15 January 2012

AN INSPIRATION—ON ANY DAY

“Our scientific power has outrun our spiritual power. We have guided missiles and misguided men.”  — Martin Luther King, Jr.

TO THOSE OF YOU WHO KNOW MY WORK, it’s common knowledge that I admire Martin Luther King, Jr. immensely. He was front-and-center in my documentary on race relations called THE WAR WITHIN and was the driving force behind my comparative analysis of the Civil Rights movement and the Health Freedom movement in my 1993 film LET TRUTH BE THE BIAS, which was narrated by James Earl Jones. In 2005 he was featured again in my documentary WE BECOME SILENT, a film about "Free Trade," multinational corporations, and something called "Codex Alimentarius." That film, produced in mere months, was narrated by the internationally revered actress, Dame Judi Dench.

As it happens so often with artists, the title for WE BECOME SILENT came as an inspiration in the middle of the night. It was 3:00 a.m., I believe, and I was in the midst of 17-20 hour days. I was determined to produce an honest film about the dangers of Codex and the deleterious effects of “free trade.” As I began to doze deeper into my well-earned slumber, I heard Dr. King’s voice say, “Our lives begin to end the moment we become silent about things that matter.” 

Spaced out and disoriented, I sat straight up in bed. The words I heard the strongest were "we become silent," and a few hours later, well, after at least one cup of coffee, I discerned that these three words would make a great title for the film. After all, they had been whispered to me in the middle of the night by the most powerful speaker in American history, and "we become silent" seamlessly correlated to the scheming of governments, big business, bureaucrats and other dirty dealers who incessantly try to assert their will over the rest of us. Their collective goal, of course, is to eliminate medical freedom of choice and to keep the status quo in tact. Then — as now — they want us to simply shut up. 


With the FDA ‘walking point,’ they have tried mightily to achieve their monopolistic goals through regulations, by banning health books from health food stores, through ridiculous undercover sting operations, the falsification of scientific research, and worst of all, through guns-draw raids at holistic clinics and even health food stores. 


This is not America.

So once again — in the middle of the night — Dr. King played a pivotal role in my professional and personal life. His moral clarity helped align my values and put the struggle for medical freedom of choice into perspective. Oh, and by the way, since people love the title WE BECOME SILENT, it is only fitting to give credit where credit is due.


I am reminded of something that occurred during a screening of LET TRUTH BE THE BIAS in 1994. There’s a scene in the documentary where hordes of armed policemen—with batons at the ready and with the strength of a football team pushing a blocking ‘sled’ — thrust dozens of African Americans backwards. Elderly men, women and children are forced to the ground—and are trampled in the ensuing melee. While this scene was playing out, I heard someone comment rather loudly, “Hey, this guy must be a liberal” — as if showing the struggle for basic human rights was somehow a liberal issue.

Today, we should all humbly acknowledge that there is much more work to do. 

As a humanistic writer, I have often been compelled to take the path less traveled — to follow my innate sense of right and wrong. As one who vividly recalls the assassination of Dr. King in 1968, I can attest that many of the ideals he put forth during his short time on this planet are indelibly branded into my heart and soul. 

We should all honor Dr. King for blazing a peaceful trail to positive change. We can learn from not only his courage in challenging injustices, but from his unyielding vision of fairness and equality. “Life's most persistent and urgent question,” said Dr. King, “is, 'What are you doing for others?'”

Amen, Reverend Dr. King. Amen. 


Your words are an inspiration — on any day.

Labels: , , , , ,

04 July 2011

REBORN ON THE 4th OF JULY

MY BROTHER CHRIS WAS A ROYAL PAIN when I was growing up. He and his friends taunted me incessantly when I was little, and as the next sibling above me in the Miller food chain, he made sure I knew that he was the boss. 

I could go on and on about the childhood traumas: he pushed me in a pile of dog manure; he broke a neighbor’s window with a baseball — and then blamed me; and once, he even poked me in the eye with a stick. When my Mom brought me home from the hospital, Chris tried to tell me how cool I looked with a patch over my eye, to avoid getting in any further trouble.

“You look like a PIRATE,” he exclaimed with all of the thespian might he could muster.

“The patch is WHITE,” I replied angrily. “Have you ever seen a pirate with a WHITE eye patch?” 

He just smiled.

Chris knew that his bullying had to end soon, but he persisted for as long as he could. He had an eerie knack for stopping his evil acts just before being caught-in-the-act by mom. By the time she walked around the corner, his little devil-face would magically transform — and his cherubic demeanor would miraculously re-appear.

God, I hated that.

By the time I was 13, however, I was growing — rapidly. I had developed a far more athletic build than Chris, and suddenly, we were the same size. 

The era of being the taunted sibling had come to a close.

CHRIS’ LAST ACT OF CHICANERY came on July 4, 1969 when he stole my brand new outfit: a pair of black bell-bottom pants and a new striped pullover shirt. As I prepared to leave for the Independence Day fireworks at Lakewood Park outside of Cleveland, I noticed that my sweet new clothes were missing. 

Chris had somehow slipped into my clothes, slipped out of the door and was long gone.

I’m sure I cursed at him under my breath — and I know for certain that I created quite a stir with my Mom about the injustice of it all — but the bottom line was that I would have to leave for the fireworks without my spiffy new outfit. So I stopped by a friend’s house and we began our walk to Lakewood Park a few miles away.

TEENAGED ANGST AND ALL, my friend Robin and I were looking forward to the fireworks. Lakewood had developed into a huge inner-ring suburb and was full of kids — and the 4th of July fireworks were always spectacular. It had been a picturesque day and we were really looking forward to the evening.

When we were about five minutes from Lakewood Park, the sky turned from beautiful sunshine to jet-black — in less than two minutes’ time. Without notice, Robin and I were suddenly caught in the grip of the most furious storm either of us had ever experienced. Make no mistake, we were scared to death. Trees were snapping all around us. Huge tree limbs were being flung with unfathomable force. So much rain drenched us that we were shivering, and the temperature felt like it had dropped by twenty degrees in just a few minutes time.

And then there were the power lines. . .live electrical power lines that buzzed and danced in the flooded streets. 

It was the storm that changed everything.

It took about an hour to get home, as Robin and I made our way through a jungle of downed trees and flooded roads in the darkness. Lakewood — and indeed all of Cleveland was without electrical power. We saw dozens of cars smashed by trees, windows blown out of businesses and even a few people injured by flying debris. 

When I finally walked in the door, my Mom and Dad gave me the look of joy and relief that only a parent can truly understand. The living room of our humble home was lit by flickering candles, but it was easy to see how grateful my parents were to see me. The transistor radio was on — and was reporting the bad news: 100 mph winds had slammed into Cleveland and Lakewood with brutal force; people had died, including some who had been electrocuted by power lines like the ones Robin and I had dodged. Scores were injured; hundreds were missing on Lake Erie — and the hospitals, all on emergency power, were under a terrible strain.

As I began to recount my saga to my family, the phone rang. 

It was Lakewood Hospital—my brother Chris was in the emergency room. My parents rushed to the car and somehow made it to the hospital, despite the trees and the power lines and the flooded streets. When they phoned a few hours later they told us point blank: “Chris is in critical condition — a priest has given him his last rites — and and it doesn’t look like he is going to make it.” 

Sobbing uncontrollably, I ran to the darkness of my bedroom and began to pray. . .and pray. . .and pray. “If you let him live, Lord,” I said, “I will never fight with him again. I-WILL-NEVER-FIGHT-WITH-HIM-AGAIN.” I repeated this mantra hundreds of times, begging and pleading and crying all the while.

Over the coming hours and days we learned that a tree of more than four feet in diameter had hit Chris. We also discovered that the very same tree that had struck my brother so violently had killed the sister of one of my classmates. 

We learned of the heroism of volunteers and emergency workers who risked their own safety to free my brother — who had been trapped in the middle of the tree after it splintered around him. And we learned that once Chris had been freed from the clutches of the tree how the volunteers and ER workers carried him to a makeshift triage in a garage nearby the Park in an attempt to save his life.

Today is the 42nd anniversary of that day.

On the 30th Anniversary I drove to Lakewood Park before all of the festivities began — and just sat quietly. Then I picked up the phone and dialed.

I told the person on the other end that thirty years prior I had made a promise to God—that if he would spare the life of my brother that I would not fight with him—ever again.

“It’s been thirty years,” I said. “And do you realize that we’ve never had so much as a disagreement?”

On the other end of the phone, my brother Chris sobbed. Since the accident, his life has been one of unbelievable twists and turns — of challenges and faith — and of real-life drama.

But forty-two years later I am happy to report that God did indeed answer my prayers — on that night when the storm changed everything.

Labels: , ,

23 April 2011

AN ODE TO CANADA - (abridged from the film 'A Question of Sovereignty')


Has Canada lost its way?


"A QUESTION OF SOVEREIGNTY - An Ode to Canada" explores how Canadians are being stripped of their civil liberties by government agencies — and how powerful forces are using legislative efforts, free trade deals and other international agreements to override Canadian democracy.

Written and Directed by international award-winner Kevin P. Miller, this abridged version features the voices of some of Canada's greatest political figures, from Diefenbaker to Turner. The film not only identifies modern-day threats to personal and national sovereignty in Canada, but offers solutions to the constitutional challenges facing the nation in the 21st century.


17 April 2011

Interview with Kevin P. Miller - ARC Conference in Bath UK - part 2 of 3

03 April 2011

SARAH'S LAST WISH - a book by Eve Hillary

Ancient philosophers often stated that there can be no personal or spiritual growth without pain. Suffering and anguish, we are told, are the brutal conduits to enlightenment; they are the catalysts to inner-questioning, exploration, and ultimately, metamorphosis. Pain and suffering force us to face cold hard truths and help define our ethics.

I am no stranger to pain. As a filmmaker since 1990, I have documented thousands of individual medical nightmares. In truth, I have seen too much...and felt too much hurt. So the prospect of reading about another personal train wreck...another tale of tragedy and heartbreak made me wary. Within the opening pages of Sarah's Last Wish, however, Eve's Hillary's powerful writing immersed me into the world of 11-year old Sarah Westley, a young girl diagnosed with ovarian cancer. . .and there was no turning back.

Sarah's Last Wish is a transformative book, a passionate homage to millions of people harmed by conventional medical institutions. But is also a prayer to return freedom and humanity back to healthcare worldwide.

Sarah's Last Wish shares not only the pain, but the Light that was Sarah, whose childlike, if not Godlike wisdom haunts us with the reminder that the smallest voices can offer the most profound lessons.

As we debate how to create not only a better healthcare system, but a better world, Sarah's Last Wish offers lessons on how our medical systems must change if we are to ever truly reach societal enlightenment. It asks whether we are humane enough to hear the gracious wisdom of an 11-year old girl...and whether we are willing act to preserve all we hold dear about humanity itself.

Kevin P. Miller
Writer/Director
April 2011

02 April 2011

IN LOVE AND REMEMBRANCE: PAMELA DICKENS GILCHRIST

PAMELA DICKENS GILCHRIST WAS AN ANGEL ON EARTH. From the first time we met in the early 1990s, we had an intimate connection. I honored her repeatedly when I was in her presence; it was quite easy to do with such a gentle soul.

I was the best man at her wedding, when she married my dear friend Charles Gilchrist. She had this silly giggle of a laugh that was so endearing. And so I tried — incessantly so — to make her laugh, just to unleash the glee.

It was glorious when I succeeded.

Though she would never concur, she was just a gorgeous gal — and one of the most gracious people to have ever crossed my path.

Today is the 11th anniversary of her death from breast cancer. She was 47.

Even though I had a special place in her heart, I knew I was not alone, for there were many whom she loved in such innocent and spectacular ways.

I can honestly say that not a week goes by without me thinking of her. I see her in my dreams — and my daydreams. She speaks to me, I think, just to let me know that I still have responsibilities to carry forth.

So today, Breathe. Take in every minute. Do not take for granted even a moment of Life. Honor your time here. Express your love. Live your dreams. Now.

Don’t wait.

31 March 2011

THE WISDOM OF COMMON PEOPLE







I have learned so much by simply listening to the thousands of people I’ve met as a result of Generation RX and my other films like We Become Silent and Let Truth Be The Bias. Often times, the revelations come from individuals who have traveled to hear me speak; to be “taught” by me — but it is I who walks away feeling invigorated and educated by the personal sagas they share. It is, believe it or not, one of the reasons I wanted to become a writer in the first place.

As writers, we are supposed to be good listeners, supposed to be the link to reason, caring, and wisdom—but often, we dismiss the kind of knowledge that can only come from listening to countless someones we meet on our path.

George Edwin Bielby is one of the men who touched me during my early years as a filmmaker. I’d like to honor him, and tell why his life was such a stark reflection of all things good and bad about medicine in the modern age.

Mr. Bielby passed away on February 28, 1997 at the age of 90 years old. He led a relatively normal life—he and his wife Elizabeth raised two fine boys, whom they loved dearly. His life was unspectacular by Hollywood standards, with the exception of one important footnote: he was supposed to die 10-12 years before he did. Mr. Bielby suffered from arteriosclerosis, the most pervasive form of cardiovascular disease in the world. It is a plague which accounts for 40 to 50 percent of all of the deaths in the United States. It is our number one killer.

Mr. Bielby had his first heart attack in 1962 while fishing in a small town in Colorado at very high altitude. His next came nearly ten years later, and a third, nearly fatal attack came in 1984. The attacks increased in severity each time, and Mr. Bielby was prescribed beta blockers and other prescription drugs to quell the problem. He was not told to change his diet, watch his fat intake, decrease his sodium intake, or take any supplements. He was only told to take his prescription drugs. He said he could feel his heart getting physically weaker, but he didn’t know what else to do.

The bills were worrisome, adding tremendous stress to this Colorado native, so to pay for the expensive medical bills, he decided to sell his prize possession—his home of forty plus years. Adding further insult was how much out-of-pocket money his heart disease cost him: in excess of $50,000 over the years, even though he was “partially covered” by insurance and Medicare.

Mr. and Mrs. Bielby, who thought their golden years would be immeasurably different from what they were experiencing, were forced to move into a trailer in a small rural Colorado town during the 1980s. “It’s not so bad,” Mrs. Bielby told me once over tea in their cramped living room. “ The kids are gone now, so we don’t need as big a place....”

Mrs. Bielby was a strong woman who faced adversity head-on for over 80 years. She put up a good front. Her words didn’t reflect the pain of parting with most of the material possessions they spent a lifetime accumulating, but her eyes did—her eyes told the real story as she spoke.

By the time his fourth heart attack came in 1986, Mr. Bielby was near death, looking at riding out the rest of his years in a less than dignified manner. His conventionally trained cardiologist recommended angioplasty, but the surgeon on duty refused to operate, saying his arteries were so clogged—and his heart so weak— that he didn’t believe Mr. Bielby would survive the operation.

At what was undoubtedly the lowest point of this soft-spoken man’s life, the doctors sent Mr. Bielby home to die. He would be lucky, they surmised, to survive a few months in his present condition.

In their meagerly adorned trailer home, Mr. Bielby was depressed and found it nearly impossible to sleep. He couldn’t lie down because the oxygen wasn’t circulating well enough for him to breathe, so he had no choice, he had to sleep upright in his reclining chair, attached to an oxygen tank which clanked noisily outside the living room window. Mrs. Bielby slept on the sofa because “I was so afraid that my husband was going to die in the middle of the night.” She recalled Mr. Bielby, with tears in his eyes, asking her, “Why did you bring me home from the hospital, honey? I didn’t want to come back to this...I don’t want to live if I have to live like this.”

It was the Bielby’s darkest hour in fifty plus years of marriage. This gentle man, who had spent his life climbing mountains and fishing in coldwater streams, was going to die. It seemed like a sure bet.

THEN MR. BIELBY’S SON MADE AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY

Mr. Bielby’s son Dave is an industrious sort. While he suffers from Multiple Sclerosis himself, he just knew that something could be done to help his father, despite what the conventional doctors were telling him. Before they sent his dad home with no hope of survival, Dave began research that would change his father’s life in an amazing way.

Dave, also a resident of Colorado, began looking through medical journals for information and seeking out alternative/complementary doctors to treat his father. What he discovered both angered and elated him.

First, he began researching conventional medical journals, the ones trumpeted nearly every evening on the national news. After an elaborate intensive search, he found editorials in the New England Journal of Medicine which questioned the efficacy of the invasive conventional treatments for heart disease: angioplasty, heart bypass, and others. He discovered that for all the talk about “double blind controlled studies,”—the veneer which most in conventional medicine hide behind—that there were no studies which proved the scientific efficacy of heart bypass and the other major heart therapies. In fact, the further Dave Bielby dug into the data, the more disturbed and angry he became.

Armed with this new knowledge, he went to a seminar in Boulder in search of a natural remedy which would save his father’s life. He listened intently to what the doctors were saying about the positive effects of diet, nutrition and something called “chelation therapy.” He read Elmer Cranton’s Bypassing Bypass and learned more about chelation, and he even read Prescription for Nutritional Healing to get an overview of how to treat his father’s illness nutritionally. A whole new world was opening up to him—and much of it included treatments he had never heard of before.

My father was a perfect example of why people are losing faith in conventional medicine,” said Dave. “In December of 1986, his doctors sent him home to die. They wanted him to sit around the house with an oxygen bottle running into his nose. When I asked my dad’s doctors about this new information—this new hope I had acquired for saving his life, they really got defensive, and told me ‘chelation is unproven—it is unsafe,’ and that he would die even sooner if he didn’t do the drugs they told him to. These men, who made tens of thousands of dollars off of my father over the years, literally used every scare tactic in the book. My family was quite offended that they wouldn’t even LOOK at the information we brought with us. They wouldn’t discuss it, they just dismissed us outright. It still astonishes me today.”

MILLIONS ARE DYING FROM PREVENTABLE DEATHS

Surprising as it might have been for Dave, it is quite apparent from the state of our nation’s health that millions are perishing because of a lack of knowledge. Cancer and heart disease are epidemic, and health costs continue to rise, even though modern medicine’s attempts to eradicate these plagues have failed miserably.

Health might be defined as "freedom from disease," however, doctors are trained about disease, not health. How to cure disease, not prevent it. In fact, very few hours of medical schooling are allotted to preventive health measures, concentrating instead on diagnosing disease and caring for the sick and dying. Don't misunderstand me, it is imperative that treating the sick and afflicted remains a primary goal of the modern medical practitioner. But along with the treatment of disease, physicians must become teachers of health as well.

Prescriptions for health should become the doctors primary tool, not just the CAT Scan, the laser, and the newest surgical intervention for atherosclerosis.

Heart disease, you see, is inherently reversible. One can reverse the blockages, reverse the symptoms, and get well again, even after years of weakening the heart through invasive and often ill-informed treatment choices.

We know now that nearly every conventional therapy for cardiovascular disease weakens the heart. Beta blockers weaken the heart. Calcium channel blockers weaken the heart. Diuretics don’t necessarily weaken the heart, but they dehydrate the body.

It may seem controversial to you, but most conventional cardiologists would admit that the whole theory behind treating a cardiovascular disease with drugs is to weaken the heart so  it cannot work hard enough to bring on angina.

How many of those millions who have heart disease have ever been told to take L-Carnitine by a conventional doctor? Basically, conventional doctors would never give you L-Carnitine. It is a natural substance, available over the counter—and it was even advertised in the New England Journal of Medicine a few decades ago to a thundering silence. L-Carnitine is a unique substance that transports fat into the mydochondria and enhances energy. It is one of those elements that can enhance the strength of your heart and the efficiency of the heart, without many of the negatives associated with the conventional beta-blockers. Indeed, almost all drugs for cardiovascular disease make the heart weaker, they bring the heart down. They lower the ejection fraction, they slow the heart rate, and slow the blood pressure down. They actually weaken the heart. The weak heart won't feel the pain or doesn't get to the point where it needs enough oxygen for the pain, but in my opinion, the long time use of these beta blockers are debilitating, to be sure.

There exists, however, a natural, wonderful substance that can make the heart work better and stronger, and it was published in, of all places, the American Journal of Cardiology. As a matter of fact, there were several articles in the American Journal of Cardiology on L-Carnitine. But few physicians seem to be listening, except, perhaps, for so-called alternative doctors, who are handling the patients flocking to alternative medicine in droves.

There is a doctor I know in California who is in pediatrics and she gives all of her kids with failing hearts L-Carnitine. It is miraculous for cardiomyopathy in pediatrics. There’s another fellow whom I met at a bookstore in New Jersey whose grandson was told he had fatal cardiomyopathy. The child was six months old at the time—and the doctors gave him about another four or five months to live because his heart was very large and swollen. 

Six years went by. And believe it or not, the doctor still told the parents that the child was going to die of cardiomyopathy, even though there was no cardiomyopathy that could be diagnosed. But the most important battle was won: that of the life of a young healthy boy, probably the only kid on the block who took L-Carnitine and Co-enzyme Q-10!

All of this means that it's your life.  Don’t trust it to a doctor who isn’t willing to listen to your unique story.

In truth, that’s what Dave Bielby did: he made certain that his father saw a more open minded medical doctor. The result was a period of vitality and wonder for a man who— by the age of 80—had suffered four heart attacks.

By seeking out another Colorado physician, the Bielby’s went ahead with chelation therapy. They changed his diet, and gave him nutritional supplements for the first time in his life. His health turned around rather dramatically. Three days after the first chelation treatment, Mr. Bielby slept soundly in his recliner. Three weeks later, the combination of chelation, a changed diet and nutritional supplements allowed him to go back to his own bed. He was sleeping throughout the night without any problems!

Unfortunately, the Bielby’s had to pay for these treatments out of their own pockets. Each chelation treatment cost the Bielby’s $75. Medicare initially re-imbursed $26 per treatment—and steadfastly refused to pay for the supplements. Then Medicare cut the re-imbursement to $10; then $8; then they just stopped paying altogether.


The irony is, of course, that if a senior citizen is under the care of a conventional cardiologist enters a hospital for conventional treatment, Medicare pays for nearly all of the expenses: the cardiologist, the room, the prescription drugs, the x-rays and testing—everything! Something is dramatically wrong when less costly, less invasive, more helpful treatments exist and yet insurance companies won’t pay their fair share. But to the Bielby’s, all of the money for chelation and nutritional supplements were well worth the price. The boys enjoyed their father’s company—and Mrs. Bielby counted the blessings of every day for nearly a decade with her husband.

To hear Dave tell the story, the years from 1986 until his death in February 1997 were the best of his father’s life. “If anything, he over-enjoyed his newfound health,” Dave told me. “During that period, Dad never saw a hill he didn’t want to see the other side of. He beat us all to the top—and was waiting for us at the bottom. That’s how he lived the last ten years of his life—with dignity and vigor and an unbelievable passion—for life.”

George Bielby, it turns out, wasn’t a common man at all. He was a clear thinker—a man who led by example. He was an extraordinary man who sought the best that life could offer—grateful for every sunset, every drop of rain—every hill he encountered on the path of life.

That’s what I wish for all of you—the best life can offer. Armed with the proper knowledge, you will see that the road doesn’t always end where the doctors say it does.

Fourteen years after his death, and 17 years after I interviewed him, George Bielby is still an inspiration to me. He taught me early on that the wisdom of common people still mattered...and set me on a path to reveal their truth, despite the incantations of far too many in the medical field.