Things sometimes just emerge from my mouth spontaneously, but then they remain with me for years afterward. One such occasion was some time ago when I made the statement, "When I die, I want to die healthy."

I said it in response to someone's comment on how diligent I am in following a meal plan that enhances management of diabetes. Since being diagnosed with diabetes 14 years ago, it has been my ongoing mission to do whatever I can to manage the disease, including a healthy diet, regular exercise and regular checkups.

Almost one year ago, I started the South Beach Diet, my latest attempt to shed my body of unwanted pounds and to produce a more healthy body. Amazingly, this has been the diet (I hate that word) that has worked for me. Not only has it helped me shed unwanted weight, but it has lowered my cholesterol and triglycerides to normal levels, something I have never experienced before. The results have been stable and long-lasting with little to no effort on my part. I enjoy what I eat, and I get plenty of healthy, satisfying food.

But now I'm starting a new diet. I'm attempting to shed myself of unwanted, unnecessary and useless noise. My mind and my soul, overfed and badly nourished with the useless cacophony of sounds that bombard me every day, are telling me that if I'm going to remain true to my goal to die healthy, they need to be properly fed as well.

I'm stripping myself of noise, especially the kind I can certainly do without. I'm banishing the constant barrage of racket, clatter and chatter that invades my hearing and thinking, creates a sense of constant urgency and fills my mind with useless information that is so "critical" I forget it within one minute of hearing it.

The television that used to come on as soon as I woke (for background noise) now remains off. Katie Couric and Matt Lauer no longer join me for breakfast. What a difference no "Today" makes!

The radio noise that used to surround my closed-in car has been turned off in favor of quiet rides that enhance my ability to concentrate and give me reflective time when I am making transitions in my day. The absence of radio noise makes me feel less hurried and more clearly focused on matters that have true significance.

At home in the evenings, I'm turning off the television for reading and conversations over the dinner table. Connecting with real human beings, whom I love and who love me, is so much more meaningful than sitting in front of a noisy electronic box that, even with 80 channels, has little to nothing of substance to offer. And when it's really time to unwind, that confounded box has a way of producing a noise-producing wind that denies my mind and body's need to relax.

Reading a good book, curled up on the couch or in my bed, is gaining favor again as one of my favorite pastimes. Sometimes it's a book that I study, underlining special passages and writing notes to myself when the words seem to point directly at me. Other times it's a book that invites me into other people's lives, allowing me to learn from them and their life experiences.

So far, it's been a good diet. I have not suffered any major withdrawal symptoms — no nervous ticks, no shakes, no cravings for a good old rock and roll song or a dose of "The Today Show" trivia.

Instead, I'm steadily adjusting to a healthier mind and soul, fed by the quiet solitude of a new diet. Perhaps it, even more than my nutritional diet, will help me fulfill my ambition to die healthy.

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