January 19, 2002    Suicide

GREETINGS AND SALUTATIONS from Arnold's Way!

Catalytic catastrophes shatter the hull of the morning air
Something destroys the child's happy smile
A day of no hope.  A day of midnight gloom
 A day when all could be erased
 Just by saying I care


It was late Sunday night when the topic had to be chosen, books had to be studied, and answers had to be given.  I was waiting for the magical moment when the white lights that glimmer pale shades and the yellow orange blossoms would become transformed into vital force, which would surge its gathering force upon my shoulder and give me this week's topic.  And so it happened.  The next sentence is not verbose like before but more solemn.  My wife received a telephone call about one of her co-workers who committed suicide.  It is certainly not a pleasant subject, especially when one person I knew directly.  The other two cases, although still tragic, were friends of friends.

Where do I start?  It's one of those subjects that you need time to research.  You have to research the causes, the whys of what would provoke someone to take their own life.

I sit in silence.  I listen to the water fall.  I listen to the computer humming.  I am trying to grab hold of any thought that would help me address this issue.

I skimmed approximately 40 books, and only one mentioned the word.  It's like one of those things where truth stands out like a reality of black vultures and everyone just shies away.  In Alternative Medicine Presented by Burton Goldberg there are words written on the subject.  "Serious depression, if not treated can lead to suicidal thoughts."  My first question is what does treatment look like?  Does it mean seeing somebody and talking about one's problems or what they ate for breakfast?  Is there a difference?  According to Ralph C. Cinque, D.C. in Mental Health, "The emotionally sick do not require treatment any more than do the physically." Precisely my opinion.

If as an individual we wanted to talk about anger, it's there.  If we wanted to talk about childhood inadequacies, they are there.  Whatever subject we wanted to mention, there can be frequent anger, anxiety, depression, and maybe eventually suicide.  By the way, it's the eighth leading cause of death in this country.

On such a topic we begin our quest.  According to those separate studies involving suicide and high voltage lines, here were strong correlations between depression and suicide.  Just writing about this topic I get the chills.  It's a topic to which I have difficulty relating as a raw foodist. The very nature of my existence deals with excellence.  Excellence begins from the time I get up to when I begin exercising to drinking fresh squeezed OJ.  The day follows along those lines of excellence, excellence, and more excellence.  It involves simply being in love with every facet of what I do. I find value and substance from the simplest task.  For example, it's like speaking on the phone and getting totally enamored by the idea of pushing 10 numbers, listening for that someone to answer the phone that I know who is not minutes away but hours away, and talking.  I get so amazed.

But what is today wasn't always like today, for those who commit suicide feel hopeless.  They are at the bottom rung of life with no place to go.  My mind starts to drift to almost 10 years ago when I was on the verge of death at the young age of 45.  I thought I had a heart attack.  As a victim with no sense of empowerment I allowed the medical community to determine my sickness, my treatment, my choices regarding what to do and what not to do.

These words are not about the supposed heart attack but what led up to it. What were the causes?  Although I never hit that depressive state I got pretty close.  At the time I always focused on myself and what wasn't working with my life.  It was very easy to do.  I was like a sponge of self-pity with tears to shed and joy hidden in square blocks that no one was allowed to touch.  Essentially, my sorrows were many.  They included my job, my marriage, my kids, and my co-workers.  The list was endless.  To add further insult to my troubling disposition, I wrote almost 220 pages in 30 days.  Needless to say, by the 30th day I almost wrote myself into oblivion. My assumed trouble overpowered me into seeking help.  My heart literally became loaded with steel magnums in which I no longer could carry the load.

I was in the hospital lying in bed for three days in intensive care thinking not how I got there but what I had to do to get out.  Having a heavy heart is not a good thing.  I promised myself never again.  My troubles are thought processes that can be whisked away in deep breaths.  Just by saying what I can do can create change.  I quite my job, renewed by vows, and sought fun instead of seriousness.  I stopped listening to everyone who thought that they knew and began listening to what I knew.  Smiles work. Friendship works.  I stopped feeling sorry for myself.  My bigger moment came when I threw my book out.  That very booked contained all of my negative energy.

I read about suicide and the high voltage line.  I think about my experience and I think of those that took their lives.  Two of them were women both approximately 45 years of age.  Neither was Caucasian.  Both were single, overweight, professionals, and felt that there was no choice.  The one woman I knew used a handgun to kill herself.  There is no turning back once that trigger is pulled.  Our life forces are shattered and anything that was once living dies.  It's that simple.

I met this woman many years ago when she was in her teens.  She was bright, beautiful, and anxiously awaiting the work that awaited her.  I knew her when she was thin with a bight smile, full of questions, and optimistically happy.  Where did she go wrong?  Did she in her wildest imagination ever think she would put a bullet into her head and end her life?  I think back to our chance meetings, which numbered no more than half a dozen times in 30 years.  Each time I saw her I noticed a difference.  It wasn't much, but there was a difference.  Her happy self was no longer her happy self.  She went to school.  That seemed the right thing to do.  Whether that is your calling it makes no difference.  We are creatures of predestined faith.  To find a job, find a mate, get married, have kids, and then retire -- that is what life offers.  As she changed, I too also changed.  She began moving up the corporate world not really looking for a mate, for that could have interfered with her corporate mobility.  We hold that sentence in brief seclusion.  Is the very essence of a woman's soul designed to be in that environment?  I become deep in thought for the wisdom of our souls demand excellence.  The killing of one's self stops that ongoing process.

These three women who all killed themselves were all in different stages of their lives.  That really doesn't matter, though, because it still happened.  I personally can only look at this from a position of self-love not self-destruct.  Is self-love a natural phenomenon?  Do we come into a world of fire and brimstone or peace and harmony?  Is the human embryo born into mistrust and confusion or love and magical mystery that allow the union of a sperm and an egg to be reproduced 75 trillion times without one mistake?  Is there an error in this calculation?  Does the average human heart beat 100,000 times a day and 2.5 billion times in the average lifetime?  These things happen for joy, for wisdom, for the relentless pursuit of happiness.  There is no break ever. Not for coffee, not for breakups, not for job loss.  We have an obligation to relish our innate magic of being.  We see color of many shades not in tens but millions.  These facts are not made up stories.  They are realities.  Anyone who takes their life has to deny the whole conception of life and what their being meant if not for themselves then to someone out there whose lives they touched however small.  We are part of that big microorganism that synergistically ties everyone.  We scan every part of our body.  The brain weighs less than 3 pounds.  In one hand it seems just a glob, but within each and every one of us what it does is mind-boggling.  It controls every cell, all 75 trillion cells, and each of their 20,000 life units with such finite precision.  Those who commit suicide end this power. There is no second chance to bask in the glory of the unbelievable.  The seeing, the beating, the thinking. The list goes on.  There is learning, which takes sound vibrations and transforms them to words.  I am in total awe and disbelief.  I watch my grandson's vocabulary expand.  Where does his learning come from?  How is the joining of sperm and egg able to create this miracle?

What depths of depression had to be reached to block the glory of being?  Do we reverberate the words of Roman philosopher Seneca, "Men do not die, they kill themselves."  I close my eyes and review the life of this woman who I will call Natasha.  When she was young as the years passed her body changed from svelte to slightly overweight to more overweight with puffy cheeks. What does all this mean?  Did I watch in slow motion the disintegration of a wondrous being whose choices over the years lead her to the depths of despair?  Would I in any way have been able to make a difference?  If I had just shared a word, let my guard down, and had been vulnerable, would I have been able to help?  I search frantically for every word, any word that would bring this newsletter into order and define understanding.  I repeat the words of Ralph C. Cinque on the treatment of mental despair.  "Normal living.  Normal activity."

I continue my quest for excellence to use my brainpower in clarity not sluggishness.  Day in and day out I watch what I eat.  I hunger for the vitality of fruit, the strength of vegetables, the perseverance of nuts and seeds.  I hunger for more life from the simplest of tasks to the more noble form of writing thoughts and theories on suicide.

My diet is clean.  Does that make me a better person?  Absolutely not.  Does that make me love myself more?  Absolutely, yes!  I do not take in the poisons of contamination, the dyes, the preservatives, the chemicals, the heated fats that can't be used by your body until the temperature reaches 300 degrees.  Over the years I have pretty much remained the same weight of 145 pounds.  I don't have the puffy cheek look, which is an indication of too much sugar, too much fat, just plain too much.  My hair is still all black with maybe a few grays.  My skin is silky smooth.  Do I brag?  Do I compare?  Do I just ask what it takes for someone to kill oneself?  What does it take to love yourself?  I share.  I let my guard down.  I become vulnerable for what criticism I may receive.  So be it.

We all have a choice.  I choose perfection.  My body demands it.  My love of life becomes an institution for every day living.  It's the day in day out that makes the difference.  I exercise daily without fail, without doubt. It represents a necessity of constant rejuvenation.  Herbert M. Shelton stated, "[Exercise] is also to clear the brain of the venous congestion and provide for better nutrition to the brain."

These are not accidental lines of devious aberration.  These are clear insights from me personally about why thoughts of suicide are like a far away balloon that has no home.  These are my words of hope for all those who ever thought, for all those who want to believe, for all those who just don' t know.  Suicide is a choice for total self-destruct.  To live requires ardent pursuit of constant rejuvenation; feeding of the body eloquently with care and consideration; the best of what the world has to offer: the fruit of the vine, the vegetable of humble beginnings, and the nuts of the tree.

We as a people strive for continual continuum.  A brain presence needs perfect food that will strive for liveliness not die in squalor.  Living foods, raw foods are the only possibilities that can create this flow of purity.  We jump, we run, we become free of congestion by feeding ourselves the life forces of Mother Nature. 

I walk with my head high.  I lighten the load of my heart.  I close my eyes and reflect on the fear, dread, and reverberation of what happens when three young woman take their lives.

I thank you for your time.
  Arnold

References:

Mental Health by Ralph C. Cinque, D.C.
Exercise for the Mental Worker by Dr. Herbert M. Shelton
A Handbook for Vibrant Living by Loren Lockman
World Medicine by Tom Monte
Alternative Medicine Presented by Burton Goldberg
Nutrition and Athletic Performance by Douglas Graham, D.C.
The Raw Life by Paul Nison
Heart Attack in Newsletter

Stay tuned for articles on meningitis and breast cancer and leukemia

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