Fyoraa rise above part 1i the snake that guards the holy secret

Rise above
About little lamas and Upstairs

Linda
- Meaning of name: shield made of Linden wood;
snake, keeper of secrets; pretty; beautiful
The snake that guards the holy secret

All stories start with a beginning. This one, though you wouldn’t think it, starts here.
Tibet.

Once upon a time there was a rock star. Who asked a question. “What happened
to the beauty I had inside of me?” You would think he would want an answer.
RED would have nothing to do with me, right?

“And I miss you, when you are not around. I’m getting ready to leave the ground.”
I came to collect on a promise. So sue me. It was a promise made in another life,
but in this life, consciously, that was what the IJssellaan was to me.
So maybe now, it is time for me to tell you my story.

“Johnny take a walk with your sister the moon. Let her pale light in,
to fill up your room. You have been living underground, eating from a can.
You have been running away, from what you don’t understand.”
To me, that is to Rob.

“Johnny take a dive with your sister in the rain. Let her talk
about the things, you can’t explain. To touch is to heal, to hurt is to
steal. If you want to kiss the sky, you better learn how to kneel.”
You really don’t get much. You get deified. It comes with the territory.
And then it is you singing it.

“She is the wave. She turns the tide. She sees the man inside the child.”
You sing about a person.

“It's alright, it's alright, it's alright. She moves in mysterious ways. It's
alright, it's alright, it's alright. She moves in mysterious ways. It's alright,
it's alright, it's alright. She moves in mysterious ways. It's alright,
it's alright, it's alright. Lift my days, light up my nights.”
You are reassuring him. To me, that is what this song is about. The divinity is just an aside.
And you sing about someone you both know. Someone you both know to be divine.

And that would be this one: “She’s slippy. You’re sliding down.
She’ll be there when you hit the ground.” With again
the reference to this person being divine.
My sense of humour: try and deny it.

He is the Dalai Lama. But there were more like him, as revered. Would you like to ask him
how many they are missing? Oh, and by the way, fully aware of the allusion: yes, I rock.
I am a tertön. A treasure finder. Probably a great one. With what they did: most likely.

“You bury your treasure, where it cannot be found. But
your love is like a secret, that gets passed around. “
And you just might be unlucky.

Slightly sarcastic: 600 million in the bank would make up for that, right?
You would think so.

Cool observation, further down in the presentation, brought to the forefront:

it seems that anyone doing something beautiful and visible
will find him draped all over them.

Cold, cold northern wind is back, blowing in your direction. And I am in stitches.
You should have known better. What did I tell you? Don’t piss them off.
If I could throw him a bone? By choosing this picture? It goes
downhill from here? And well deserved, mind you.

Aaahhhhh! (That was to the left one, after having agreed to the previous picture.)
Covering eyes with hand: just no talking. I can’t handle him talking.
I’ll translate that: there is the asshole. That is the
problem with me: I will always be nice.

Hours and hours of watching him with a very small inner child and: nothing.
Just this sense of a strong polar wind blowing. He is not-the-one-she-remembers. And
I don’t know him. Because after not one, but two three-to-four year periods of
writing to him, it still hasn’t occurred to him to develop a relationship.
And he is an ass, if he is not an asshole.

It was a little while before the ‘Aaahhhhh’. You need to pay
attention to them. That photo got studied. It was a quick judgement:
that jacket is atrocious. And what did they stick Adam into?
You open your mouth and you are in trouble. Seriously. This one photo
was from a time when you were still attractive. Well, somewhat.

That photo gets another look. We zoom in…
Nope. Asshole.

Thoughts that are rarely allowed on my conscious mind, that way. About this other jacket
being atrocious. And what did they stick Adam into? And that leather jacket looks good on
him. Wanting to share these observations. There is an inner child that is starting to dare
to relate. It’s small steps, but still. And you are not to take it as an invitation.

Any photo of you of this period just doesn’t get the same response. Sour: now
would be the time to find out that some of that did stick, wouldn’t it?

Putting that one mildly. All these years of hours and hours spent
writing… and an equal amount of that time spent sitting with
inner children. (And their feelings, is the complaint.)
And no, it isn’t. That’s not why the IJssellaan was a happier time. Pissed off.

Which is how you can get me to go along with the theme.
Doing an impression of Robin: Kill him? Can I kill
him? Oh please, oh please?

There is something with these two. Material for comparison.

Windswept and interesting. But not really.

With him, you would almost have our whole management team together, wouldn’t you?
(Robin, and that he was part of our team. Along with Michael. And Billy. If you can call it
that. A management team. Because we loved each other.)

Oh, I’m sorry Mr. CEO. Since you are not Tibetan. My management team.

If you know that someone you love will grow up as a child and not get a chance
to grow up, would you want to somehow not leave this child alone?
Not just in childhood, but for most of her life?
1978. Mork and Mindy. I remember him. He was nice to her.

He got a two year old not-interested-in-him at the time though. Internally.
He-is-nothing-to-do-with-me. There-is-no-relationship. That feeling. But he got watched.
As Robin. Not that much. Carefully, every so often, as you would in a regular relationship.
And related to. Quietly. Every now and then. When it is safe. In her own mind.
In a safe way. So that it is not there on her conscious mind a little while
later. And she is alone. And unlikely to be asked about him.
Because there is no relationship. Officially.
Reads it back, because this is me writing this for her, conclusion: you don’t get much.
If you need this much information. She didn’t have a problem with him. So he got watched.

Not that she wanted to watch him. Or relate to him. It was sort of obligatory.
And that maybe has something to do with him in his next life.
And that maybe is something he asked her, that she agreed to, with a “fine.”
Hence the obligatory part. Alright. She promised.

Robin was always very loveable. And that may have been intentional on his part.
Because then it is only understandable if you love him a little bit. So he got a two year old
and a four year old, but only a four year old – did I ever mention she is a control freak
– because there is a two year old who allowed him a bit of access to her.
And most of the time he was completely, coolly ignored.
You tend to spark a different kind of relating. Also two and four.

That impression of Robin is about global warming, “Is it hot enough for you?”
and people in unfortunate shorts. Overweight people in unfortunate shorts, presumably,
though he leaves that unsaid. It’s a dig and you deserve it. You having a tendency
towards the unfortunate. Just to make it extra clear.
And in stitches. You have been complaining about my associations.

“And you see people wearing shorts that you are going: please
don’t wear those. Oh, please. Don’t put those on.”
Neither one of them is for the faint of heart.

Which is exactly the role you have been playing. Faint of heart.
Well then. If you would? Fuck off! There are those
who actually do have the cojones. Out!
And blèghhh. Inner child subtext.

(Full blown sarcasm:) Let’s go with this theme as well. No, we are all
for you staying alive over here. Reincarnation. I live it everyday as a reality.
When someone dies you have karma with, they are born around you and
you get to work out your issues. And again, just to make it clear:
We don’t want to work out any issues. We want you gone.

Mind you, keep pushing your way into my life and all bets
are off. It might even be worth some jail time.
Puzzled: who would want someone that loud in your life any way?

Full blown sarcasm, because the system they created is almost imperceptible.
It was designed to be. But then, you already know that. And it isn’t really
comparable to anything else. So why compare? Equate to? As if
I am an insect underneath a microscope. Leave me be.
I don’t need to be constantly “examined”.

This system they created was designed to have you hide. All of the time. As a
regular person, which I am not, and can’t be, and as a schizophrenic when dealing
with having been considered divine. Or, for a more common word for it: holy.
And if you were to see me you would think that I am one. A regular person.

Concerts would then be a way to get me to come, wouldn’t it? You are part of a crowd
and invisible. And I wouldn’t be the only one. That there are more who are trained like
that. Tibetans. To their rules, as a regular person in a regular relationship. And
for some, if they have their own fame, it is a way to connect.
So it has a purpose. As a Tibetan. Being in a band.

And they had reason to. To force you to hide being Tibetan. This is a little tulku.
And I am that and something else. So most of us are hiding as regular persons.
Some of us are hiding as celebrities. Or as politicians. In public view. And I -

- got screwed… over, Satan. I am in a mood here. You had to go sing, didn’t you?
You know, a little schizophrenia goes a long way. That doesn’t quite need you.
And there is no truth in advertising with you, now, is there?

Achtung, baby. “There is a silence that comes to the house, when no one can sleep.”

I'm ready
Ready for the laughing gas
I'm ready
Ready for what's next
Ready to duck
Ready to dive
Ready to say
I'm glad to be alive
I'm ready
Ready for the push
-
She's just down the line ... Zoo Station
Got to make it on time ... Zoo Station

We get identified… a little further down in the lyrics. And three, four more
times on the rest of the album. Just in case it might not be clear enough
who it is about. And who it is he is getting ready for.
-
Ready for the deal
Ready to let go
Of the steering wheel
I'm ready
Ready for the crush
Alright, alright, alright, alright, alright
It's alright ... it's alright ... it's alright ... it's alright
Hey baby ... hey baby ... hey baby ... hey baby ...
It's alright
It's alright

I would be someone you would have to ‘let go of the steering wheel’ for. With
a laugh: understatement. “Hi. I’m the one you have been singing about.”
I have this fund…

With a dirty laugh, and in Dutch that means
what I mean: … and I am the real deal.
Gasp.

It has been in front of me the whole time. You sing about a treasure finder
about to find the treasure that I did find. And then I did bring it to you.
Satan.

Reflection: Zoo Station went over my head. As it was supposed to. Now why
is that the first song on that album? I liked the sound of it at the time.

Ah. With hindsight: we’re co-ordinating. It’s 1991. I was 21 at the time.
And school was no longer going to contain me. Crisis.
Well, what did you expect? For her to be respectful?
Time is a train
Makes the future the past
Leaves you standing in the station
Your face pressed up against the glass
I'm just down the line from your love ... Zoo Station
Under the sign of your love ... Zoo Station
I'm gonna be there ... Zoo Station
Tracing the line ... Zoo Station
I'm gonna make it on time ... make it on time ... Zoo
Station
Just two stops down the line ... Zoo Station
Just a stop down the line ... Zoo Station

One is about a relationship that is damaged. 4, checked, not for me, 5, 6, 7
not for me, 8 is my song. And is to remind me of something.
That I am needed. Elsewhere. Being waited for.

9: problem identified, with me identified (hindsight is 20/20):
“How far are you gonna go before you lose your way back home
You been tryin' to throw your arms around the world.”
And again it was to go over my head, …Satan.

Listened to this song umpteen times, never thought it was about me.
But then, how could I have known? Sour: consciously?
I didn’t know I was on my way to find this fund, therefore ‘trying to throw my arms around
the world’. And then, you do hide it. I would never be hung over, I don’t drink.

Gonna run to you, run to you, run to you
I'm gonna run to you, run to you, run to you
I'm gonna run to you, run to you, run to you,
woman be still
Woman be still, woman be still, woman I will.
If you put this next to “shush now” would that provide information?
About the stage we are in? To ‘third parties’?
And God help me, no.

You have the siren song. But that is not
the one that has me pissed off.

Put the two next to each other, and note that I have been further identified
in ‘Mysterious Ways’: “Please drag little Miss Divine off to me.”
And the whole thing went over my head at the time.

And then you complain about it, …Satan. But back to my story.
And the beginning.
Pissed off.

A tulku is treasured because of his or her ability to be reborn with all of the knowledge
gained in previous lives. A treasure finder is really, really good at that, and more.
You would see me as a regular person, until… you find what I have hidden in my mind.

A treasure finder is someone who uncovers treasures that were hidden. He just
finds them. Magically. Terma is what they commonly call them.

And he would. He buried it there in a previous incarnation. With a laugh:
not that magically. He may find it three lifetimes later. And the way he finds it,
may be half subconscious. And he may consider the source of this information, of
something that has been buried, to come from elsewhere. A deity, perhaps?
Or another tulku. But it would be him who buried it there.

No, that is also actual treasure. Gold! It is a bit of a security measure not to
mention that. Times can be volatile sometimes. You would want to be able to rebuild.
Somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Imagine the security of having a tertön having buried
treasure three lifetimes before, and never having to check whether it is still there.
Also found half subconsciously. Though you do tend to remember
these kinds of things. And it never has to be written down.

Those are very special treasures. They are for when you really need them. Times of trouble.
No, it is also just what I do. I am like the one who ensures continuity.
Going silent: it is hard to explain. And a bit scary.

Monasteries tend to be the target of roving troops. In uncertain times.
Say, medieval ones. Now, you wouldn’t want to be known as the one who might
know where some extra treasure may be buried. Terma. Strictly those. And it is all
boringly and un-materialistically esoteric. Can you spot the halo on me?
With a laugh: so I am not always what I seem.
I believe someone just ordered more stigmatisation. This one for the insiders.

Now if you are going to rebuild somewhere else, somewhere safer, you would want
to scout out this new environment. Send a few people ahead. Preferably a generation before
you arrive, so that they are then already in place. They would reincarnate there. Just to
be clear. Since you don’t get much. Buddhism dates from around 600 to 400 BC.
But Tibetan Buddhism, as we know it, is from the 13th century.

“I just want to live a quieter life. For this lifetime.” Alright then.

Having just read through the history of Tibet, from about the 13th century
onwards, can we strike through “somewhere safer” and replace it with
“somewhere more adventurous”? We were not faint of heart.
There must have been something to do there.

From that follows that there are other kinds of treasure.
Gold is so… 1400’s. Though if you were to take over a few banks,
and a banking system, you would get yourself some.
That is the one I forgot. Just added. Apple!

Anything I buried in my mind would still be there. As well. Three lifetimes later. If you want.
And here is them wanting to keep something a secret.
For a certain amount of time.

With a laugh: it’s a bit like you are in a video game. I have more than one life. From
their perspective. Because it might not be three lifetimes later. I mean, if you were
to kill me in this lifetime, right in the middle, I just might be pissed off.
It is by now. Ha-ha-ha!

Oh… oops. And they couldn’t watch us 24/7. Or kill us.
Did I ever mention we meditated? What would we do when we meditated?
And it had to remain unnoticed, so we couldn’t stop meditating.
And how much time would it take to…?
So I am guessing here that I was still allowed to meditate. In my previous life.

‘The snake that guards the holy secret’, is when you think about it,
another name for a tertön. Linda. My birth name.
The snake part referring to something they did. Though snakes are also holy.

If you displace a community like that, where would they end up?
And would they be holding grudges?
In stitches. I just made a connection here. From their perspective: oops!

We were quite happy to answer that one for them.
Well, you leave them a few clues. And then they come
up with the answer, all on their own.

Now if they were holding grudges, they would end up right
where you don't want them to be.
Sneak preview: karma is a bitch, isn’t it?

There were misguided intentions. A unified China that would not be overrun
by foreign armies. The idea would be to create something that would last.
Grudge.

If you were tortured in order to create a country, would you end up having
a slight problem with that country? (With a laugh: understatement.) Want to stomp
on their sandcastle a bit? (Understatement.) Say, a lifetime later? Which, in our case,
with conscious reincarnation, can be a short while later. Or real time, if you want.
We were going to get tortured anyway to make that possible. But that then poses a problem.

Après nous la déluge? You would want to find out
what they are capable of.

What would be the most basic and believable part? Being able
to remember. As a tulku and a treasure finder.
And then you up the ante.

I am getting an inkling here that you may not want to
count out Grandpa here. That they didn't.

And they would be quite right about that. What would go on
in a conversation between the two of them?

Bottom line: if there is such a thing as reincarnation, we’re screwed.
So there can’t be. Can there?

There can’t be.
It is like getting them to let you assemble a “Little Boy”
right under their noses.

Though there were two of them.

Oh, it is not the country per sé. The mistake they made was
when they took something that just wasn’t theirs.
And being assholes about it.

Or, more to the point: evil bastards. It is an evil empire. To me.
Reagan vindicated. He was right about that.
That there is such a thing.
I am suddenly reminded of Robin observing that these military parades are a bit gay;).

He was talking about Hitler “with the leather and the trousers”, but still.
They did something with that. Knowing we would be reborn dealing with Hitler
and his aftermath. Or, well, we said we would be. Have you ever noticed
that quite a few of us are Jewish? Or have that somewhere
in their background? Though not me.

Oh God, he was right.
I mean, look at them!

Robin, on German TV, being asked by the German
interviewer about the Germans’ notable lack of humour:
“Did you ever think you killed all the funny people?”
Bill Maher would be another one. Yes, I see them everywhere.
(Obstinate, and sick of you. Oh, to be rid of you.)

And I like him. Bill Maher. It is not like I want to do anything with
him. So what’s the problem? You are a bit of a Calvinist,
you are. We don’t do fun, or parties.
Notice how this is one I actually do like to hear talk. He has interesting
viewpoints. And no, I don’t want to meet him personally.

Not with much hope: I mean community. That size. And
I would be the one to know, now wouldn’t I?
God, you are such a drag. (In stitches.)

Everything was in place, everything was all right… From one day to
the next. It’s our worst nightmare. If you want to terrorise your
enemy? And I am crying. Because they did something.

With what they did, you can have a relationship with me
at another level and I won’t know about it.
Not about me. With certainty: that it is to another person. Listened to with minimal
annoyance. Catchy tune. And lyrics just reviewed once more. It really isn’t.
Well, you can say what you want
But it won't change my mind
I'll feel the same
About you
And you can tell me your reasons
But it won't change my feelings
I'll feel the same
About you

It is eight lines in that song that are out of place. And it’s in the delivery.
And it is having figured out something about Michael.
Finally given up on by a two year old.
Sour: and then there is hindsight.

Little Ms. Innocent is co-ordinating something. But seems to be taking her cues
from Michael. So how much do you know? Slide seems to be a code word.
Used by Michael when directing something at me.
And that song seems to describe you. And something you wanted… Satan.
And when I get that feeling
I can no longer slide
I can no longer run
Ah no no
And when I get that feeling
I can no longer hide
For it's no longer fun
Ah no no

I only really know one person who would condescend like that. By now.
She is describing a child. Me. Your way. And with that, is hitting all the right notes.

Next move: “Will you come see how I am doing?”

Before you get heartburn: in this context. And I did.

They torture you until you lay your eyes on someone you love, and see
him as a stranger. With a view towards your next life. And then
you demonstrate it. That you are able to.
Oh, look. He got a statue out of it. They captured him well.

Last night I dreamed, the sky went black. You were lost and in trouble,
so far from home. They wanted heartbreak. And right now, I am
crying, but I couldn’t tell you what I’m crying about.

If they did something like that to someone you love, at some level, would you not want
to forge a relationship at that level and find out what they did?
Die young, leave a beautiful corpse, almost crying again here, is not him.

Michael, in Upstairs. Doggedly determined. Faceless, because in Upstairs
it is just voices, and bits of information remembered, this being one of them: making
gestures in front of me, like you would to a small child, over and over: that he is eating
something nice. Until you are going (politely): ? - “But she is watching me!” And
remembering the feeling that I did. I guess he had to try a few things.
Try that with me and it will be the last thing you will do. That kind of thing is past tense.

And they made it about being Tibetan. I’m on the move.
I have things to do. You don’t get that. Why.
We can’t stand it. Our loved ones born somewhere we don’t know about.
We go looking for them. So you use that. If you are Chen.

When I am thinking that they are nice, and that I’d like to meet them,
because they’re famous, that isn’t always how I really feel.
Or rather, there is another feeling that goes with it. A two year old one.

I find him annoying. Let’s just say I’m not all
sweetness and light. At a two year old level.
Censored. For not being socially acceptable.

We go looking for a socially acceptable translation, and stick
the knife in (pissed off): not much in common. As in:
not really their fault. Just happens. That’s life.
Now, that’s nice, isn’t it? It’s a nice way of putting it?

I’m trying here. Nope. Pissed off.
Oh god, marriages and being around them. You can put up with it
for a little while and then you need to go home, put your feet up
on the coffee table and relax for a long, long time.

It is the long time married couples who are happy to stay together
who are the worst. To be around as an adult. Too much
wanting to share married life with you.

There is just something that marriage does to the brain.
In stitches.

Attending fashion shows is a married couple activity.
(Already polite there.) The photos of which for a long time
have drawn a… polite no comment. Consciously.
It’s a celebrity activity. And that is a pregnant term.

Trained in relationships are, ehm, how shall I put it? Not that attractive?
Sweetness and light. Sweetness and light. And, she isn’t.

And it hasn’t been speaking in Ali’s favour. As your wife.
No. Nothing in common.

Observation: if it were up to me, it would just be a working relationship.
With anyone. No sharing of any kind of private life. Except for
the little bit of ‘being entertained to’ you can’t get out of.
Oops. That was a bit of sarcasm.

And then you find yourself a few friends who you can be yourself
with, who share your views on life and who know how
to make time spent hanging out enjoyable.
People who you can relax with. Who are few and far to come by.
And that’s not you.

Married people don’t do hanging out.
They don’t get that.

You haven’t been thinking to offer me ‘private time
with the Hewsons’ as a prize, have you?
Because it is not exactly coveted.
“Though I’m sure your home is lovely.” So now you know where
cool, dry and sarcastic comes from. We teach.

Why don’t you just keep living your life and we each go our separate
ways? It would be so much easier. You live a middle aged life.
You’re settled. I just disrupt things.
And I am tired of feeling like I should be apologising for it.

Let’s face it. You like the Platform, but me, I’m just not welcome.
And you know what? I can’t help that. It comes with
a price tag I can’t do anything about.
Me.

Something doesn’t sit well: it is nothing to do with
being famous. I just don’t like them.
I’m guessing I’m also not all sweetness and light at a four year old level.

And do I not now have the means to provide
that safety? So you are full of it.

I wouldn’t be a tertön? Fuck off.

If you are anything to go by, this getting together
with your loved ones is overrated.
In stitches.

About what you have been “trying to do”:
It’s called karma, stupid.

With a smile: you would lose that hand,
at this point. Is all I’m saying.

I believe that I am who I need to be to create what I am about to create.
In spite of what they did: that God created me that way. Still in
harmony with the universe. Not faulty. Not defective.
And not apologising. For anything. Certainly not for my existence.

“Seven flights of stairs. Everyone you pass, you are going: it’s me.”
It was in Robin. Imperceptible, that is. It is in most of us.

Unless you start to dig into certain subjects.
As I have just shown. Patiently. Again. A-hem!
Or start preparing for creating a Platform.

You really aren’t much fun. You could have enjoyed me being different.
He would have. He had a real love of people that you don’t have.

“I know a girl, who is like the sea. I watch her changing, everyday for me.”

No line on the horizon, no, no line…

Unknown caller. Everything I wrote to him the first time around was
uploaded to a mailbox. With a password. While he was on tour. There is
a bit of him being a tattle-tale going on here. And if you think that
this is him respecting my identity here, think again.
You’re in trouble. As an adult. The one she is to put up with.

Wryly: “Force quit and move to trash” would not be about me.
And here is me laughing again.
It almost sounds like he is on my side, doesn’t it?

“You know your name, so punch it in” would almost seem like
he would have wanted me to start writing again. And then “Hear me,
cease to speak” would hold the promise of something. If he is capable of it,
which I have come to seriously doubt. And not with me in any case.
It did the trick. Aaiyeeee! Bam-bam-bam. Why?

In stitches. Because I had a Platform to take to him.
Speechless. Lost for words.

Eyebrows raised, coolly: I’m not the wanting
to be shushed kind, in any case.
Dryly: good luck trying.

Do not get me started. “That the world couldn’t wash it away.”
I’ll have you know that is about Nelson Mandela.

What’s with the visuals with this one?

Same visuals. Suddenly, we don’t do colour. Just throat action.
Scratches head, thinking about Anton’s photography,
which is usually in black and white: for a video?
Dryly, about this kind of interest: it is like studying a species.

Inner child subtext, in a bit. But you wouldn’t know anything
about that. To have you forcing me to play the role of being crazy is one
of many reasons to want to squeeze the living daylights out of you.

Especially since if it is not you, it is mostly for your convenience.
And you want to claim you are not Tibetan? Fine by me.
It’s not wise… It’s not a smart move… But if you want to make it…

Observation, while scrolling through @atu2, about your shows:
pretty much everything you do is overdone.

And none of it got watched. Pissed off.

I don’t see you in my future, I’m sorry.

Communism and its dirty secrets. The United States had every reason to fight it.
It has come to mind many a time that to force someone like me to play
the role of a schizophrenic was meant to make your life a misery.

It is only since maybe three, four months ago that I realised that I spend
a hundred percent of my time brainwashed. As trained to be a regular person.
Schizophrenia gives me a break from that. The only one they allowed.
Dryly: minor forms of that are “being spiritual”, but you wouldn’t know
anything about that. Yes, you need a shovel for that kind of irony.

It created tears through which… I could stop hiding.
But doesn’t do much else.

“It's been said that 'Life is a dance, from one stage to the next.' If that is true,
then 'Riverdance' is an exuberant, vibrant, vivid celebration of life.”
Right.

And I wasn’t the only one they did this to. Did I say misery?
I meant sheer living hell. And I have been nice about it.

Just my sense of humour. And then he sees that as an opportunity
to do a Riverdance on your last nerve.

It’s just one of those things. In this life. Wanting to walk on the rocks of a wave breaker.
Into the sea, not a lake. Instantly recognised. And that is just at the surface. So what
do I still know about this ritual? With by now my educated guess: everything.

That boy seems twelve. Which is when I… tried to do the same. And travelled to
the beach especially for it. More than once. So it must have been important.
You interpret these things. That maybe I was missing someone. I did stand at the very tip
of that wave breaker, looking out in the sea. As if wanting to make the distance as small as
possible. But I really don’t know. Wryly: one of life’s mysteries. If you are me.

In honour of the memory of Jan Peter.

Thank you for getting me there.
Any time that I can have you back.
Whatever it takes.
And I will love to see that joy again, but this time, so much more of it.

I think I am about to move Heaven and Earth for it.
You were and always will be one of my loved ones.
Even if in this life, we didn’t meet.

Calling the sheep in for the evening, there’s a voice,
calls above the howling wind.

I’m making a home for you. Will you come find it? Because
I am crying. Still. I haven’t forgotten. You. I love you.
I have been thinking it will be in Ireland.
There is enough room there, still,
to carve out our own space.

“In stitches” and then, a few slides later, crying, with, by now,
some experience as to where that might be going:
Hmm, no. There are some games I don’t want to play any more.

A life without you is possible.
A long and happy one.

Aside from this little problem of being likely
to trip over each other here and there.
(Why, Lord, why? What did I do? I beg of you?)

You take a tracking system to him, ask him to safeguard the IP (…), (…?!), (…!!!) tell him,
the only way I could, at the time, that it wasn’t something I could trust the bank I was working
for with, reorgs, among other things, and you could save lives with it, and from there on, in
a way I have only now come to understand why, the whole thing went off track. Haywire.
Well, it went haywire from the start. Pear shaped. Past tense. But I digress.
It is about shoes, among other things, and tracking where they are produced.

There is him draped again. You could also track HIV and other life saving medication
with it, and make sure it would be delivered. That it wouldn’t disappear onto the black markets.
Aids, a cause he was already involved in (…) (…) not-saying-anything. And you can do the same
thing with food. And then interestingly, on the commercial side, there are many brands
that have a problem with counterfeiters. So they will like the system.
And I like Oprah. But would now not come anywhere near her.

It’s you in it, that’s the problem.
That, and you have been blocking my way.
For now. I’m pretty sick of you.

About this karma. And you dying. With you having been
a little accident prone. Try and look both ways when
you are crossing the road, so it’s not too soon?

You have a tendency to want to turn up stones, to see what’s
underneath them. *Scratches head* and you treat her
like one. You just might come to regret that.

I think it is time for you to meet me. In the current format,
that is. To clear up any confusion.
Be gone, Satan!

Fyoraa rise above part 1i the snake that guards the holy secret

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Fyoraa rise above part 1i the snake that guards the holy secret