Did Anyone Notice?

We're finally getting the dribs and drabs that will gradually enlighten us, if we can stand the water torture of the MSM drip-drip-drip long enough.

One fact that hit me in the face like a cod on the way to the chippie is this: The alleged "bombers" in the UK were doctors.

Perhaps not great bombers, especially considering their devices were, in reality, more hope than heat generating mixtures, without the proper means to achieve the Thriller Flick Big Explosion effect.

They were doctors, not explosives experts.

They were people dedicated to the healing of others. And if, if they were in fact intent upon being bombers and taking a bunch of others along with them in their fiery demise, they must have reached a point where they had nothing else to do. They had reached the end of their rope and there was no knot in the end.

They, collectively or individually could see no way to get past the despair that makes suicide bombers. After all, they weren't hooligans seeking a moment of glory, drugged up madmen, or products of ghettoized despair.

They were doctors. They were, and remain at the end of the day, lousy terrorists. Ineffective. For all that learning, they didn't get it right. Except to make a statement. I heard.

They were doctors.

When the doctors start blowing themselves to Kingdom Come, there is waaaaaaay too much despair somewhere for life, wherever that despair lives, to go on.

They were doctors.

They'd worked all their lives to learn, treat, help, counsel, and make well that which is broken by disease or injury.

Most especially I noted the neurosurgeon/neurologist labels. When healers that treat the worst diseases and injuries of all, those that steal away the mind (and souls) of the ill, start to think immolation is the way out, there is more than trouble in River City. There's some serious healing needing to be done.

For the doctors.

For their patients.

For the place where there is no place to go, no hope of healing, nothing beyond despair.

It is despair for the most part that drives suicide bombers into crowds. Where there is nothing left to lose, there is nothing more to be done than making a spectacular statement.

"Look at this. Look at what I have done, what I am doing. There is nowhere else that I can go. I can only explode myself and hope the message of these flames are seared into the hearts of all that see this. And then, after the flames die out, those seared hearts must come together and do what no doctors, governments, armies or forces of society have yet done. There must be healing in the place where I can do no more. There must be healing in the place where I cannot any longer heal. I leave it to you. In flames and explosions and suffering, burns, injury and death."

Is that what the message from the doctors was to be?

We do not know.

But that is what I noticed. That is what my Muse has be screaming in my ear for days now.

Heal the Hell on earth that brought those flames to the UK, and an airport. Heal the hell that brought them to the place of a message writ large in fire.

That is what the doctors said to me.

I do not condone their actions, nor do I condone the actions of those that brought this Hell to those that concluded they had no other way out.

They were doctors.

It is on us to heal their pain. It is on us to heal that pain that made their message necessary and so compelling they would sacrifice their lives, and their life's work to make the message heard.

They were doctors.

And we must be doctors.

Now.

Let the healing begin. In Iraq. In the Middle East. In us. In the world.

And in our hearts.

They were doctors. Let the healing begin.