love and mercy

loose thoughts:

just watched love and mercy as almost a stranger to the beach boys and a foreigner to the name brian wilson;
thoughts flying around, but one thought always―
a wish always for more films like this, more works that
help others access and gain insight to the
easily destructive nature of creating, and the
covert complex cunning personality of mental illness

say, the beach boys:
did we know, as the beats
drum the electric nights of bodies sweating with melody,
as keening tunes sing our joy, put words to hoarded anguish―
do we listen to the
soul of blood that they gave,
perhaps more than they realised―

and for others, who have
no choice but to keep going, keep pounding,
keep digging, keep falling deeper,
keep diving past the blue into black depths knowingly,
past their own falling aparts and ruins―
all to bring to life something,
something they may know of, or
that they may not even know of.
but until then, there is no rest
and even after, there will be no rest.

do they realise, do they know?

say, that brian wilson wanted to make music to heal people:
did he think of healing himself in the process? or realise
how much life was bleeding out of him, in order to give life
into his music, to others?

and the mental prism:
understanding begets empathy,
the first step to acceptance.
mental illness is not something to be afraid of, nor to belittle
we have so little knowledge of the mind
(and we think we have so much of the body)
it’s just an existence of a different kind, and like anything else,
anyone else,
just be there, don’t give up
like they themselves―
they don’t give up,
so,
don’t give up.

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