Gut Health & the Sacred Temple

The state of play inside your gut is more important than what’s going on in your head

If you want to ruin a man you don’t aim for his brain, you aim for his stomach

We are overrun by the bacteria/parasites in our gut. The health profile of your psychology starts and ends with your gut.

Your emotional state, the strength of your purpose? These worlds are being piped up & channeled through the bacterial colonies in your stomach & transmitted to your head

If your gut is fucked up, so are you.

Anxiety as a whole is an abberation. It only exists in a society where people’s gut linings are perforated by chemicals, unnatural foods, and formula feed during infancy.

That doomed feeling of being out of control and crawling out of your skin is a sign that the gut-brain axis is ruptured.

Healthy men don’t respond to immense pressure with anxiousness and skittishness. Pressure is a thrill, a variety of exhilaration for men with a sealed stomach

My own battle with gut health has been arduous and extreme.

My experience with it now is crystal clear.

In my teen years I dealt with daily tsunamis of debilitating anxiety, depression, crawling out of my skin, purposelessness, malingering.

Looking back it’s no coincidence. I grew up with parents who were robbed of common sense by the food pyramid.

Cereal & conventional milk (that ivory white color = devoid of nutrition from pasteurization.). Nutritious milk is beige.

Frozen & fried foods for every meal, zero red meat. Eggs were bastardized for their cholesterol content.

I recall a very early resistant response to all this bullshit. Intuitively as a child I never believed eggs were bad. And when warned to go easy on the burgers at restaurants, I knew that was bullshit too.

It’s inexplicable but I felt it in my heart. A large part of me was still connected and grounded to the essence of nature. Remnants of a fighting spirit.

But innocence loses to propaganda every time.

As men part out of our duty is losing our innocence as quickly as possible. In this way we can begin to detect the lies we’ve been taught

My parents had no idea what to do with my listless, dilapidated state. Nothing inspired me, just opening the door in the morning to walk outside felt like being contorted inside a category 5 hurricane.

This study, this embrace was entirely my own to grapple with. My folks were ushering me down the plank to SSRI’s. I couldn’t walk it.

For whatever reason, I decided to go merciless. Rip up every nook and cranny in the world in front of me to figure this shit out on my own. At 17 years old.

I figured I was so pent up with aggression and emotion that I could at least go down biting the throat. Unearthing every stone to crack this code.

You can’t pull Excalicbur from the stone if you’re zombified. Emotion means pulse.

The comeback is one of outrageous probability & good fortune. I always say, the angles, the outs, the inches we need to succeed are all around us.

We’re sitting on top of our solutions. Only when we get out of our own way do they become uncovered

My grandfather was a juggernaut of cognition deep into his nineties. Had One of the most extensive personal libraries I’ve ever witnessed

One arbitrary day I rummaged through his books, hundreds or more. I chanced upon a book called Fat of the Land by Vihjalmur Stefansson written in 1956.

The book highlights the expeditions of early fanatics, pioneers, and frontiersman who were weakened & catatonic during long droughts of fresh meat provisions.

These men were immersed in a maelstrom of health maladies. & they would resurrect almost to full strength and capability when they would find animals to eat.

Reinvigorated by their stories I set alight to the old guard & got a shitty job just so I could torch every paycheck on the most wholesome food available.

This was in a time where virtually no one knew what the fuck the carnivore diet was. Eating tons of fatty red meat was still anathema.

I’d roll into Whole Foods daily to get my steak cooked. The morbidly obese butchers would look at me cockeyed when I’d order my steak and ask them to cook the fat trimmings they had stored in the back along with it.

Was warned I’d have a heart attack by 30, that I’d be obscenely overweight and that my body composition would be amoeba-like long term.

Ironic, I know.

I remained steadfast in my conviction despite the admonishments raining down on me from every direction.

Within a week of removing all processed/frozen foods, and getting 100% of my calories from grass finished fatty meat I discovered who I was again.

The dark clouds departed, the brain fog distintegrated. Depression scorched away.

I became addicted to this newfangled sense of control. Finally felt like I had my grip back on the wheel of life.

I made it through years of mockery from family, friends, servicemen, clerks, waiters, managers, Internet forums. Not a single soul could believe that my diet wouldn’t kill me in a short span of time.

My experience proved very different. I’m thoroughly convinced my gut began to seal rather quickly and was no longer leaking information inputs that my brain needed to function optimally.

My thoughts became crystal fucking clear. Moves I knew I needed to make would hit me like bolts from the blue.

The bee in my bonnet was vanquished.

It’s very hard not to get “cute” on strict diets/lifestyles like this. After years of smoldering progress and upward trajectory I was introduced to coffee by a friend of mine.

The compulsion to fix shit that ain’t broken is how you end up with people who look like geniuses or troglodytes.

Coffee is in lockstep with my soul. It’s the most congruent beverage on the face of earth for my style of dealing with obstacles. Brute force.

As you seize control of your life and begin to blast through breakthrough after breakthrough, it becomes challenging to figure out what’s happening when shit goes wrong with you physiologically. Too many variables.

The self experimenters press on.

Coffee kind of snuck it’s way in to an already very aggressive lifestyle I was administering. I was in my early 20’s now. Boxing overseas, playing high stakes poker, lifting big boy weights.

High octane, steady flow of balls to the wall action 24/7.

Started having frequent streams of horrific night terrors that would cause me to wake up springing to my feet in a fighting stance.

Then nightly excruciating wars with back breaking nausea. Every dawn for years I’d be overcome with rolling waves of sickness to the point I’d have to crumple to the floor and start retching my guts out. Once a month I’d puke so hard my abdomen would dislocate. I’d have to manually push one of my lower chambers back in place to start breathing again.

It would begin with an intense and swift disconnection from mind and body. A sense of impending doom would swamp me and I couldn’t rationalize anything. These fits would instantly drop my IQ 70 points.

I chalked it up to lifestyle. I was enduring shit on the daily that would snap most men in half. 99% swings in net worth while pushing the brink of the upper limits of my genetic potential Olympic lifting. Descending on deals and phone calls like a Rottweiler to earn my daily bread.

I was up to 4-5 cups of coffee a day at this point. Not because I needed the energy but because I loved the internal battle.

Drinking coffee would rattle me to my core. I’d go hours with heightened awareness but every second I’d have to fight the feeling of crawling out of my skin. I’d have to talk down my nerves with intense negotiation.

My workouts were leaving me completely broken. After some of my hardest ones I’d throw up, and my body would shake for hours.

But I continued to make “progress” in every measurable area of life. My numbers on the bar were even still increasing.

I knew I couldn’t be plagued with a serious disease or cancer because my strength continued to increase. Strength and health cannot be divorced.

But I was living in stern denial of the damage coffee was causing me. I blamed it on other factors.

Coffee is fucking demonic. It’s a direct experience with the Djiin. It made me confront myself. I couldn’t Accept that it was throwing me off balance to an unrecoverable plane.

It’s molten lava for the belly. The acid corrodes your gut lining like a worm in a grave.

The nightly fits got so bad that they would bring me to my knees in a crumpled ball and all I could do is pray for it to be over. I would rather have taken a boot stomp to the head than endure those moments ever again.

If I was lucky enough to vomit my strength and faculties would instantly be re-endowed. My intelligence would spark back up like dynamite.

It’s now easy to trace the thread back into the maze.

If you suffer from any form of anxiety, depression, extreme despair, easy discouragement, it is VERY likely your gut is under attack and severely compromised.

Psychology is downstream from physiology

Burping after meals, a slight scratchy throat, small cough after meals, stomach distension, bloating are symptoms of ACID REFLUX

Any form of nausea after eating, no matter how slight is also a huge indicator.

Since slashing coffee for the past 4 months, my night terrors are gone. Not a single one.

Not a single instance of nausea or wretching.

You have to understand the impact of what you digest and how it affects your psychology and world view.

Eating cookies, drinking coke-that’s all way beyond just oral entertainment. You are massacreing the sacred temple that is your gut-brain-soul multiplex.

99.9% of neuroses is diet related. Introduce a steady supply of unnatural materials to the host of your organism and your body will betray you.

A weakened gut is a weakened mind. There ain’t no two ways about it.

I don’t have all the answers, and I’m still working on finding ways to maximize the power output of my gut.

A tablespoon of gelatin after every meal is also giving me tremendous gut relief. It helps close the esophageal sphincter so acid doesn’t burst back up in your throat like a geyser.

Next time you want a “cheat” day, just understand that you are intentionally occluding the connection you have with yourself. It’s that serious.

The place to begin for your psychic renaissance is a complete elimination diet. Start with fatty red meat, salt, water only for a minimum and 30 days and then you can slowly start adding back in carbs like potatoes and white rice.

The starches in potatoes feed SIBO (small intestinal bacterial overgrowth) which is the process by which bacteria that doesn’t belong in your small intestine infiltrates it through microtears in your gut lining.

Most people are unwittingly walking around with SIBO, feeding the flames by Adding sugar and starches.

Explains much of the boom in mental health crises all over the planet.

People are quite literally hijacked by the bacteria/parasites growing in their gut & sending flawed information to their brains.

So next time you decide to binge on sugar just remember you’re flicking on a lighter. But that lighter can soon become a full blown raging forest fire.