This is a human arms embrace of every body's real true nature and real birth humanity... It's sunrise. Birds sing.

Through the searing heat, American and Middle East (elsewhere, in homes throughout the world, a war continues) wounded are rushed as injured comrades toward a medic helicopter. Others are abandoned in sand, and abandoned in beds with no one at their wounded bedridden, human heart side. Minutes ago, a roadside bomb blasted innocent persons standing aside crowded street marketplaces, where victims gathered to receive and muster a collective hope from a society's innate comfort and solace, humans' collective capacities. Patrols in Iraq have little time to reflect about the home battlefront stateside, and they define war by what they only can eyewitness there. It's numbing terrible. It's relentless grief, blood, screams, and anticipation of one after another, daily, those ear-drum blasting, "bleep" unsuspected IED (not a iud, uterine device, hush) explosive, body shredder, attacks, and vicious urban fighting, a entire horrible rape {?} a wondering, "Why?"

Others, with a sensitivity to unnecessary pain, in uniform or in civilian attire, rush with speed, discovered within their shared humanity, and with automatic, and with spontaneous, innate compassion, go to save the precious lives of the wounded.

We are hurting. We need relief from perpetual suffering. We need to be embraced in loving, warm human arms, and kept from harms way by ending the wars caused by the 'strife' within us. Some wounded are rescued quickly and propelled into medical systems that often seem cold and heartless facilities that serve a criminal heath and insurance, fraudulent, industry. Being swept from a blood soaked battlefield, thinking once off the battlefields, are we, will we be safe?

Is stateside safer than a war medical patch evac-hospice, where a cot and a youthful doc can stop the artery's, if they pinched shut to cease a blood flow...(*)...

...Once home, doctors, medical hearing boards, families, and communities help "victims" to rebuild lives, one day at a time...Here and abroad...Stay Alive.

People will fail. It's an individual realization. And thanks for helping, each one here, to help mend wounds, as we meet at the Salon, my friends. Amen, and amen, and so be it, and always embrace hope and love. That's all I've found to help in times like these...Thanks.

Non-Resistance...It's the way it is...we can improve our self, and that is a baby, one step, one breath, and a one day at a time improvement that never end. We are never perfect or complete, or entirely whole. It's daily caring. It's striving and aiming to do what is good and pure, and what seems right at the time. Aim toward kindness, a loving-kind, and that's not so easy in the midst of 'evil' in adversity. What a Life classroom. I need to go see the Sunday fishermen down at the lake. It's a male gossip pond. Do the fish bite on worms, guppies, bread ball dough, or fly's. It changes like the heart and weather. I'm enjoying the Sunday morn service, and I even hope a Mennonite invites me to a foot-wash service meeting.

I can bring the cream and jelly doe-nuts and a cup of sassafras tea from a chopped up wood tree root! No 'cutties!

Pure enjoyment here, and often it's an embarrassments. too. Dat's okay docs and law gals and girls. We humans still got some hugging arms and legs if we stop IED's.

Let's embrace a tree and you/me 'i' he/she we/it and i, me you thee...together, okay. How about a hoop-thee lulu, and a yap-pa yap Dada, hope we/I can invite a bluebird to p** on our soldier's, instead of let them die in the blood soaked sands in the Middle East. Bring Them Home.

The bobbers are popping up and down, under the water, and then the fish get fed. No hot sizzle cast iron pot gets used today. Thank the good lard, and we rejoice. Yes.

Inspired from Wendells Berry's novel, "Jabber Crow," paraphrased and shared, with a respectful thanks to Wendell's and golden hen's that lay brown eggs, fried sunny side upward. Good yokes, extra gold. wow.

'The Way of Love.'

...It is a fearful thing to be married to strife and yet live alone, and sleep alone (as I felt in my worst days after war) like the dead in the ground. And yet ever that one night in the wars jungle, I lived under the power of a vow, and I have kept that vow to honor till death.

...It was sometimes in my mind and heart what I had done, and pain will never really leave me until I rest in peace after my life is ended. The sacrifice, home or abroad, is to also live in the desert and feel no joy and see no hope. I remember those old feeling as if the hurt and accumulated pain visits me to inflicted me again, today. That is when I must go on and live by faith alone, faith without hope.

...What good can come from that? I have got to have love in my heart.

...Am I a fool? I know myself to be a man skilled in self-deception, and so maybe (for the sake of argument, for the sake of whatever truth may be in argument) maybe I ought to suppose that I am fooling myself.

...Why should I believe in a virtue such as 'loving-kindness' or would it be wise to bicker and battle at times? Married couples do that each day. I assume it's true and not...

...When at times life seems incomprehensible, at times, as thwarting and outrageous as people can be...

...All I can answer to my own individual self, I must practice to learn 'The Way of Love'...I believe.