Chapter 9: The Volcano Alchemist: Asao Shimanishi and the Mineral Code of Life

Using fire, stone, and sulfur, he worked for 20 years trying to coax the Earth to reveal a living liquid mineral complex—one that could purify water, restore soil, and resurrect vitality.

For the mineral minions reading my book, “From Volcanoes to Vitality,” that I am publishing in serial form, today is Chapter 9.

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I need to begin this chapter differently than anything I’ve ever written.

If you have followed my work—if you’ve trusted my judgment through these last years—then I’m asking, just this once, for your full attention. No casual reading. No skimming between notifications. I am not dramatizing, and this is not a ploy. Further, I will not do this again. What you’re about to read is, in my honest belief, the most important chapter I have ever written, and possibly the most important thing I will ever write.

Know that I have written hundreds of Substacks before (333 to be exact), and I have never opened any of them like this. I would not risk your trust lightly. All I’m asking for is a few extra minutes of undivided attention—because what follows matters to you, and if you’ll allow me a bit of grandiosity, to the Earth itself. Truly.

So wherever you are—coffee in hand, morning routine unfolding—I ask you to pause with me. There is something here worth your focus.

There are chapters in a life that you don’t plan, and this is one of mine. Not only do I feel today’s chapter is the most significant of this book, but I have come to believe it is the pinnacle of my life’s work.

If I’m being honest, I never meant to write this book. I wasn’t looking for a new crusade, obsession, or scientific frontier (I’ve had enough of those these past five years). I certainly wasn’t trying to become a mineral historian, geochemist, or water purist. Yet something—curiosity, destiny, call it what you like—left me with no real choice. I followed a trail I didn’t lay, and although I didn’t know it at the start, this chapter is where the book began.

If that sounds dramatic, I apologize. I’m not claiming divine inspiration or prophetic purpose—although, in time, I may look back and realize something larger was moving through this work. I am just an earnest physician with a private practice full of the most complex patients on Earth (post–Covid-19 vaccine injured). Since devoting my career to helping them, I’ve been forced to go down innumerable rabbit holes in pursuit of treatments that could ease their suffering.

That is why my practice partner, Scott Marsland, came into my life when and how he did. An astute clinician with a brilliant mind and vaccine-injured himself, he was of the same spirit and goals, and I genuinely believe that ethos has infused our Leading Edge Clinic with the drive and near-excellence it achieves (note I said near).

Over the three and a half years we’ve been in practice together (note I said practice), Scott and I have discovered and integrated innumerable treatment approaches that have mitigated immense suffering. More importantly, that ethos attracted—and retained—some of the best nursing staff in history: empathetic almost to a fault, morally upright, spiritually grounded escapees from the medical system that turned totalitarian during COVID.

If that sounds like marketing, it’s not. It’s me letting my thoughts spill onto the page, because oddly, that part of my life links to this chapter. Now, back to the story.

In my searching journey, I suddenly stumbled onto a mystery. And, as discussed in the Preface, the one trait I will humbly—and reluctantly—admit sets me apart is the ability to recognize people and ideas that are unique, innovative, and impactful. With Themarox and Shimanishi, that vision clicked with a force I had never experienced before. I saw what was hidden in plain sight, and I could not unsee it. Something—someone—wanted this story told.

That “someone” was not me. It was a quiet, almost invisible Japanese scientist named Asao Shimanishi.

To be clear: Shimanishi was not famous, not celebrated, not decorated, and he didn’t want any of the above (nor did I). I feel that my pre-COVID career was similar to his: while I labored endlessly in ICUs, he toiled in labs, mines, and factories. One difference is that he avoided cameras, while I agreed to them—not for exposure, but out of duty. In a global emergency, I felt I had a responsibility as a doctor and professor to share knowledge that could help. I tired of it quickly, but I never said no. Let’s move on—this is not about me.

Despite his achievements, Shimanishi never chased recognition. He did the opposite—he hid from it. While other mineral advocates spent their lives promoting themselves, Shimanishi insisted the miracle was not in him but in the minerals themselves—and in the God who placed them here.

In one of the only and (last) public speeches he ever gave, at the World Water Conference in XXXX, he told an international audience that his mineral complex was “a gift from the Creator” and that he was “working with the angels.” You can imagine how well that went over. That single sentence may explain why so few in academic circles ever took him seriously afterward. His work slipped underground—literally and figuratively.

And yet, his discovery—the world’s first liquid extract of volcanic black mica, dense with bioactive ionic sulfates—quietly began healing soil, water, crops, and ecosystems around the world. Industrial scientists knew it worked. Farmers saw it work. Water-treatment engineers documented it working. But, to date, Medicine has never heard his name.

Which brings us, improbably, to me.

I don’t claim to be a genius or the author of this discovery. I didn’t create it. Like all the other therapies I have advocated throughout my career, it came to me —and then, through me. I feel less like an inventor and more like a conduit—somewhere far downstream of whatever current first carried Shimanishi. Why it flowed to me, and why now, I cannot say. But my role is simple:

I am here to bring Shimanishi out of obscurity and into daylight.

After these months that I have been buried in patents, translated interviews, unpublished lab notes, industrial case studies, agricultural trials, aqueous chemistry reports, and experiments so strange they felt like folklore—I became sure of one thing: his discovery is beyond a modest one. It is historic.

So yes, I hope this chapter is read widely. And if it sounds like I’ve lost it, I’m okay with that. I don’t expect everyone to see what I see. But of everything I have ever written—or will ever write—I believe this work will matter most. Not because I wrote it, but because it comes from the work Shimanish did that the world never saw.

So before we go any further, let me say this plainly:

Despite a century of research into mineral depletion and trace-element physiology, no major scientist, researcher, or author has ever written about Asao Shimanishi’s discovery.

Come with me as we explore his life and work.

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Asao Shimanishi

Early Life and Training

Asao Shimanishi was born in Wakayama Prefecture on September 17, 1926. He studied under challenging circumstances during the turbulent pre-war and wartime years, but persevered due to his strong interest in academics. He graduated from the former Wakayama Technical School in 1944, where he learned the fundamentals of technology.

After the war, he went on to the Osaka Institute of Technology, where he deepened his knowledge of chemistry and industrial mining, laying the groundwork for his future career. After graduating in 1949, he began his career in the mining and chemical industries by joining Nippon Tailings Industries (now Sumitomo Metal Mining Co., Ltd.). There, he learned basic mining techniques and gradually deepened his expertise through practical experience.

In 1952, Senju Mining, an unlimited partnership, was established in the Masago mining area of Nakagoto Island, Nagasaki, where he began to develop his own independent business in the mining sector. From that time on, he developed a deep interest in effectively utilizing mineral resources.

The “Tree on the Rock” Moment

One day in his 30s, Shimanishi was meditating on a beach when he opened his eyes and noticed a tree growing out of a remote rock in the middle of the sea—thriving with no visible soil.