My father here, with my older sister. The two of them had the stronger bond, which shows when you look at these photos. My sister, quite the Daddy’s girl. So why would it be different

with me, his second child, about to be born? Why would I need a different approach?

He didn’t know about Tibet, and had no way of knowing that what they had aimed for, was to link the most simple gestures in everyday life, to fear.

And especially, anything to do with the interaction between a father and son. The man that hurt me, mimicking those interactions.

My father, in this life, having managed to accomplish one thing: to teach me as his little girl that fathers do not have a sexual interest in their daughters.

I have started to suspect that he did so very deliberately.

It is hard to grow up with monsters under the bed, when the ones you remember were real. I was a very frightened child. My parents, unable to reassure me, for they did not know about Tibet,

they did not know about me, and they did not know there are also monsters that are real. They had no way of knowing either, why they found me, all too often, inconsolable.

But if Dad and Pap, as her Tibetan fathers, say it is alright, it is.

Except that this is a little Tibetan boy, holding his Tibetan daughter. It is me he is holding here.

Regular spider. That is not a normal way to hold a child. It is meant as a threat for anyone who sees this photo.

There is this photo that I now can’t find. I have asked my mother to go and look for it. Two years old, a portrait to be taken in the studio, and the safest place to be was in

his arms. Because he did know. He knew all that he needed to know. The crime was theirs. It was never that of my family. At this, or any other time. And

this is where I have someone muttering: “He really should be figuring these things out himself.” That he gets too much handed to him.

On to leaving him to do just that, for the rest of this presentation:

Nevertheless, and this with a loving grin: my father was, and to me will always remain “the villain with the fake French accent”. So I am introducing him.

Because we are not finished with him yet;). They have a tendency to want to be reborn into roughly the same position to do the same thing, yet again.

He can’t be my father again, which then leaves you to wonder: what will he come up with?

He was a proud man. To have a family, a wife and two daughters, and to be able to take them travelling, was his pride. On the right, that is him with my sister.

From before I was born. That is why I call her a Daddy’s girl. There are no photos of me where I am in any way, shape or form that relaxed around him. Except for this one photo,

taken at two years old. Leaning against his chest. One hand underneath his jacket.In a studio that is a scary place, but not scared. Observant eyes and just

protesting against the whole thing. The way two year olds do.

In most of these photos, I am looking at him. Except in this one. I can’t be me around him.

Because of the fear of being reported on. Which he kept going, at my request. Because you can’t have people talking about that little lama at school. Better to hide

among the masses. You can’t find me as a grain of sand. You can find me among little lamas being reported on. And without him, I would have been. For

which, by the way, he had to control everyone around me.

I had reason to believe they would be looking. Just to be on the safe side. I was trained in a specific way that made that a risk.

They wanted us to be easily found, if they ever did lose track of us. We were trained to stand out. Any which way. And we were trained to stand out as Tibetan. And

then the people in our environment, most of them, were trained to not mind.

Just for fun: though the chances of me leaving for a monastery to reach enlightenment would be pretty much nil.

A pause. A think, a decision made, somewhere not consciously, and: “Waste of time” and “What would I do there?”

Then another thought, while on a walk:

This mother. Does she have him from one controlling environment into another without even a whiff of freedom? Don’t mind, but you are going to get controlled over it.

Another thing to avoid. There was a reason I was born in the Netherlands.I did not want to be anywhere near the Tibetan community!

There was an uncle who went to court for him, but he may have planned it that way. It makes a point. We do seem to know what we are doing. Us tulkus.

If I had been reborn anywhere near the Tibetan community, I might have ended up back in some sort of monastery or Tibetan life. Because of the fear and need to blend in.

I wanted to blend into the Dutch society. And I mean: really blend in.

And then I also just wanted to be Dutch.

-As well as: Mucalinda, Muchalinda

or Mucilinda is the name of a naga

(a snake-like being), who protected the Buddha from the elements after his enlightenment.

It is said that four weeks after Śākyamuni Buddha began meditating under the Bodhi tree, the heavens darkened for seven days, and a prodigious rain descended. However, the mighty king of serpents, Mucalinda, came from beneath the earth and protected with his hood the one who is the source of all protection. When the great storm had cleared, the serpent king assumed his human form, bowed before the Buddha, and returned in joy to his palace.

I wanted to be Dutch. I’ll have to give that one to my mother. If this is a reflection of my identity, I may be not for the faint of heart.

With a grin: and she wouldn’t be Tibetan. Her mother.

There are a lot of photos like this one. Not just of me, also of my mother, my sister and my grandmother. It seems as if he would photograph you in

any mood. It is because of him that there aren’t just the usual smiling, happy family photos that don’t really tell you anything.

It is almost as if he wanted a story told. This one. About what they did. And at the same scale.

My parents would tell me about how much I cried as a baby. How they had said that their second child could never be as bad as the first. How my father had taken up smoking again, when I came around. And my father would tell a story. How while at this camping, he would take

me and carry me around on walks, at night, so that I wouldn’t keep everyone awake. I knew I felt safe then. Maybe because as long as he was there, they wouldn’t come around.

You? All you do is threaten me with monsters.

Weight of the world on my shoulders. Even that young. First you are a leader, then you are not. But they made sure that I would never be free from

that responsibility. And they linked it to the greatest fear.

If only they looked like that.

It’s a report from 2015. They seem to like to build on previous experience. Theirs or someone else’s. These kinds of things tend to not get picked up by the mainstream

media. Which suits them. And, based on experience, they know how to make sure a report like this doesn’t end up in the mainstream media.

You study your enemy.

It’s just my sense of humour. Mao was around until 1976, when I was six years old: he is quite someone to play hide and seek with.

The rest was free to be out in the open. But not to show themselves as Tibetan. Not part of the plan. Being born into Western society would do that.

And of course, I grew up with everyone out there. My father would mention Zalm. “Ik zal’m, gij zult hem.” It felt like a test if I would respond the right way.

This photo, taken in 1998, when he was about to become Finance Minister a second time, is just for fun. Because it seems to be taken for fun. He is showing off a little bit.

That is the thing with brainwashing. I could have sworn I was a child, when that went on. It is as if things are forcibly coded as timeless. Or more like forcibly out of context.

It is a moment, and you remember only that moment, and in that moment, you remember there have been other moments, and added to it, is a context

that is more felt than remembered. The feeling of being a child.

Which then confuses you. Or gives you a cue that you are to remember it a certain way. I didn’t feel safe growing up. I was safe, but I didn’t feel safe.

For people who are traumatised, it takes a lot of time to feel safe.

Meanwhile (obstinate): a CEO of ABN AMRO who is known to play video games in between meetings, a particular one that is more for boys: yeah, he is from our time.

And I have counselling available for you if you can’t handle that. (Fuck you.)

The test and the response that he was looking for, was to hide knowing him. So that would be a two year old. And then for me to then later on, looking back, remember

it this way. Brainwashing used as a way of telling me something.

I was not to know anyone in politics.

It’s a dictatorship. They find it useful to have monsters around. And they find it useful for you to know that. And if I had done something they would have decided to have an issue

with, I would have had to deal with the Aribert Heim’s or the Joseph Mengele’s of them. They had special ones reserved for someone with my status, is, what I am starting

to think, they threatened with. And no one around you was safe from them.

Aribert Heim would be the guy in the middle.

Though Chen Yun, one of the Eight Elders, looks as charming. They kind of look like Nazi’s, don’t they? They used forced labour, and those too old or too sick to work were forced

to die. And were selected to die. Just some short hand history. And yet, they are still only seen as Communists. There is a frustrating duplicity about them in the West.

Maybe because they only killed their own people. And Tibetans. In the 50-ties.When you could still get away with mass slaughter at that scale, unseen.

Deng Xiaoping would come into power in 1978, and made his decisions as part of the Eight Elders. Communists of the first hour. Keepers of secrets.

They explained that theirs wasn’t just any kind of a dictatorship. It was thàt kind of a dictatorship. As if, by then,

you wouldn’t have figured that out.

That’s him, to take a photo of you when you are this tired. He played his role as a regular spider, but he knew. To touch on my father

is to touch on one of my most deeply buried secrets.

Though the secret I have been guarding isn’t holy. The way I see it. It is theirs.

A four-foot-and-something tall Deng Xiaoping meeting with president Gerald Ford. This is one guy who doesn’t seem to be bothered about his height. (“What? I just notice these things.”)

Deng wanting to launch a market economy. No doubt to ensure the stability of the party.Which is handily part of their doctrine. And for which he needed the West.

Yeah, that would have been inconvenient.

It doesn’t matter if the cat is black or white, as long as it catches mice. And you can do with one more dead cat. If it is an inconvenient one. Men like

Deng make these kinds of decisions. It is kind of like the Mafia.

Smiling about the subtext and leaving it in. You being like Deng. All for making it as hard as possible for you. Searching the web, about Chinese leaders: I love when they’re called politicians.

For tulkus to emerge like that, also one in Australia that I remember, makes a point: the secret is going to come out eventually.

But it would take time for them to get used to the idea. Until then: peek-a-boo!

But for their secret to come out eventually may only be in ten, fifteen, twenty years from now. And with China gearing up to become

a super power, it would still be inconvenient.

And then there are other reasons why they would know that I would be a threat.

Would there be some thinking behind the way they present themselves? It is the way that they have a president or prime minister, or whatever they call him,

with his own first lady. And here is me with a blast from the past.

You, not his wife.

It is still old school socialism to me.

And another blast from the past. Now they wouldn’t have learned anything from the Russians. But they wanted it to remain undetected, so to get as close to the real thing

as possible. Would they be using “political monomania” here for a reason? Instead of a more regular diagnosis? It is repression. And when you want to have a choice about whether or

not to use repression, then you hide it. How you really want to treat their former elite.

You can understand the attraction. The thinking behind it. Anyone who is dissident would just get hand delivered to them. Though that is not quite what they did.

As just a slight intermission: what part of “let go of me” did you not get?

And you can cover all sorts of sins under ‘war victim’. When it is abuses the current authorities have had nothing to do with. And war victims tend to go a bit “off”, mentally.

But then, so too do those who are more spiritual by nature. It’s all very handy.

Now how to keep that in place?

They had a way to solve any succession problems. While climbing to the top, there would be a test to see if you were corruptible.

Is, how they explained, their organisation worked.

Bottom line: whoever ended up at the top could not be trusted. And another smile.

You wouldn’t like that laugh.

And another can of Bono-be-gone. Shake-shake!

My mother and my sister. My father’s treasure. In the car he could afford, thank you very much.

You can imagine that it isn’t all that reassuring if your family is not consciously aware that there is this Chinese dictatorship with a rat’s

nest of psychopaths that would have reason to look for you.

He gave me a nice, stable childhood. I was miserable most of the time, but that wasn’t their fault. And I will tell you something else. He handled it. All of my life. Me being me.

Not as who I was hiding. Me being me. He didn’t treat it as an inconvenience.

I was his daughter.

What we would call in the Netherlands ‘an obligatory number’.These days my hair is half long, the bangs are gone, and you couldn’t get me

into a skirt if you paid me. But the clematis in the background is about to make a re-entrance. In my garden. Because it was his. Consciously and very

deliberately. The way I have always been, with these things.

Grumble. Pissed off.

My father had unknown depths, that he took with him into the grave. There was a vulnerability there. Also a bit of posturing going on there. He was

a dreamer. He was an office man. Accomplished. As we say in the Netherlands: you could draw him in a suit. I will love having

him around again. Living his dreams. Up to no good.

Though not exactly as my father, mind you;). I’d have to admit, there is a little bit of: ‘fingers crossed, a little distance goes a long way’ there.

Now if I am right about this, and of course, I can’t be, the one he prepared me for, was you. Because it was the villainous thing to do;). Equally height challenged, more of a

stocky build. If you were to take this photo of me at eight years old, and compare it to the one one slide back, you would see the same wall paper. He would have been as old as I am now,

maybe one year younger. And he may have asked my mother to take that photo. Portrait photography would have been en vogue. They still had dreams then.

Or photography was a cover. I remember it as one of his hobbies.

My father as a regular spider would have been more for getting at my freedom, the way he was trained. I may have picked my mother because she would be a match for him and remind him that we don’t do that. Though with him, there was a bond.

I was his daughter. You? You want to cut off wings and put in a box. And it is that brutal. I am starting to think that this singing of yours is to hide

that you are not exactly Mr. Sensitivity.

“You’re the reason why-y-y-y I’m still dis-so-cia-ting,”

It had to be the most expensive equipment. *Cough*

*Cough* Zooropa. *Cough* Would I be on to something here?

That would be: the most expensive equipment of anyone in the house. You outdo your loved ones. The highest quality. The most exclusive…Anything less just wouldn’t do,

honestly…And then it is only with some things. So it draws the attention.

Why is your daughter banned from using your New York apartment? While she is in her twenties and might have shown herself able to handle it?

Or would that have been the problem? It is control over resources. And if the other person is able to handle resources, there is

no need to control them with resources, now is there?

I dare you: try and proclaim innocence on that one.

My heart will sing, when I will know that he is reborn. Do you remember? Because I remember. What it is like to lay your eyes on someone, and know that they have been reborn. My loved ones are my treasure. But my heart will sing,

mainly, because he will be reborn somewhere where it will be safe.

And you complain about being in the same category? Alright then.

I do get stressed, whenever I have to do something that is linked to my identity. And I may, at some point, even without any ‘help’ in that department, find myself

having trouble with that again. You never know. I will have a lot coming at me. But I will be handling my own finances for now, thank you.

Dryly: in the interest of world peace, and all that. I mean, you really can’t afford to lose any inches of height, now can you?

I’m sorry, but you waste time like no other. It has been a year now since my father died. I don’t want him to be reborn elsewhere. And if it were to depend

on you, that might happen. And he is not the only one I am worried about. And Peaches. With what they did to us, it needs to be somewhere special for them to feel safe.

Which is why I can’t wait for you. I have loved ones out there. I want them home. It’s Tibetan. It is what we did.

At least, it is what I will still be doing.

Arghhh!!! What do you think those monasteries were for? It is to have all of your loved ones in one place, and to have them feel safe. Where you can give them

that reassurance, because you are able to keep them safe. So I do not come with a hold button, and I haven’t been waiting. Two here.

And therefore: 44, eight, ten, twelve and four.Introducing my spokesperson:

So, I’m sorry, but (dark tones): ‘Ted’ is about to be eliminated. He needs to go.

I am one here. It is my first birthday. Up to my old tricks: Jan Peter tried to warn you.

(Obstinate:) Because I do have him around. Why would he not be? He died.

The way I have Jan Peter around, when she allows him to be, is different. Still based on what they did, but different.

And he was starting to do a pretty good job wooing a little two year old. Until he got sent off. Can’t be around me, or her,

while working. They might harm him. And then even in spirit, she doesn’t dare have him around. But then, with him using what they did, he would have

been around me physically. “Dead”, but not really dead.

What do you want from me? They were twisted. And she really is inconsolable.

Same with Michael. But then, they were also keen to even train in what would have to be your response to a loved one dying. Or to being without them. Or to losing

them before you can get to them. Even in death, to her, loved ones aren’t safe. Can you imagine, having them reborn in a Communist dictatorship? Or

anywhere else, with what they did? As who they are? And Karma!

They would have trained something in about it. For damned sure. Although, after four years of writing about this, and counting, you can’t seem to be.

Yet, I can’t think or talk about either one of them without crying. And that emotion is very real. And then knowing about what they did

and what they used: it would have been more effective in their view if, underneath, they really are your loved ones. More reliable.

Which is what they wanted. But you don’t want to hear that. Rebelling, through me: she can stay at the surface. They had her able to. And then she can go anywhere.

If there is a process that is theirs, and you are not supposed to be Tibetan, and you are not supposed to have been brainwashed, then any information that is

to do with this process has to come from another source: Upstairs. Hence “guidance from above” which isn’t really guidance, it is me. Some of it is still going on in the form

of dissociation. There is information about this process that I don’t have access to.

The difference is that I know it is me. And the nature of this information is changing. More and more, it is starting to be replaced with something else: experience.

They were keen to have certain information on my conscious mind, even if it is in code. Ali was in ‘Upstairs’ as someone who can be got at. Message decoded.

It is something to do with me writing to you about her. Same thing with Billy. Michael was in ‘Upstairs’ because he would have been alive, back then.

Jan Peter wasn’t, when he was alive, because he was safe then.

But even with that kind of safe, he would still have been at risk. To their rules.

Coolly: I am not as impressed by something like that, as you think I am. At any level. I can very easily do without it. As for this writing to you: they did fake spiritual.

You de-traumatise. You realise you no longer need to do that.

That part is not a 100% complete, but I am getting there. Or have you seen me “picking up on your responses”? To something I had written to you? That’s past tense,

and this, by my count, since well over two years ago. It was the first to go.

Obstinate: Bob was never in ‘Upstairs’ and never would be. As her spokesperson: when meeting him for the first time, it would be as someone you don’t know,

but with whom you find yourself having a rapport. That is all she wants.

And oh, you are not popular. Done asking you for anything. Plotting: and I can get him for her, without you.

You were never in ‘Upstairs’ and you never will be. You got featured briefly, but that was more of an ‘obligatory number’. It is also about “information”, knowledge that you have, which you are only allowed to access as if from a different source. And

then later, you are to look back on it, and it will be the key to understanding something. About what they did. A bit of confirmation. Same with Billy.

They used processes. They trained them in. And if and when it seems as if I am being controlled, that would be because this is their process

and how they designed it to be: cruel, toxic and maddening.And to a certain extent, they made that necessary.

But then you would know about that. Because you have been exploiting one of them.This one is finally past tense and it took me forever. It’s not for lack of trying.

The disk profile was an instruction. To our tulkus, to be taken into their next life. By my estimation: a double one. Something similar to the Disk was used by them. So to

develop it, in this life, is one. And then to have it taught in the organisation I was working with at the time, was another.

There were those in the whole of that organisation who needed it. But again: you don’t want to hear that. That I am anything but alone.

By the way, with the damage you did over ‘Upstairs’ and resources: hell will freeze over before I will ever accept a dime from you. Or advice.

Or help. And again: I am not alone. I have never had any problem finding help with what I do. And I will again. You think the Platform

happened overnight? And that it just happened?

But it seems we have a mutual problem.

Information as if coming from a different source: our tulkus. And then a little while later: they co-ordinated things. Our tulkus, as in: from different monasteries.

She is not always sure about these things. Because you force her to be. And then, brilliantly, you have managed to threaten her over what she has finally

come to feel safe enough to be sure about. She is Tibetan.

You want a warning? About how to deal with her? Considering she is supposed to be dangerous and all that?

Here you go: vindictive when forced.

Still want that part of ‘Upstairs’ covered?

Which means that you are either Tibetan, or you are a cruel, sick son-of-a-bitch against which my father pales in comparison. Because he was never cruel,

except for the garden variety. As a matter of fact: my father couldn’t hold a candle to your cruelty. And yet, never once, have I held your behaviour against you.

As trained in. Hasn’t your conscience been bothering you? Or else, where does me being dangerous come from?

They made cruelty necessary. With him, it was at least part protection. I’m not so sure about you. Teacher mode: with the suggestion to look back at slide 5.

A lot of what you so nicely dubbed an obsession, this second time, has been me trying to figure out why I got dragged off to you the first time. And since about last November,

even before, it has been about not getting dragged off to you a third time. Because you know, your life improves and you want to keep that. I have inner children. They tend to do

that. Drag me off to you. The two questions therefore are: what is it they did and for what purpose, and why do these children want to?

Trust me, I will get there. And what do you know, I have an answer to that first one.

This picking up on your responses to what I have written to you was to keep me in place, and heading in your direction. It is designed mainly as a distraction. It was also to get me to imagine

relating to you, and to sell to me that that might be nice. But even then, it is mainly through inner children. And I am starting to wonder whether that kind of thing is meant for you to be able to pick up on my responses. Because my response to ‘Teacher mode’ would be that I don’t want

you coming into my life in any kind of role. Or at all. And that would then be information for you. As for if you had anything to teach me: of late, every word that

comes out of your mouth, or even in writing, is obnoxious to me.

I barely made it through your TED talk. Meanwhile…

A lot about this process has kept uncertainty going for me, about whether you will be in my life or not. And now with you forcing me, and with it, it seems, where

you are concerned, certain that you will be in my life: I do not have a suicidal bone in my body, and I have the Platform to work on, but that prospect is enough to have

you looking for a noose and the nearest tree. Kill me, kill me now.

I’m guessing you being unpopular was a bit of an understatement.

You never really did get my sense of humour, did you? Supposedly? If you are Tibetan, then same as with me, there is this little one, and I would

never leave him alone, isolated and scared. And coming to get him was a promise, the way that I did. So he gets a chance to become involved.

But even for him, I am not up for grabs. And you need to give me some space here. As you can tell, I am not quite ready for the adult variety.

What is there to love? About a controlling-you-at-a-distance, toxic asshole?

And this is old news.

I’m stuck with you, she says sadly. Until I can sort this out.

Has it ever occurred to you that to first lock her in and then come into her life is the wrong order of things? She has only had people in her life

where she has felt free about whether or not to still relate to them in the future. It has been her way of life. They tortured it in, to want that kind

of freedom. About relating. They tortured everything in.I even feel that way with family. It is not normal.

There is no bond for you to count or rely on. This little one, maybe, but if you are not Tibetan? Which I am more than happy to consider.

You want to sashay into my life as Bono? As someone to work with, that I can’t get away from? Kill me, kill me now.

And why should you be the norm of anything? How she responds to you? Coolly: you would need help, when approaching someone like Ban-Ki-Moon, but that will be

available. When it is time. It is a concept. It will be developed. And it will travel.

Bob might be able to convince her. That if she stopped relating to him in the future, that would hurt him. He would have to do so very gently.

And he would have to be sincere. It has been her way of life.

Now Bob would get that. That she doesn’t have to.

Bob wouldn’t need to come into my life in any kind of role. The way I understand it, you do. You were trained differently. So you get offered inner children. Until

it is nau-se-ating. And with Bob, it would just be: Hi.

Sourly: hence the 150 pounds. And the schlepping. And the past four years.

It is a process and it is designed to draw you back in. And then you get the previous slides. It doesn’t mean that I don’t have my own opinion about it. About you. And I can take it or leave it. I have reached the point where I can now make a start. And to continue with this process has become an option.

I will give you a dubious compliment. You have shown yourself quite astute when it comes to picking little clues and hints. There is one in this photo.

Yeah, that isn’t going to happen.

I remember what Bob is like. As me. I have been hiding that from myself.I still won’t ask you for him, and it will still not be on your terms.

And I won’t need a process to get him. Or you.

But I trust him. And he would have influence on me. About you, most likely, she says sourly. Here is the punch line: like that isn’t a subject I’m sick of.

Not about to give an inch on the subject matter of whether or not she knows you:

I already have enough reason to take out a restraining order against you. All that is needed is a lawyer and a shrink who will play ball, and it would be within

two to three months. I can stop at: “And he used my mother.”

It puts a lot of pressure on Richard. This restraining order is to stop you from interfering with any work. It puts a cordon around it. You are not to come anywhere near.

Again, about what you have been “trying to do”: like I am going to give away what I have on you, you dumb fucking asshole.

That’s what he is for.

If you want to know, that is. Before it goes to court. And about that one (Adrian): mèh. Not for her. Depends on whether he can handle her.

(Slightly unhappy:) have yet to meet anyone who can.

It isn’t who you are, or what you do that counts, it is how you treat me. And in a professional, impersonal sense, about what you would be able to do for

the Platform: ask the average person in the street and they will agree with me: you have been more trouble than you are worth.

You wanted a non-Tibetan perspective? The kind you have been forcing on me? There you go. I have been keeping one going all along.

As for the personal side, in so far that we have developed a relationship, if you can even call it that: with what I have developed, I may very well end up working with a few people who know you. Either very well, or they have met you here and there. It would get quite

quickly to where there are contacts, once removed, me with my feeble mind. Don’t worry, it won’t have me come to find you. Here is why.

The stories you and your band members tell, about your childhoods: there is a bit of marketing in there. It is off-putting. And undoubtedly: you.

One part of this process is that if I were to find something like the Platform, I was to take it to you. One person. And that could have been anyone. It could have

been the baker in the street. And then train in anything about him. That he is the love of your life. And that is to sabotage it. Make sure it takes a long time. That it doesn’t

even happen. They were the original ones who wanted us to be neither seen nor heard. As Bono, you are like that baker to me. Nothing about you,

or your contacts or your influence is attractive to me, I’m sorry.

It is the ‘love of my life’, ‘twin’, that’s the problem. By the way: I will have my own husband.

They used torture. And once they have been at it long enough, you are no longer that discerning. I have this little one who seems to think she knows you.

That there is this previous relationship there. I can get to the bottom of it, or I can suppress it and hope it will hold.

And it would, for, say, six months to a year, easily. An option coming up.