Episode 1: Feb. 14, 2017 »
First and foremost, ARO»Rocks is about living well, living comfortably and enjoying life through music and related entertainment. Music has kept me alive: I survived a “rough patch” during which serious suicidal tendencies and contemplations were a daily uphill battle.
It was a long patch: it lasted the better part of 45 years. Throughout that time, a line from Van Morrison’s And The Healing Has Begun kept beckoning me, like a plaintive cry for help heard ever so faintly through the blizzard of self-inflicted torment that was my daily mind set: I can’t stand myself. Van cast it off like an afterthought, but to me it was my whole life summed up in a single phrase.
Why I did not succumb to those years of suicidal obsession is a matter that is only beginning to be revealed to me by The Man Upstairs. He came down and took charge recently, first in hazy-headed hallucinations brought on by a prolonged (four-year) dope-smoking binge I convinced myself was treatment for my multiple mood disorders — against my doctor’s sternest advice. Then, on frequent occasions over the course of the last two months.
Exactly two months as of this writing (Valentine’s Day, 2017). I threw out the pipes, vials, oil burners and shatter nails on December 14th. Not literally until a few weeks later, but certainly in essence as I look back on it all with the benefit of hindsight. I was being guided toward a state of mind I have never in all my born days experienced before, where I am rarely at a loss for words, good thoughts or clear motivation.
I am finally, at 66, morphing into the kind of person I always wanted to be but could only fantasize about earlier in life. Truths are being revealed in uncanny and remarkable ways. I feel good about myself and my life. It feels like I have finally forgiven myself, an absolute impossibility in my previous state of mind and soul.
I blamed a lot of people, most especially my father, for my aimless, misspent existence, until I got into my 40s and gleaned enough objectivity to realize that most of my misery was self-inflicted. I was bent on self-destruction, and spent most of my life tearing myself down, cell by cell. I didn’t stand a chance because I was psychologically incapable of giving myself a break.
This is no way for anyone to have to live. No one deserves this level of pain, suffering, vilification, mortification and self-denial. NOBODY! And nobody can understand the full horror of what it feels like unless they, too, have lived it.
Which brings me to the second purpose of this thing called arorocks.com, which has a sister site called arocares.com. I purchased both domains at the same time because I had an innate awareness of where I was going with all this, even though I could not have described it with any lucidity until roughly a week ago. At least 50¢ out of every dollar this business generates is going to charities that benefit young people primarily.
For years I was convinced that youth today have a much easier time growing up than we did back in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s. This is the information age: You can find the answers to anything that ails you online, at the speed of however fast you type and catch on to the info you retrieve.
I was recently proven wrong in this assumption by a news report on CBC’s The National. I’m going to break this narrative here, because I want to retrieve the CBC National piece I’m referring to. I taped it and have no idea how to move something from my Shaw Cable PVR to a video I can post here. But I’ll figure it out.
Meantime, kick back and enjoy the site. There are sights and sounds galore to soothe the savage breast. — Yes, it IS breast, not beast as most people misquote it. (I looked it up, okay?) Hope you have lots of time to waste right now. There is much stuff here.
--ARO By Donald
(There’s a logo I created four long years ago. I’ll slot it in here as soon as I find it, okay?)
Why no last name — who do I think I am, Madonna? Or Keith? (Remember Hey, 98.6 it’s good to have you back again…? 1967, I think. I have it filed away. I’ll feature it here as soon as I find it. So many files, so little time. Anyway, that was Keith, no last name: hmm, maybe that's why he was a 1HW, as I call it — for One Hit Wonder. Anyway, in some things, last names are irrelevant, okay?