A few years ago, as part of a video project I'd volunteered for, I had the opportunity to interview veterans and hear about their lives and struggles. One particular day, my interview subject casually mentioned, "Twenty-two veterans kill themselves every day." It stopped me dead in my tracks. I thought I had misheard. I didn't. That was a pivotal moment for me in this journey to make this film. I realized right then and there that there was a crisis in this country, taking place right in front of our eyes, one to which many of us, including myself, were blind. In some deep silent corner of that realization, I felt utterly compelled to do something, to act, to serve, to help these people who had sacrificed so much.
Once I had passed the "sniff test" with them, these vets opened up and shared with me some of their most intimate, harrowing experiences, usually those found on the extreme end of the human spectrum. The connection we shared through these exchanges was of an intensity that would knock me off my feet. It often felt as if time itself had stopped. At some fundamental level, I wanted to create a film that would give others a chance to experience that stunning reciprocity, that unbelievable, profound connection. I believe that hearing stories can lead to empathy, which can lead to action.
There's tremendous work yet to be done to help properly care for our returning warriors and all servicemen and women. One of the most important and, indeed, hopeful aspects of the story is the wider acknowledgement that there is such a thing as a "moral injury," a wound that has no outward physical traits but yet can act as the primary unseen force that can destroy a person's life. Veterans and their families are sometimes all too familiar with some of the possible symptoms; substance abuse, alcohol addiction, estrangement, failed marriages, low self-esteem, depression, rage, helplessness and botched suicide attempts. But just by identifying the nature of this injury, we can take the seminal steps toward healing it in appropriate and effective ways. It's clear; we cannot merely medicate our way out of a pain stemming from inner conflict. The only remedy that makes sense is to treat it at the source, which requires one to turn within.
My sincere hope is that, in the midst of this urgent crisis, the film will stir people to consider the significance of including holistic practices, such as proven ancient breath techniques and meditation, in the overall approach to our veterans' wellness. One vet whom I had encountered had reluctantly, skeptically tried a powerful breathing exercise. After a period of time, he was able to come off of his regimen of numbing meds. He says it was like waking up for the first time in 40 years. He advised other younger veterans not to wait so long.
The making of the film has created a tremendous opening for me. I can more deeply appreciate and, hopefully, as a consequence, more deeply convey an understanding: that in embracing the struggles of these men and women, and their families--these very human pillars who endeavor to keep the home together--we are not only helping to lift whole communities, but, in essence, we are lifting ourselves. Truly, there is no "other."
— Michael Collins, Director