. Whatever strange angel captains my heart with peculiar rhythm drumming thrills as off-beat as my humor and sense of ha-ha.
But, I dance and will dance ever the faster and with more abandon as the clock ticks life away. Surely… all my success that would have met me early were I a strangely (less) disciplined lad of the world.. is instead raining upon me, now with increasing favor until the day that I die and then it shall be a tidal wave. I will not care so much then as I do now for the good way and blessing that takes me up to every rounding corner of progress, joy, strength and evolution … which is my present gift.
Taking the bold way is the fine way to buy the stairway to heaven. So bold and ever bolder. Who are you to stop you like a god who’d make a boulder so heavy that he himself could not move it.. for that seems the very inspiration of the joke to begin with.. god making stuff. Stuff making god able and unable… conditions… Time fucking space. Space birthing time. Parthenogenesis. Or however the virgin births herself. AHA! my star is near.. my star is upon me.. more wines.. more catalyst.. more fire from heaven up my spine and divine rain dancing of immaculate pleasures treasures divine and dove, crow and dove, leapt and ride chase above, for follow and lead and lead and gold, and loose and hold heavens treasure unfold, on earth we’re told to be, love and grow old, but to have will and give love is the law of the sun… so burn once, burn thrice just rise to the son to the truth that is won by the one of the one.
I’m glad I can spend my time being creative and challenged, excited and underwhelmed… on my own time and not shuffled into the mix of a non-creative stumping ground for profit and fakery. Boom. Blossom. Assume. Consume. Gimme room. Broom. Mickey Mouse. Ala Kazam.. Alla kazoo, I still love the lakers, the seasers, and the rivers, and the roots.
Happy to edutain or too, invoke wonder I wonder if you
Engage with my brain, or undo all that’s undue for clues to come through/