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.

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

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 betsare 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”.

The 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.

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.

‘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.

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 wantBut it won't change my mind

I'll feel the sameAbout you

And you can tell me your reasonsBut it won't change my feelings

I'll feel the sameAbout you

“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.

With their treasure finder.

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.

Point.

“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.

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.

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'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 tipof 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!