tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84816730379064129552024-03-11T21:53:24.431-07:00MkUltra Survivorsurvivorship, determination, success, faith, sufism, art, writers, poets, spirituality, hope, joy, prayer, truth, social justice, human rights, peace, thinkers, doers, humanitarians, Mk-Ultra, sacredness, meditation, visionsruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-28376857320397393142022-03-06T13:46:00.000-08:002022-03-06T13:46:21.264-08:00The Audacity of Arrogance Sura 34:38<div>Those who strive against Our Signs, to frustrate them, will be given over into Chastisement.</div><div><br /></div><div>When a person or a community of people experiences systemic exploitations which too often are justified within the pretentious clock of patriotism, rather realized or not, they are not alone. </div><div><br /></div><div>A squash insect reduces the potency of its species' purpose. ""The earthworm has an important role in the ecosystem through enhancing decomposition of soils. The honey bees cross-pollination are essential for </div><div>the germination of plants, (pthomeandgarden.com)." The magnificent and exceptional contributions given to the sustainability of humankind by such minute creatures as earthworms and honey bees are undeniable, consequently how can the dignity and purpose of even one human being be dimensions, dissipated or ignored under the umbrella of governmental self-interest. </div><div><br /></div><div>While a visitor at a mosque in Birmingham, England, the Imam made a statement which was significantly impacted by the path of supplication. The cleric mention that it is selfish to pray only for ourselves. When us finite, healing human beings, enter into prayer often our emotional scars are being felt. We go into prayer asking our Creator for comfort, guidance and strength. When an individual has suffered excruciating physical and emotional pain, often these experiences are endured alone. Therein, it is understandable that a request for help would travel a singular path. I never prior to Birmingham considered my prayers non-inclusive or shallow. Yet, now, when I submit my invocations, the Uighurs of China are included, the suffering Muslims of India, the innocent inmates of Guantanamo Bay, the raped victim, the neglected and abused child, the homeless, the misunderstood mentally ill. the multitudes not mentions here and those unknown to me are included now in my prayers.</div><div><br /></div><div>Almighty Source, we humbly implore You to manifest Your Compassion, Kindness, Mercy and Healing Powers upon the suffering masses within humankind. Magnify Your powerful Graces whereas they may be experienced. felt, realized and absorbed. .</div><div><br /></div><div>I respectfully request Your Guidance and Clarity from the bewildered state which hinders my spiritual energy while stagnating my hope. The unhealed mental and emotional lacerations suffocate. I don't remember my biological mother's name but I remember the coercive words when shown a picture of my mother contained in a family heirloom locket, "if you tell we will kill your mother." </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-18956069492965627862022-03-06T13:39:00.000-08:002022-03-06T13:39:03.266-08:00The Invisible Unknown<p> Sura 113:1:5 "I seek refuge in the Lord of daybreak. And from the evil of the envious one when he envies."</p><p>Humanity is entangled within an invisible unknown which is siphoning intellectual, spiritual, and psychological vitality. The arrogant entity which cannot create anything is attempting to control everything. The Magnificent, the Volume which has no beginning nor end; is either being commercialized, or minimized in modern day madness. Wealth, power, yachts, greed, all the things the self-assumed hoarders ravish and collect; end in massive wads of nothingness full of emptiness, as these material things do not fit in a grave,</p><p>I recently attended a tribute to the Persian poet Jalal-al-Din Muhammad Rumi. One of the distinguished guest speakers surprisingly knew who I was. When the informative lectures ended,the Middle Eastern gentleman knew who I was walking up to me advising that I should write on my blog more often.</p><p>I did not immediately take his advice but weeks later when I was approached by a reporter for an interview, I realized that there is an interest in my story. I put in an email to a friend a few days ago that a survivor, a person who has been exploited should not go silently into their own humiliation and destruction: but instead, they should scream, yell, making a great deal of noise regarding the injustice they have been subjected. </p>ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-7799901522804940792022-02-18T11:13:00.002-08:002022-02-18T11:20:12.635-08:00Healing Focused Memories<p> Today is February 18th, 2022 and I am currently chronicling as many positive events as I can recall, The event I decided to start with will be those involving nature. It is my intention to allow this venture to aid in my healing from many past traumas. Prior to this point, I have been writing these memories in a journal. I have also used notebooks. The trouble with these methods is that journals get misplaced and notebooks seem too impersonal. </p><p>Since, I have rightly written down many of the traumatic things inflicted on me in my past, I want to rejuvenate as much as possible in bringing to mind the healing power of nature. On Wednesday, of this week, following a physical therapy appointment I went for a massage, The massage location I selected is in the same mall as the therapist. Wednesday was my second visit to this particular massage parlor and the experience was not as rewarding as my first. In the same area there is another massage parlor which also offers: facials, manicures, pedicures, and has a much more impressive facade. I had passed this parlor up reasoning that it would be much more expensive than the one previously chosen. Yet because I was displeased with the received massage, I decided to inquire about the prices of the second place.</p><p>The second location had much more room and staff. The person who approached me spoke little English but he did get his point across. Since I had just received a massage, I only wanted a price he stated that the person who gives the massages would tell me, I told him that I would return next week and left the parlor. Leaving there, I went for coffee and when returning to the place where I would be picked up by the ride service I used, again I passed the day spa and on the second trip I took notice of some Aloe Vera plants seated near the spa"s interior window. I entered the spa for the second time and asked if I could take a picture of the plants. Smiling widely, one of the technicians said a friendly, "yes." As I used my iPhone to take a few photos of the plants another technician came up and started a conversation about the plants. She like the gentlemen who had greeted me earlier, the ladies English was challenging to understand.</p><p>Well, I took a few photos of the Aloe Vera plants and realized as I compared the photos to the Aloe Vera plant that I had at home that I had captured part of the Wednesday February 16th, 2022 forever. The interactions between myself the staff at the spa and the prickly plants were now apart of my focused positive memories. </p>ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-84230832860278198802021-08-03T15:30:00.000-07:002021-08-03T15:30:01.539-07:00Badgered<p> Sura 55:13 Then which of the favours of your Lord will ye deny</p><p>As a Mk-Ultra survivor I often contemplate or question if an action of mine is due too having injuries resulting from the treatments of an governmental experimentation object or if my behavioral action are projections of who I am innately. This may be an contradiction in terms but without having an expert in the behavioral to consult, I am at a considerable disadvantage. </p><p>Currently, I am living with my daughter and her two children ages six and thirteen> Last weekend they went away for a weekend trip. While they were gone, I took the quiet time and completely cleaned several rooms of the house the kitchen being one of focus. Daily cleaning does not address the cleaning of the refrigerator, mopping the floor, arranging the spices in the rack and other chores not address daily. When my daughter and her children returned Monday evening I had already retired for the day. When I got up on Tuesday morning I went into the kitchen to make my morning coffee, finding on my arrival dishes with unfinished food on plates left on the kitchen table and counters. Dished in the sink where there were none the night before and other items of disarray.</p><p>Recently, I have been having problems with high blood pressure. My daughter had to take me to an emergency service facility just a week or so ago so she is very well aware of my health concerns yet the common courtesy of making sure the kitchen remained in the state in which it was found was not adhered. </p><p>Too often, I let such action go unvoiced by me. I know in doing this I do both my daughter and myself a great injustice. The little of the behavior I remember of myself prior to unnecessary electric shock treatments and other unknow medical horrors, I did not allow myself to be trampled upon. I think I respect and value who I am but that fact could be proven by my behavior where acceptance of rude and cruel behaviors of others is concerned. I attempted to address my suppressed memories and other issues of MK-Ultra injuries with a medical person. I hesitate to say medical professional as that fact was unseen by me. What I encountered rather than a knowledgeable compassionate professional was an arrogant, presumptuous individual whose piece of paper otherwise call a diploma made his too quick to make diagnosis acceptable. I was informed by this pharmaceutical employee that if I would not go on medication that he would not accept me as a patient. How horrifying is the double exploitation. How unbelievably cruel. </p>ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-50631331820687102502021-05-11T19:57:00.000-07:002021-05-11T19:57:14.320-07:00The Serrated Stone of Lost BelongingSura:94: The Expansion<br />
<br />
Have We not expended for you your breast,<br />
And eased you of burden,<br />
Which weighed so heavily on your,<br />
back?<br />
And have We not exalted for you<br />
your renown?<br />
Then surely with hardship comes<br />
ease.<br />
Surely with hardship comes ease.<br />
Therefore, when you are free from one task, resume another task.<br />
Ans seek and strive to please your<br />
Lord.<br />
<br />
I have neglected posting on this blog and consequently therein also neglected variant components of self. As a survivor, the necessity of externalizing penned emotions is crucial in order to heal. When repetitive thoughts of the perpetrators' abuses are the dominant focus of your day too much positive energy is drained from the body, the mind and the day; consequently again yielding control of ones' vibrancy to the perpetrator. When you walk pass a beautiful flower and the sight and scent of one of nature's most magnificent wonders goes unnoticed the survivors is denying self. As I stated in an earlier post, I am going to start putting excerpts from my novel in this post. It is still very emotional for me to edit and read some of my novel which can invokes unhealed traumas. Nevertheless, stagnation suffocates the ability to move forward and live a full and productive life. Sometimes, painful emotions emerge more when I read my journal writings consequently, personally, giving life to the words of my novel. In any event one page of the novel follows. I am not going to give an explanation or set-up the page. The words and action on the page should convey the essence in themselves. Here it goes:<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice Page 19 </i><br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> The next time Aleah awaken, the horrid incident which involved the broken soda bottle intentionally placed in her running path did not come to mind. Rather, on this morning which was presumed to have followed the previous night, the first lingered thought to penetrate the spirit of this forlorn child was the image of a pair of pink shippers.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Within the first few seconds of predawn, Aleah momentarily felt herself cloistered in the stabilizing security of her own loving family. Maintained temporarily with the emerging backdrop of early morn was interlaced her true identity. While clutch in the subconscious jewels of semi-alertness, the gentle child remembered the experience of receiving parental care. Cradled within the mystical arms of the sacrosanctity of initial light, there was no reason to yearn for the sound of her mother's voice. The first rays of daylight had not yet awaken the harsh trauma of her abduction. At this early hour, loneliness did not hover like pernicious smoke nor did the serrated stone of lost belongings.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Yawning in a mantle of sleepiness, Aleah released an inward howl, mother, mother was the repeated mental cry. Then, like an abrupt surge of noxious fumes, she became suddenly awareness that in this place of barren walls and rug less floors, there would be no pink slippers.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Yet for a moment while wavering between flexing states, Aleah awaited her mother's strong embrace and loving smile. During these precious semi-lucid seconds, Aleah remembered her mother's mimicking gestures as she imitated her child's every stretch and yawn.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>"From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice." Page 20</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Aleah attempting to maintain her nurturing memories produced mental archives of the past. Unlike sticky cotton candy or melting chocolate, her cherished memories instilled more than temporary pleasures,. Indeed, these priceless recollections developed into an inexplicable of emotional safety for this captured child.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> In the earliest period of predawn, Aleah did not suffer the affects of the captors' rudeness nor were her every actions critically scrutinized. </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> Unfortunately, for Aleah the mornings of private moments were very rare. Often sleeping past dawn her mornings would begin with intrusions into the room where she slept. A door kicked opened, books intentionally dropped, balls repeatedly bounced, paper bags exploring, balloons loud popped, dresser drawers opening and closing, these were the sounds which introduced her to a new day. </i><br />
<i> Giggles and snickers from the children of the household would soon follow, "Wow, whatever those men give that girl to make her sleep like that must really be strong. How can she not wake up after all that noise?"</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i> "Did her eye balls move any while we were making so much noise? One of the children asked. "The men said we are to see if her eye balls move any while we are making noise. When her eyes are closed if there is movement under the closed lids, she might be waking up". </i><br />
<br />
<br />
Today is June 12th, 2020, seventeen days after the death of an unarmed Black Afro-American man at the hands of four Minnesota police officers. George Floyd is the name of the man who pleaded for his life while his hands were handcuffed behind his back, laying on the unsanitary concrete ground with one of the four police officers' knee on his air way; causing asphyxiation and of course death.<br />
<br />
I haven't previously posted news events on this site but the horrid criminal death of this father, this brother, this friend deserves acknowledgement. <br />
<br />
When an ideology, a philosophy, a creed, a powerful political self-interest usurps the value and identity of a single individual the whole of humanity is weakened. As a survivor of an ideology whose political self- interest justified the dissipation of my civil rights, my human rights, my legal rights, my spiritual rights, and my sacred footprint, it is impossible for me to comprehend how it is not understood that when a butterfly flaps it's wings in China the vibrations reach New York. <br />
<br />
<br />
<i>From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice Page 24</i><br />
<br />
An amateur harpsichordist, Aleah's mother played and listened to music throughout the day. Yet, when she woke that fact was not recalled. The evenings in her home were often filled with her father's musical passion that being classical Spanish guitar. Ravel's rendition of Bolero was practically a daily experience in this home where music seemed as essential as linen table napkins and freshly cut flowers.<br />
<br />
No, instead, in this forcefully transplanted existence, there were no sounds of classical music, no sharing of pomegranates, nor the scents of sachets of potpourri contained within every opened bureau drawer. <br />
<br />
As her petite legs continued to dangle between mattress and floor, again she realized there were no slippers, Aleah placed her bare feet on the cold uncovered floor.<br />
<br />
<br />ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-20043286177058319992018-10-02T14:24:00.001-07:002018-10-02T14:24:36.867-07:00Astonishment Qur'an Sura18:105<br />
<br />
They are those who deny<br />
The Signs of their Lord<br />
And the fact of their<br />
Having to meet Him<br />
'vain will be their works,<br />
Nor shall We, on the Day<br />
Of Judgment, give the<br />
Any Weight.<br />
<br />
Note 2451<br />
False motives, pretense, deception and hypocrisy, flourish because people do not take the higher life seriously. In effect they treat it s jest. Signs and Messengers are sent as a special and personal Mercy from God.<br />
<br />
The few follower I have suggested that I post on my blog more often. I completely agree with this urging and have decided only to place excerpt from my novel on this site but also excerpt from my journals. As I travel through my thoughts and mood via my journals, we shall learn together the honesty of unfiltered introspective.<br />
<br />
September 9th, 2009<br />
<br />
Today once again I am taking action where it comes to facing the tragedies of my life. I am on my way to England where I pray I will be able to get legal and medical assistance. As I am packing, unpacking and repacking. I make sure that I have the phone number of the medical facility the helps survivors of torture. It amazes me how the causes of today's global unrest are not tracked to their roots. Instilled within the properties of societal manipulation are hatred, racism, classicism, and a multitude of lurid and diabolical projects such as Mk-Ultra. ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-1682260959320604552018-08-22T16:00:00.000-07:002018-08-22T16:00:36.906-07:00ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-80474866510791450702016-10-19T12:31:00.000-07:002016-10-19T12:31:36.279-07:00The invisibility of Injustice "The difficulties of winter and autumn, <br />
the heat of summer,<br />
spring like the spirit of life,<br />
winds, and clouds and the lightening-all these<br />
help to make distinctions clear:<br />
so the dust-colored earth<br />
may bring forth all it holds in its heart,<br />
whether ruby or dull stone."<br />
Written by Jula'lu'ddin Ru'mi'<br />
<br />
I may have used this quote by Rumi prior in this blog but the contents of this saying in my perspective is so profound that a repeat performance is apropos. I titled this post: (The Invisibility of Injustice), which in many ways appears to be factual. For example, in recent years, due to the development of the technology of modern DNA testing, a substantial number of men have been released from years of wrongful incarceration having been proven innocent of rape charges as a outcome of DNA testing.<br />
<br />
If one were to endeavor to collect the data which would document the number of men proven innocent and then released from prison, Then, too collectively calculate the number of years these men spend away from freedom, the invisibility of injustice could at least begin to take on a statistical formation. <br />
<br />
Today, October nineteenth two thousand sixteen, I had an appointment with a doctor for the purpose and hope that he could medically help me regain my memory. In the session, I briefly explained why I was seeking his assistance and what I wanted from the sessions. <br />
<br />
This blog has been a method for me to expose what has happened to me and for me to release some of the internal emotions which have for too long been pinned. After this first session, I think that what the intake doctor suggested, that frequent visit with a profession therapist would be of benefit where recovering my memory is concerned.<br />
<br />
I was a little unsettled when I first left the doctor's office. I felt disoriented, having to concentrate on my surroundings so that I wouldn't walk into things. My first stop once leaving the office was to Starbucks. I visit this particular Starbucks often, although most of the time I go through the drive-through. Today, I decided that I needed the short walk from my car to the interior of the coffee shop as I needed to become more grounded. Oddly, my first thought when I entered the building is that it somehow looked different. I asked the person who took my order had they done something new to the place. She looked confused since I had seen her only a few days prior. She never really answered me but I know that nothing new had been added to the place nor had anything been taken away. This same frequently visited establishment looked fresher, wider, brighter.<br />
<br />
I will of course continue my sessions even though at this moment I feel like someone is using a old model can-opener with its serrated invasion onto the exterior and interior of my being. Mentally, I can see the pointed sharp blade of the opener piercing the thin tin can with the objective of getting to the contents within the can. The razor jagged wedges are dangerous to the touch but essential for releasing the what is within the can.<br />
<br />
Injustice itself can not been seen by the naked eye, yet its effects upon society become more visible each day. <br />
<br />
As I prepare myself to undertake possibly one of the most difficult ventures of my life, I pray that the ultimate success brings hope and peace to others as well.<br />
<br />
ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-15723684136293734392016-06-21T09:07:00.000-07:002016-06-21T09:07:20.821-07:00The Stolen Diary <b><i>With Him are the keys of the Unseen, the treasures that none knows but He. He knows whatever there is on the earth and in the sea. Not a leaf does fall but with His knowledge; there is not a grain in the darkness of the earth, nor anything fresh or dry but is in a Record clear. It is He who does take your soul by night, and has knowledge of all that you have done by day; by day does He raise you up again; that a term appointed be fulfilled; in the end unto Him will be your return; then will He show you the truth of all that you did. </i></b><br />
<b><i>Noble Qur'an Vl:59-60</i></b><br />
<br />
<br />
The techniques implemented to traumatized a Mk-Ultra subject especially when the subject is a child transmit long lasting effect upon the survivor. Mental constrictions occur when one attempts to remember an event so horrifying that in the moment of the event a mental showdown cloaks the piercing reality. Once clothed in a state of emotional shock reality's perception becomes distorted leaving specific details of a situation wavy, blurred, nauseating.<br />
<br />
Did Freddie Mae, run to the address of 4719 Kensington Place that day, or did she walk? I think the fear on my face may have caused her to run. How soon after her sprint did I enter the house. How could she? I pondered as I snailed my way to the house? After all the difficult she and her husband experienced prior to having a full termed birth. After all, the baby is only three month.<br />
<br />
Faith? How far can it take us? Freddie Mae's belief and desire for a child propelled her into an action which was most definitely a leap. She had a discussion with her minister. She made the decision that she should respect his advise. She crossed the street one summer day grabbed my arm and stated, "Don't be afraid. Don't think me stupid or foolish. This is what my pastor told me to do and at this point, I have nothing to loose and so much to gain. My pastor told me to touch some part of your body and to pray" Nine months or near the ninth month later a healthy baby girl was born this is wanting couple. Some three months after the birth the child was murdered. A statement was made prior to the diabolical act that they did not want anyone with any spiritual acumen to have a positive high profile in that decade or for decades to come. One of the consequences of this sinister decision was the killing of a child. The child seem a easy sacrifice for the Lucifer agenda.<br />
<br />
When I arrived at the location of 4719 Kensington Place the day when Freddie Mae grabbed my arm and prayed, I did place the state of my confusing and hopes in a journal, a diary, a sheet of loose leaf, or a ripped page from a spiral. With there being no one in my life I could talk with concerning the spiritual phenomena, supernatural activities, or whatever the appropriate word or phrase needed to describe the valuable and venerable position, I as a child had been placed; I had to turn to expressing my felling in writings.<br />
<br />
Once I arrive in the house on the day Freddie and Luther child viciously murdered, I remember seeing Freddie pleading with someone not to hurt her child. Two men both member of organized crime attempted with powerful physical force to cause me to puncture the soft spot in the infant's head. One of the men grabbed my wrist while pushing my middle finger in a downward position. At first the men attempted to cajole me making statement like, putting a hole in the baby's head will be fun and good for the baby. Puncturing the soft spot in the baby's scalp will make the baby happy. Other things were said that awful day, other terrifying things were done, but the combined strength of two grown men did not prevail where I was concerned, but these men were able to execute their plan via the finger of another child.<br />
<br />
The written words which question, what happened yesterday? What can't I remember? Why is the neighborhood suddenly so quiet, and sad?<br />
<br />
Whatever other sentiments or questions I expressed in my daily writings I do not know as my writings were stolen from me just as many years of my life. As I struggle to reconnect with life's purpose, some of my confusion and uncertainly come out through writings. When I wrote the phrase, <b>"Empty volatile fools they be, dancing outside of destiny,"</b> I hadn't remember at that writing what had happened to Freddie Mae's daughter. Yet. some minute traces of a seemingly forgotten experience oozed.<br />
<br />
Sometime after the horrifying day of the baby's murder, Freddie again crossed the street this time to state to me that she was putting her life in her hands by telling me that someone was going to try and convince me that I had something to do with her daughter's death but that I was not to believe the, Freddie further stated that she was in the house, in the room when the murder took place and that the two grown men forced one of the other children to kill her child. <br />
<br />
Even today, many years later, I don't know if it was a state of shock or some of the manipulative actions of Mk-Ultra which caused me to forget that brutally inhumane day for so many years.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-17503802312595965922016-03-08T16:29:00.003-08:002016-03-08T16:29:37.235-08:00Convalescence Don't run away from grief, O soul<br />
Look for the remedy inside the pain<br />
because the rose came from the thorn<br />
and the ruby came from the stone---- Rumi<br />
<br />
As a survivor of Mk-Ultra for years I have achingly wanted my memories fully restored. The irony, or perhaps more realistically, the intended programmed factor is that when finally, segments of my past begin to return only the traumatic events of my past surfaced. The fact that the United States Government and the CIA are the entities behind the behavioral mind manipulations project is the major reason why as a survivor of this program the period of convalescence is so extensive. I was once told by a government agent that even if my memories were to return that no one would believe my story. Well, I have grown to realize that my responsibility is to tell what I know; not to attempt any forethought of, or to attempt to filter through the minds of the American public.<br />
<br />
A second reality which I have accepted is that I must tell my story regardless of the ridicule or disbelief I will receive. I remember a line from Homer which read, "A coward dies a thousands deaths but a brave person only dies once." In truth the line reads; "That a brave MAN only dies once." But, I have learned in life that bravery is not bias toward gender. In any regard, I am not looking to expire any time soon but just the opposite, I am looking forward to living a full rich life free from the prisoner encased within and because of her silence. <br />
<br />
Early in life for me there was no lack of ambition. I spent some of my elementary years being educated in Russia and Great Britain. Since childhood for me was during the early to late fifties as a female child being educated in Russia was very fortuitous, since during this period of time the Russians did not discriminate according to gender where education was concern. <br />
<br />
I had a exuberant passion for space exploration. My young mind was fascinated by the thought that man would one day have the ability to land on the moon. Many a night, I sat staring wistfully at the stars and when possible, not only would I stare at a full moon but with lips widely parted smile in wonder at the luminous sphere in the sky. As mentioned prior on this blog, I had been enrolled into an accelerated educational program and the level of courses I took was based on ability not age or grade level..<br />
<br />
Ofttimes, in life, when you do something for others, something good happens to you. I had wanted to begin this post with a different Rumi quote but could not locate the specific book that contained the quote. Then, yesterday. when my granddaughter was visiting she wanted to play with a specific toy which, also, I could not at first find. Subsequently, as we looked into plastic storage boxes where I had previously searched for the Rumi book, there tucked quietly in a corner of the bend was the book.; and as a day gone right, we also found the toy she wanted. In any event, here is the poem:<br />
<br />
The difficulties of winter and autumn.,<br />
the heat of summer,<br />
spring like the spirit of life,<br />
winds and clouds and lighting--all these<br />
help to make distinctions clear:<br />
so the dust-colored earth<br />
may bring forth all it holds in its heart,<br />
whether ruby or dull stone.<br />
<br />
In this blog, I have shared many of the traumas and exploitation's which I have endured in life. There are still other brutal and vile incidences which have not yet been posted. Nevertheless, when I read a poem such as the one above, I attempt to look for the metamorphic benefits in my life: such as, am I wiser, stronger, braver, more courageous? Have I in any way evolved into a more compassionate, caring, giving human being? How can I decipher the, was, from the, is. and find a distinction wherein. <br />
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Prior to Mk-Ultra , I practiced law, was a married woman and mother. I was very involved and active in my communities both faith-based and local. Being involved in what I considered worthwhile causes was second nature to me. I believed I had a purpose in life and daily I went about attempting to fulfill my purpose. I, then, possessed a strong sense of direction and a even stronger sense of certainty where my destiny of serving was concerned. <br />
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Then, two men entered the home of this mother, this wife, this attorney, and most importantly, the woman whose primary goal in life was being committed to doing God's Will. These agents forced me to leave my home, my son, my marriage, my life on the disguise of needing to protect me, ( as then, I was tentatively scheduled to be a witness against members of organized crime.) According to the agents, when another young woman who was scheduled to be a witness in the same case was murdered, the decision was made to place me in protective custody. Whatever my goals, ambitions, or responsibilities were bore no relevance to the governmental agents and agencies; as it was their interest, their goals, their objective which immediately usurped mine.<br />
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After I was taken out of my marriage, my former husband developed an intimate relation with a colleague. That specific situation should have had no connection to my life but the porous relationship of existence caused the jealousy of my former husband's lover to spew over into my life. <br />
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In the epic writing of Lucian; A Greek satirist of the second century A,D. In his masterful play: "Dialogues of the Dead" he asserted that kings, philosophers, aristocrats and people of wealth and prominent prior to travel through death rid themselves all of the superficial baggage collect throughout life.<br />
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My husband's paramour, had not made this journey and much of the vile baggage he had collect throughout his life was released on me. This person held a powerful position within the US government and being a person of substantial financial means presented an opportunity. He used both his position and his means to go beyond the so-called protective order and he caused one of the most degrading, and excruciatingly painful events of my life. He used his position of power to enter into an area of governmental sources which are not open to the public. After all, a protected witness, is not one anyone outside of the enforcement should be able to locate. Yet, I guess with the right amount of influence and currency, what should be can be altered and the colleague found out where I was living and he brought about the most vile and extremely cruel incident in my life.<br />
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An example of a dialogue in the play is found below: when Hermes, a character in the play is talking with a philosopher. In Greek Mythology. "Hermes is the god of commerce . invention. cunning, and theft, who also served as message and herald for other gods, as patron of travel and rogues, and as the conductor of the dead to Hades; identified with the Roman god Mercury." (The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language definition.. <br />
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<span style="background-color: #fefaf1; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 13px / normal "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">"HERMES</span><br />
<span style="background-color: #fefaf1; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 13px / normal "verdana" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; letter-spacing: normal; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Off with your clothes first; and then we will see to the rest. My goodness, what a bundle: quackery, ignorance, quarrelsomeness, vainglory; idle questionings, prickly arguments, intricate conceptions; humbug and gammon and wishy-washy hair-splitting's without end; and hullo! why here's avarice, and self-indulgence, and impudence! luxury, effeminacy and peevishness!—Yes, I see them all; you need not try to hide them. Away with falsehood and swagger and superciliousness; why, the three-decker is not built that would hold you with all this luggage."</span><br />
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In Lucian.'s play when one is traveling from life to death they must be loaded onto a boat which will take them to their final destination. As noted in the above quote, unnecessary characteristic are not allowed on the boat. Farther along in the epic, a king comes to the juncture and is told that he must leave behind his arrogance, his false pride, his jealousy, and a number of other pompous qualities which would cause the travel to be burdensome. <br />
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One of the seven deadly sins, jealousy, ejected itself into my life with nearly deadly consequences when my former husband's intimate partner, needing according to him, to have me taken off the pedestal which my husband me on; contacted a coworker. This person was bribed into giving me a substance which rendered me unconscious and unaware of my circumstances .I was then kept against my knowledge and will for a period of time. Even though, I am a Mk-Ultra survivor, I do not understand nor did I know the techniques that can put a person in a hypnotic like state. While being held in a stupor., I was photographer and painted in the nude. I learned later that the images were widely circulated due to the fact that the perpetrated of these indignation stated that his motive was to have my husband think less of me..<br />
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During the period of time in life when I made my own decision, I always dressed in a conservative professional manner. I valued my intelligence and abilities and contributions. Personal provocative dress or any type of physical public exposure would never be sanctioned by me. Yet, for a while according to what I learned, such photos of me were circulated. I guess the results wanted by the perpetrator did not manifest as the abuse went much, much further. <br />
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I once saw one of the painting done of me in the nude and it was clear that I was not a willing subject as my head was dangling as if it was not attached to my body. A few times during this period,, I have minute moments of awareness and I overheard someone giving direction hearing statements like, "Can't you manage to get her head more upright. She's nearly drooling." An unknowing rag doll, a marionette, an object of someone in a position of power envy. What a dangerous situation to be placed in.<br />
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I have no way of knowing how seeing the images of my naked photos effected my pedestal stance where my former husband was concerned but my situation did not improve.. A female acquaintance who I had no reason not to trust, lured me to a place where I was told would be a party. Once at the located I was drugged and put into a situation which was so horrifying that one of the individuals in the room stated that if those holding me were going to follow the instruction they were waiting to receive, that she was going to leave the room. It seems that a loaded gun had been placed in my vaginal area and that a phone call awaited where the instruction to either pull the trigger or not would be given.<br />
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One of the reasons I titled this post, "Convalescence," is the fact that an emotional recovery requires an intentional rehabilitation just as a physical injury does. I think it is important to state at this time that on one, I mean, NO ONE, who was involved in what happened to me has ever had to answer for their crimes. I have gone back and forth a number of times as what I should title my book, "The Protected Witness" is just one of the titles. <br />
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One of the essential components in recovering from trauma is releasing the strong hold of protective self. There was a time when I would have found revealing the above fact too humiliating to share. It's like being defaced. Physical nakedness is minute compared to the depth and disclosure of emotional scares when your very ethos has been disregarded and minimized. <br />
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I have decided to place excerpts from a work-in-process novel on this blog. I have been working on the manuscript for a number of years. I won't want my continued efforts to become void of fruition. I might be able to understand the why's behind the fact that my novel has not been published, the fact that recovery is not completed. Consequently, I will place what I consider some of the most significant chapters on this blog. It is amazing that gross injustice does not change. <br />
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Below please find segments from the manuscript written by me titled, "From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice."<br />
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As an introduction to the excerpt, I will give a brief overview of what is called psycho-driving, a technique in behavioral manipulation in programming. <br />
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“Trauma-based mind control programming can be defined as systematic torture that blocks the victim’s capacity for conscious processing (through pain, terror, drugs, illusion, sensory deprivation, sensory over-stimulation, oxygen deprivation, cold, heat, spinning, brain stimulation, and often, near-death), and then employs suggestion and/or classical and operand conditioning (consistent with well-established behavioral modification principles) to implant thoughts, directives, and perceptions in the unconscious mind, often in newly-formed trauma-induced dissociated identities, that force the victim to do, feel, think, or perceive things for the purposes of the programmer. The objective is for the victim to follow directives with no conscious awareness, including execution of acts in clear violation of the victim’s moral principles, spiritual convictions, and volition.</div>
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Installation of mind control programming relies on the victim’s capacity to dissociate, which permits the creation of new walled-off personalities to “hold” and “hide” programming. Already dissociate children are prime “candidates” for programming”. [5. Ellen P. Lacter, Ph. D., The Relationship Between Mind Control Programming and Ritual Abuse]</div>
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As readers of this blog if you have some understanding of the techniques used against victims of mind control the excerpts from my novel can be more understandable. The excerpt which I will now include tells of the reaction of a child during a psycho-driving period who had been forced to sleep for months while continuous tape-recordings are played. Several mornings, unknown to- her captors, the child would wake-up. This excerpt is such a morning.</div>
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Many children awaken with a sense of belonging and feeling secure within their immediate environments. The reflective thoughts which allow children to develop the sense of belonging were not there for this captured child. Nurturing memories. like the sight of her mother's smiling face and approving glances were stripped from the child's consciousness. The only repeated memory which visited this captured child was the memory of a pair of pink slippers.</div>
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Aleah, walked from the bedroom where she was being kept. Descending a flight of stairs she located a long vertical window where she sat. Seated on the landing, she stared at the sky's emerging wonders. The colorful morning sky's hues triggered memories beyond her missing pink slippers, An affixed gaze recalled the ballerina's movements contained in the jewelry box which was seated on in her mother's nightstand in her parent's bedroom. The flourished movement of a dancer's skirt jumped from within the colorful smeared sky. The enormous balloon of dawn carried within its' ascension, the color of Aleah's bedroom walls, along with some the coloring in the dress of her favored doll. The energetic ball of morn emitted splinters of her treasured past.. Her outdoor sandbox, the swing set, the backyard playhouse. Yet, her mother name, the own name, the wading pool, the antiques dolls, the porcelain tea set, her precious friends were like an evaporated specter.</div>
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Luckily, within the pigmentation of dawn, while seated on this landing, a few sprinkles of her yesterdays' returned before the furlong child drifted back to sleep. Nodding limply, Aleah's forehead touched the window's pane. A<span style="line-height: 29.71px;">fter a few seconds, the penetrating feel of the cold glass against her soft young skin jolted her awake. Soon, again, she nodded forward. Resting her forehead on the window's pane, for a while this seemingly motherless child found a momentary sense of peace. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "cambria" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 29.71px;">The frigid morning's air placed an arctic chill on the window's glass which disrupted the child's temporary state of rest causing her disbelief. Repeatedly, She placed her right hand, first on the window's pane, then, again on her forward. Confusion and nausea gripped, and for a moment in this youngster's mind, the only image seen was that of a classical toy whose wooden head moved vigorously in spasmodic motion. Shaken, the terrified child, extended both hands mentally attempting to halt the movement of this big brown eyed wooden toy with his painted black lacquered hair and his quivering body. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "cambria" , "times new roman" , "times" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 29.71px;">When her hands touched the cold glass instead of the jerking toy, the dazed child walked with the wooden figurine still jousting about in her head away from the landing, through the living room and down the front stairs. The front door opened, she was pushed, the door locked and the shoe less child wearing only a sleeveless flimsy grown stood trembling in the cold. </span></span></div>
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ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-47127162986331691512015-10-06T14:42:00.001-07:002016-06-21T11:04:23.736-07:00Honesty<b><i>"O believers, remember God Oft,</i></b><br />
<b><i>and give Him glory at the dawn and in the evening." The Qur'an</i></b><br />
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As I journey through internal discovery and recovery, it is challenging to be completely honest regarding my seemingly unbelievable truth.. This morning, as I meditated and soaked in the bath , I thought about a daughter I birthed, whom I have not seen in many, many years. This daughter was inseminated against my knowledge and consent which I am sure most if not all who view my blog, will have a difficult time understand or an even more difficult time believing. The factor of sharing traumatic childhood experiences and, then, not being believed, haunts numerous survivors of childhood abuse, "Who will believe me? While other often wonder, will people think less of me due to what was done to me?"<br />
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Fear, shame, avoidance, confusion and the feeling of being totally alone makes for a volatile, emotional interior backdrop for an abused child. Yet, it is when a survivor of an unfathomable horror makes the statement, "I am blessed," that I am in awe. With that being said, may I say, void of awe, that I am a survivor who is truly blessed,<br />
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One evening two different acquaintances introduced me to one of their friends. Since both acquaintances knew that I am a spiritual path, they selected to bring one man who thought of himself as a Shaman type and the other who professed no accolade identity. As we discussed variant subject over hot cups of tea, at a local Hookah bar. the man who acclaimed no identifying title made a most profound statement. He calmly asked then answered the question.<br />
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"Have you ever contemplated that if Adam had legal representation at the time of his disobedience, there is a very good possibility that he would have never been removed from the Garden of Eden?<br />
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According to the untitled man, when God presented the logic to Adam, "I have blessed you with the incredibility of life, a garden plentiful and many blessings, how could you disobey Me?"<br />
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Adam's sincerely responded. (according to the seemingly humble man), "So that I could taste of your mercy."<br />
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I don't know if that statement would have prevented the eviction, but it does give pause.<br />
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When in the relaxation of my morning ritual, I asked myself are you really going to talk about having been forcefully inseminated, then,when hesitation regarding the exposure of this personally defacing humiliation seeped, I thought about the book, "The Franklin Cover-up", written by John Decamp and having read this extraordinary revelation of documented child abuse, I mustered the courage to share yet another almost inconceivable personal truth. <br />
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Now, a rapid change of subject. A large number of years ago, I had been in a Catholic convent for what I believed to be a few weeks for a high school retreat. One day after having been out of the convent for what I seemed a few weeks, I happened into a high school friend who made a statement which perplexed me. "I see you didn't make it either? She then continued, " At least you lasted longer than I did, she affirmed. "One day, she continued," " In a total panic, after a years in the convent, I phoned my mother pleading with her to come and get me immediately. I assured her that if she were not at the convent within a few hours that I would find something to jump off of," My loving mother. within the hour, was standing next to me asking had I packed and was I sure that this is what I wanted to do.. " Shortly after my mother's questions, I was home ordering a pepperoni pizza."<br />
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The friends's name was Josephine and when I told her that I had no idea what she was talking about. that I had only been in the convent a few weeks. And what on earth gave her the idea what I had spent two years in the convent. After she took several very deep inhales, shaking her head, her only remark was, "Wow! They must have really done a job on you."<br />
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In the face of the many horrors I have experience the feeling of being bless stem from the knowledge of what did not happen to me rather than what did. I did not turn to drugs or alcohol. Gratefully, in me, there did not develop sexual promiscuity. hatred or lack of faith. When a person, especially a child, turns to a faith-based institution for salvation and receives instead deception, dishonesty, violations, much is ripped from the individual's emotionally. What an enormously invisible interior hole. What remains is a gaping, shredded, once whole vibrant being. For me, it was only the strength of faith and the slow relinquishing of pain that begin by healing process.<br />
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Those who did what they did to me and others are not better than us they are just a great deal more powerful. They are not special, or blessed. The are not privileged but instead they are deviant and perverted. Arrogance has been the downfall of societies prior to this one. <br />
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It seems to me that one day, I was having a tea party with my dolls under the embracing shade of an oak tree in the backyard of parents home. Then, next, I was having my dress lifted up and my panties pulled down my strange foreign men who stated when attempting to examine my vaginal area, "They say that girls of her class are operated on at birth for some kind of identification purpose."<br />
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When the man who was suppose to be babysitting walked into the backroom of the small bar where the men had taken me saw what was happening, he became outraged. "What are you doing to this child?" When the men explained what they had heard regarding girls born into certain families and the required vaginal surgery, the babysitter angrily asked, "And just how many young girl's panties have you pulled down to find out?"<br />
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The men in the backroom answered, "Oh! "Man it's not like that. We're not like that" The sitter, then readjusted my attire, proceeded to walk me back to where I was being kept and continuously asked me, "Did those men hurt you? The sitter struggled with how to phrase his words when attempting to get answers from me regarding what I had just experienced. I never answered his questions. I was under seven year old at the time and I only knew that I felt fear and that I did not understand why the men had taken me or why I was afraid of them.<br />
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Since during this period of time, I was caused to sleep for long period of time, I remember little of the aftermath of the incident and did not remember the backroom examination for many years to come.<br />
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Personally healing for me is associated with the acknowledgement that I was an exploited and abused child. The exploitation extended into adulthood and is still seeded in my life as I don't remember my birth name and when I attempt to find answers, powerful sources within the government hinder my attempts.<br />
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I pray that through my attempts and the attempts of other Mk-Ultra survivors that the truth of his brutal scar on American History will one day fully be told.<br />
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<br />ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-45268393482156444102015-04-16T15:39:00.000-07:002015-04-16T15:39:33.716-07:00Excavation of Truth The excavation of any concept of truth can be a most arduous task as the idea of truth is viewed through many prisms of thought. A factual truth which I can share is that on April second of this year, 2015, as I sat at my computer, I felt a notable trimmer. The shaking of the building in which I live lasted maybe five or ten seconds. However, since, in a nearby community, one less than ten minutes away, such 3.3 or less earthquakes trimmers had been reported, with a fair amount of frequency. In the previous six months the mentioned community had at least three such reports. With that knowledge at hand, I did not panic or become frightened. I did whatever stop what I was doing on the computer, (probably playing online scrabble), long enough to call a neighbor who did not answer her phone, consequently, I returned to whatever I had been doing that day. That evening, I watch the news and the report of an earthquake ranging 3. something on the seismograph instrument was reported. Since I live on the ninth floor of a sixteen floor building, I wondered if I should have felt the trimmer's force more or less than someone living on the first floor. I did not ponder the location comparatives very long as I was somewhat unmoved by the incident. <br />
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The mysteries and wonders of nature are profoundly complicated, profusely exquisite, while being continuously miraculous. At this point, I may be a bit repetitive were a previous post is concerned but I once again want to share the events of a most exquisite and miraculous day in my life.<br />
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As a Mk-Ultra survivor during the periods of my programming there were no ordinary days. For me, awareness of a day could start at noon or perhaps at eight in the evening or perhaps, not at all. Since, during this period, I live in a place where there were no mirrors, my rudimentary visual concept of how I look vanished like the memories of my biological family and my birth name. <br />
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However, on this particular day, awareness seeped into consciousness as I heard phrases like, ' She's coming our of it.' "Act like she's been at the table all the time." Other statement made by the children who sat at the dining table where we were all seated when slowly, then suddenly, I became consciously aware of the day. Any conversation prior to my alertness, I had no concept regarding. Any jokes, or friendly banter, any affectionate remarks or family reports, nothing of what had occurred before my eyes opened were recorded in my mental space. What my mental space did record as I became a part of the day was other children smiling and talking at the table. Some of the conversational statement ground into my subconscious during the psycho-driving segment of my programming took life. Someone asked for the salt to be passed. A statement which had been often repeated in the massive amount of tapes which I had been forced to listen to continuously while in a sedated state. Other innocuous statements like where's the sugar or pass the bread were sometimes gigged from the mouths of the children at the table. The statements made were in voices familiar to me as they were the voices I heard on the tapes. I have surmised that using the voices of the children in the household was done so that once I was allowed to spend more time awake, these ordinary occurrences would seem familiar, also they would seem to have been occurring for a long period of time.<br />
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The only person seated at the table whose voice was not on the types and who had shown me compassion was not an immediate member of the family I was forced to live with, but, instead a first cousin who had come to live with the family for a period of time. For the purpose of this post let's call him, Chancy. In any event, once I was alert, I felt a little comfort at seeing him at the other end of the table directly in front of me. Chancy once warned me when he came into the apartment very early one morning finding me awake and seated on a platform opening that lead to the second floor of the apartment. I was seated directly in front of a long vertical window, watching the sunrise. Chancy warned me not to let the people who lived in the house know that I sometimes got out of bed without their knowledge. He further stated, that if the people in the house found out that I got up without them knowing they would do something to cause me to sleep longer. He also told me to try and realize when I might be waking up and to try and train myself not to move my eyes. He told me that my eye movements were one of the ways that they knew that I was coming out of it. As a child of perhaps six or seven when the statements were made to me I did not quite understand the why behind the warning but I did remember it and prior kindness by him and on that day I took comfort at him being at the table.<br />
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Chancy was older than the other children in the house and very capable of cajoling them. When around, he often took the lead in any conversation spoken at lunchtime. When he was at the lunchtime table, he did not allow the other children's constant taunts. I don't remember seeing him at dinner. Actually, when I think of that time, I remember eating few, if any, dinners in that household. But on this afternoon, after only a short period, perhaps, less than half an hour, an inner nudging urged me to turn around. Had I turned, I would have been facing the vertical window where I sometimes had watched the sunrise. The dire complication of a seven year old child having been kidnapped then stripped of personal memories did not elicit this child trusting a inner urging, no matter how gentle. A peculiar uncertainty draped. I look toward Chancy and saw a look of fear and terror on his face. He stood then immediate reseated himself. Chancy pointed toward me seemingly shouting for me to turn around, but I could not hear his voice. Peripherally, I saw the other children still seated at the table but my awareness of them became minimal. With my eyes focused on Chancy, he repeatedly pointed toward the window frantically telling me to turn around. He then Continued the anxious gestures several more times before he inhaled deeply, then exhaled a tremendous sigh of relief, he statement, " He wants you not me. I thought that he was coming after him me." Telepathically, Chancy repeated, "He's coming after you."<br />
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The atmosphere around me began to change. A quietness, a silence enveloped me while the strong attraction to turn around still prevailed. I felt that I was being gently pulled away from other children in the room. Briefly, I saw the children around me anxiously talking, yet, I could not hear their voices. My hesitancy in turning around was not out of fear, but by this time, at age seven, I had experienced brainwashing, (What a gentle term for such a diabolical action, especially when this action is committed against a child). I still don't understand the reason for the hesitancy, but after a time of resistance, I turned and faced the platform and the window.<br />
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When I turned toward the window whatever it was which had caused Chancy's fear, was not visible to me. The ethereal persuasion permeating me caused me to feel as if I were gliding as I advanced toward the platform. As I moved forward, awareness of other diminish. I did not remember the fear on Chancy's face nor my initial resistance. It just seemed to me that I flowed across the room unconnected to gravity. Once near the platform, toward my right, the appearance of the archetype of the fallen angel was visible. The fire engine red creature with its short black horns leered. I did not equate the image seen with evil for this might have been the first time I had ever experienced the image. Following, a few more steps, I noticed a second image. The second image was of a small figure with a round flat grayish looking face and a stick figure type body; he stood to my left. I found this second image much more attracting and amiable. Telepathically, I began to communicate with the grayish figure. This incident happened many years ago and exactness is not possible at this time. I do recall the grayish image telling me that something was about to happen. He further told me that I had nothing to be afraid of and that he was there for a reason having to do with energy. The matter he told me was too complicated to discuss at that time. <br />
<br />
I was immediately fascinated by the extremely intelligent creature who stood to my left. I found his unusual features and characteristics intriguing and thought that he was someone I could communicate with , have fun with, play with. This excitement felt, was very short lived before it seemed to me that the sun was coming too closer to the second floor apartment. I had been so mesmerized by my newly found friend that nothing else around me held any of my attention. Yet, as it seemed that the sun was getting nearer and nearer the apartment, I mentally questioned if it would cause the apartment to caught fire. I wondered if the children in the house would be harmed. Just as I was becoming more concerned, the intelligent figure assured me that there was no reason for concern. For an undeterminable amount of seconds, I quietly watched the appearance of the sun graduate closer to the window. Even at seven, logic caused me to wonder how whatever it was, would be able to get through the thick brick wall of the apartment. Soon, the concern as to the safety of the children in the house was usurped by a celestial radiance. This enormous glow of yellow light began to take form. After a while, I could see the intense light penetrate through the brick wall. Still, in a mesmeric state, I watched as the light took form and once the image stood before me, in total awe, I immediately started to kneel. The completed image now standing before me looked apprehensively upward and slightly toward his right shoulder before he vehemently instructed me not to kneel, when he stated, "I did not tell them to worship me." <br />
<br />
I don't know how much time has passed when the figure to my left told me that he was leaving and that he had served his reason for heralding. I became sad and disappointed at the fact of his leaving. I guess without realizing it due to the techniques used in mind control that I did not realize that I missed my friends and having someone to communicate with on my age level or for that fact, any levels at all. Before leaving the grayish figure told me to give my full attention to the image standing before me. The red image languished for a while then cowed backwardly away. Before leaving it stated in a vile, angry manner, "You would protect her." then he disappeared. <br />
<br />
The extraordinary figure left standing before me explained to me that when I learned of him on this side of the globe how he looked that day was the way he was perceived on the side of the world where I was now living. He further stated that he had been perceived in many different way through many different cultures for many years. Other event of the vision are vague but I do remember being told that it is not good for a person to know too much about their future. I was told that for a while I would forget about the vision but that these things would come back to me in time. I was told that I would experience many hardship in my life but that thing would turn out all right in the end. I think that I was taken on a journey that day before being returned to the platform. <br />
<br />
I don't remember the balance of that day once returned. I don't remember many days which followed as the programming continued. I do recall being asked by a number of adults who I did not know to explain what I saw that day. Many question were put before me. Question like, "Where was his heart." "Did he hold it in his hand?" One would think that such an exceptional experience would be respected and valued but instead I was treated as if I thought I was better than others and harassed and badgered. The many strangers who questioned me never treated me with kindness. <br />
<br />
Since the title of this particular post is; "Excavation of Truth" it is not the ultimate truth of which I am speaking but indeed the truth of Mk-Ultra. The truth regarding the deception and chicanery perpetrated against unwitting citizens by sources whom they most likely trusted. The truth regarding the annihilation of an individuals inherent right to do God's Will due to finite interference. Thy kingdom come Thy will be done is certainly a statement I completely understand.ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-20210838548171630922015-02-24T15:07:00.000-08:002015-02-24T15:10:25.817-08:00UnpluggedSura20:50<br />
Our Lord is<br />
He Who gave to each<br />
(Created) thing its form<br />
And nature, and further,<br />
Gave (it) guidance.<br />
<br />
I have always been intrigued by the mysterious, the unexplainable, the supernatural, the" Outer Limits," type riddles of life. Years ago when the television show" The Outer Limits," aired, I was a weekly viewer, never missing an episode, and, always attempting to solve the program's unexpected twist prior to its revealed.<br />
<br />
One of the major appeals for me where the storylines in these programs were the subtle logic and moral overtones. A consistent weekly attraction for me regarding the show was the unstated emphasis that there were consequences for unethical, amoral, or unkind deeds. These reinforcements of social values were presented coiled within an unpredictable situations and maze of characters.<br />
<br />
During the period in my life when the only knowledge I had of self was that which had been implanted, I questioned why curtained things interested me, attracted me, appealed to me or in some inexplicable way resonated within me. While on a walk one afternoon, I passed a ladies upscale consignment store, properly named, "The Women's Exchanged." The exchange store had an unique presence in the location, as it was a small business as compared to the others on this two block strip of extravagances. <br />
<br />
On the almost daily jaunt, I glanced into the windows of stores like Sak's Fifth Avenue, and Niemen Marcus. The two things I knew regarding these stores at the time was that they sold very expensive items, according to the people in the neighborhood nearby, and for me, their display windows held a fascinating appeal while during the Christmas season, the entire area became beyond belief.<br />
<br />
The children either those in the household were I live, or the children of the neighbors did not share my love of the opulent blocks of stores. On the days when I would meandered alone "Maryland Plaza", which was what the area called, I always walked alone. <br />
<br />
The reality of the mind manipulated via psycho-driving and electric shocks, is that the edifice which contains the brain and the neurons which were disturbed and altered function, as in a wondering void. At the time, I never questioned my attraction to the other side of the economic track. The middle class or, for that matter, even the upper middle class members of society rarely if ever shopped at these very, very high-end stores.<br />
<br />
While walking on the plaza, I never felt uncomfortable or out of place. I was probably under eleven years of age at the time and clothes and fashion were of no particular interest to me. I think it was just that whatever was left of me, which was still contained within me, gravitated to the residue of me somewhere contained in the traces of non-remembered memories. <br />
<br />
The brutality of Mk-Ultra with its physical, spiritual, and emotional invasiveness into the innate physiology of the mind, body, and dreams of a child. Forever, altering the formed development and true nature of those who were exploited. <br />
<br />
The word love is one often used when one talks about the feelings parents have for their children But what about the concept of being valued. I felt valued by my parents. In a home where collectable art and eclectic music, delicate pink crystal and the scent of vanilla pipe tobacco filled its inner structure; there were no contents, regardless of appraisal, more valued than its child.<br />
<br />
I was not the neglected child of privilege. Neither, my parents' ambitions nor their accomplishments waned attention or guidance toward me. <br />
<br />
Then, suddenly, abruptly, callously, the snatching. <br />
<br />
I remembered an office where a man waved a heart shaped silver necklace in from of my eyes and he told me to follow his movement of the necklace. There were times when this man would bring things like a small object from the top draw of his desk and he would ask me if the object seemed familiar. Sometimes, I would look at the object with a vague sense of recognition. The external non-verbal signs of raised eyebrows, then a squint, a sigh, a shaking of the head, finally the, "no.'"<br />
<br />
One day the man, who I now assume was a doctor, stood in front of his desk and opened the necklace which he had often dangled in mid-air from side-to-side while instructing me to follow the object with my eyes. The frequently seen piece of jewelry turned out to be a locket that once opened displayed its content, a small intimate photograph of a woman and a child, a mother and a daughter, a segment of my past, something at the time my mind could not remember or excruciation stopped the memories. <br />
<br />
During this period of time in my abduction, wherever I was held, there were no mirrors in the location. I don't recall how I got dressed in the mornings nor do I remember changing for bed at night. I don't recall breakfast, lunch or evening meals nor was there conversation with others. The few things I remember at this time when I was not yet age seven, were the movement of the locket, the squealing sound of a tape-recording rewinding, and the nothingness which lay between.<br />
<br />
The audacious, adventurous, lively, loving, creative child who loved the out-of-doors and the color yellow; who often had tea parties with her favored dolls, who played an imaginary violin when listening to classical music; this vital and vibrant being's torture placed amnesic cells in her reality.ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-6354992293820324652014-12-15T20:52:00.000-08:002014-12-15T20:52:11.255-08:00Recognizing BlessingsSura 93:1-3<br />
<br />
1. By the Glorious Morning Light,<br />
2. and by the Night when it is still-<br />
3. The Guardian-Lord hath not forsaken Thee, nor is He displeased.<br />
<br />
When I think of the devastation and the exploitation which I received at the hands of a cruel and indifferent government, for many years, I was stunned, stuck, submerged in an emotional and spiritual level far below my innate capacity. I became coiled in a suspended emptiness where in journeying through life I became like a zombie enduring an out of body experience. There were no tears, nor was there laughter, no anticipation peaked, nor were there feelings of disappointment, hope, or joy. <br />
<br />
One day I was child, a daughter, an individual who belonged to a family, a culture, historical lineage and heritage which dating back centuries; then, what felt like the next moment, I was snatched, grabbed, kidnapped. <br />
<br />
It was a sun filled day in London, England. The bellowing white clouds were so pump and fluffy that while seated in the out-of-doors, transformed by the beauty of the day, awaiting the decision of whether or not myself and another child would be allowed to attend the annual Piccadilly Parade, momentarily, I did not experience the childish anxiousness of jumpy anticipation. <br />
<br />
My fellow cohort did not share my calm appreciation of the day and he had paced throughout the palace like an animal of prey hunger for a conquest. My father was in diplomatic services which yielded the fact that the family knew people from all over the world some of which actually lived in palaces. As a child rather you live in a modest home, a mansion, a hacienda or a bubble when there is a parade in town, there is the uniformity of the wonder within a child's imagination. <br />
<br />
I had retreated from the palace in consequence of my friend's nervous pacing and constant questions as when the adults would make a decision. Being a reticent person naturally, My friend, (well, let's call him John), might as well have been disassembling my emotional components. <br />
<br />
"They always wait till the last minute to let us know anything. Why do they constantly take away any enjoyment of fun things that are planned? A parade, it's just a parade. What bad thing could happen at a parade?"<br />
<br />
I, of course, did not have the answers to the flurries of question directed toward me, the walls, the floor, the many rooms, or, any other person or object within John's vocal range, which he most certainly knew; nevertheless, there seemed to have been an expectation of me. That being that I should have been as frustrated and as annoyed as he where the wishy-washy decision-making adults were concerned. <br />
<br />
The adults did make a decision and John and I were allowed to attend the parade. And the answer to his question as to what could happen at a parade is contained in the second paragraph of this posting; Snatched, grabbed, Kidnapped.<br />
<br />
For well over twenty years I did not remember any part of my life prior to being subjected to the technique of Mk-Ultra. The complexity and mystery contained within and behind the internal walls of amnesic cells. I am astonished at what was forgotten. Amazed that I still have a great deal which I do not remember and graceful that again, I am able to feel hope, joy and the prayerful anticipation that one day, be it the will of God, and my own personal determination, all will be returned to me. <br />
<br />
I, of course, can not get back the years taken from me. The years away from my parents, children, friends, my professions, my rights, and in many ways my life. I must believe or rather choose to believe that things happen for a reason in life. As I have mentioned prior, I was a gifted child. Placed in an accelerated education program at an early age. My life of accomplishments started early and my contributions to the global society of which I belonged were becoming eminent, until the day that an entity called government decided that the gifts given to me by the almighty were disposable due to the entities' self-interest. <br />
<br />
Although, I could and in my novel will tell of the unbelievable torments, traumas, exploitation that happened in my life. I will also tell of the phenomenal spiritual occurrence which have brought me back from despair, feelings of hopelessness and uselessness. Regardless of the tragedies of life. It is essential to recognize the blessings.<br />
<br />
ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-30226811793420489742014-10-05T14:03:00.000-07:002018-10-02T14:21:21.059-07:00Ambivalence <strong>Man's original food is the light of God;</strong><br />
<strong> material food is not for him;</strong><br />
<strong> but from disease,</strong><br />
<strong> his mind has fallen into delusion</strong><br />
<strong>that day and night he should eat only this food.</strong><br />
<strong> He isle, weak, and faint:</strong><br />
<strong> where is the food of <em>by heaven</em></strong><br />
<strong><em> which has starry tracks?</em></strong><br />
<strong> That is the food of the chosen,</strong><br />
<strong> food eaten without fork or throat.</strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<strong><strong>Rumi's Daylight</strong> </strong><br />
<strong></strong><br />
<br />
I have been negligent where posting to my blog is concerned. It is not that I don't value the wonderful opportunity of having an international theatre for voicing my issues and concerns; the fact is that at times emotionally, spiritually and physical, I need to direct my energies toward creative healing matters like meditations, massage and prayer.<br />
<br />
With that being stated, I must also acknowledge the fact that avoidance and denial are still a factor in my attempt of full recovery. One of the most important elements of progress toward recovery is having the ability to be grateful. It's a rainy day where I currently live. A misty, drizzle which has lowered the previously scorching temperature. Just yesterday, the extreme heat zapped my physical energy leaving many outdoor chores incomplete. Early this morning with a wide smile on my face, I grabbed my umbrella, eagerly left my apartment, anticipating a favorable interaction with the day.<br />
<br />
I, of course, was very pleased with the thirty degrees decrease in temperature, especially since, as a way of contributing to the community in which I live, two day a week, I volunteer and deliver meals for the Visiting Nurse Associations' Meals-on-Wheels program. My volunteer efforts are also a way of me getting away from my personal introspection and viewing life from outside of a mental encasement. Thoughts, like rain, can saturate. <br />
<br />
Prior to being used in the Mk-Ultra Project, I was a very successful woman. Since I possessed a very high IQ, I was entered into an accelerated educational program by age eleven or twelve. I have only fragmented remnants of those educational years, but, oddly, I remember one lecture type classroom, one professor, one blackboard which occupied the entire front wall of the room and one classmate, a prior friend. <br />
<br />
Although, gratitude pulsates through my daily thoughts, on a secondary level, I question the injustice which is a constant seam in my life. In the concept of recovery, it is impossible to regain the loss years. The years when I could not be one of the primary influences in raising my children. The long period of time when my gifted talents lay dormant. The years away from precious friends to say nothing about parents, a husband and most especially self.<br />
<br />
For a while I was having sessions with a psychiatrist and he asked me one day who did I miss the most. When I responded, "Me"' after making the comment, I immediately enquired, "Does that make me sound self-center or vain."<br />
<br />
"No," Doctor Miller responded, 'That is exactly the answer you should have given."<br />
<br />
I am currently working with an editor with the objective of having my manuscript published within a year or less. It is important, not exclusively for the survivors, but for each society that wants a civilized and humane management of its judicial system to know and to acknowledge governmental misconduct and inhumane practices. Humanity has such enormous potential, I question why the masses allow a demonic few to corrupt and deface our ethos. <br />
<br />
ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-77275402069661566662014-01-29T12:45:00.000-08:002014-01-29T12:45:01.712-08:00AccomplishmentToday is January 29th, 2014 and it has been a while since I last posted a new article on this blog. I started this blog to raise awareness regarding Mk-Ultra as well as to have an emotional outlet for voicing the fact of being a survivor of the experimentation program. Recently, I found out that I had inadvertently violated a name criteria and was blocked from creating new post. I am hoping today that Google had accepted my name consistency and allowed me back onto my blog.<br />
<br />
I still have many emotions and situation to log on this avenue of international communication. I want to express the mental, spiritual and physiological results of having been treated like a non-human, an unimportant being, an expendable gnat. ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-67699639640566543222012-12-19T08:23:00.000-08:002012-12-19T08:23:29.418-08:00Objective TruthOpen Letter <br />The following is an open letter from two of our members. Please distribute it widely, to lawyers everywhere.<br />Dear Counsel,<br />As an attorney, you know how important the Constitution and the rule of law is. We've just suffered through years of attack on the system of laws and justice in which we practice.<br />Many lawyers are concerned about presidential signing statements, spying on American citizens, torture, and other challenges to American law and international conventions... As attorneys, we are not swayed quite so much as some people by ungrounded emotions. We have expertise in analyzing competing claims, weighing conflicting evidence, and reaching logical decisions about what really happened. Moreover, as lawyers, we know that people sometimes cover up and attempt to hide incompetence, recklessness, or crime.<br />We have all heard people say that "everything changed on 9/11", as if that were an excuse to disregard the Constitution as a "quaint", outdated document. Not many American attorneys believe that.<br />In fact, many high-powered attorneys have questioned the Bush administration's explanation for 9/11 itself, including why the Bush administration allowed the hijacked planes to inflict so much damage on 9/11. By way of example only, the following lawyers have publicly questioned the Bush administration's explanation for 9/11, or believe there might have been a whitewash and a cover-up:<br />· J. Michael Springmann, head of the U.S. consular official in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, who witnessed first-hand CIA agents insisting that terrorists be let into the U.S., even though their paperwork was wholly inadequate<br />· John Loftus, Former Federal Prosecutor, Office of Special Investigations, U.S. Department of Justice under Presidents Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan, former U.S. Army Intelligence officer, and currently a widely-sought media commentator on terrorism and intelligence services<br />· J. Terrence "Terry" Brunner, former prosecutor in the Organized Crime and Racketeering Section of the U.S. Justice Department and a key member of Attorney General Bobby Kennedy's anti-corruption task force; former assistant U.S. Attorney for the Northern District of Illinois<br />· Francis Boyle, Professor of International Law at the University of Illinois, Champaign, a leading practitioner and advocate of international law, responsible for drafting the Biological Weapons Anti-Terrorism Act of 1989<br />· Burns H. Weston, Distinguished Professor of Law Emeritus and Founding Director and Senior Scholar, Center for Human Rights, The University of Iowa, Honorary Editor, Board of Editors, American Journal of International Law<br />· Richard Falk, Professor Emeritus, International Law, Professor of Politics and International Affairs, Princeton University<br />· Mark Conrad, assistant professor of Criminal Justice at Troy University; associate General Counsel, National Association of Federal Agents; Retired Agent in Charge, Internal Affairs, U.S. Customs, responsible for the internal integrity and security for areas encompassing nine states and two foreign locations<br />· Horst Ehmke, former Minister of Justice of West Germany. Professor of law, University of Freiburg;<br />· Ferdinando Imposimato, Honorary President of the Supreme Court of Italy. Former Senior Investigative Judge, Italy. Presided over numerous terrorism-related cases<br />The lawyers listed above, and many other legal scholars, have looked at the evidence and determined that a new, unbiased 9/11 investigation is needed.<br />We invite you to go to www.L911T.com, the website for Lawyers for 9/11 Truth, and look for yourself.<br />Signed,<br />Burns Weston<br />Distinguished Professor of Law Emeritus and Founding Director and Senior Scholar, Center for Human Rights, The University of Iowa, Honorary Editor, Board of Editors, American Journal of International Law<br />William Veale<br />Former instructor of Criminal Trial Practice at Boalt Hall School of Law, University of California at Berkeley. Retired Chief Assistant Public Defender, Contra Costa County.<br />Home <br />To contact Lawyers for 9/11 Truth, you can write to us at Email @ L911T.com (without any spaces). If you are a lawyer, judge or professor of law, active or retired, wishing to add your name to the petition, please provide proof of your qualification to practice law with your email. For example, if you are an Illinois attorney, you can send a link to the Illinois state bar's attorney database: http://www.iardc.org/ardcroll.asp. If you are a New York attorney, you can provide a link to this database: http://iapps.courts.state.ny.us/attorney/AttorneySearch.<br />Currently, Lawyers for 9/11 Truth is not engaging in any formal legal efforts as a group. Therefore, requests for legal assistance will probably go unanswered at this time.ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-39387584617004835292012-11-30T10:18:00.000-08:002014-02-14T18:30:45.113-08:00Defeating Anguish<div>
"And your creation or your resurrection is in no wise but as an individual soul: for Allah is He who hears and sees (All things)." The Nobel Qur'an (31:28)<br />
<br />
It was mentioned in my first published posting on this blog site, that I am a survivor of Mk-Ultra. Although that statement took less than ten seconds to type, the magnitude of the reality surrounding the facts of Mk-Ultra go beyond the capacity of measurement where the damages done to its living human subjects are concerned.<br />
<br />
I do not sharing my personal experiemces and pains because I feel sorry for myself. Self-pity, in my opinion, yields too much of ones' validity to the perpetrators who impose afflictions. There are of course days when my spirit descend into a woeful state and I experience the sensation of feeling detached and estranged from everything and everyone around me. But, a determined spirit coupled with rigorous exercise and prayer, emotional lows don't dominate too many of my days. There are also moments when in remembering some of the extreme abuses committed against me, that I stand in the mental disbelief that such callous and inhumane actions could have been enacted on a functioning human life.<br />
<br />
<strong></strong><strong></strong><br /></div>
ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-78812903492016367352012-11-29T13:44:00.000-08:002014-02-14T11:05:55.357-08:00Creative ExpressionWhat Writing Means to Me
The ability to express my voice and views through writing has afforded me the opportunity for self-development while indulging my need to have an interactive global theatre where I can release my opinions on subjects such as social justice, human rights, domestic violence, human trafficking and other such important global issues in today’s challenging society.
Since my early teens, I have been an active volunteer in a number of organizations starting with volunteering with hospital when I turned sixteen years old. Volunteer opportunities have allotted me a format where I improved and utilized my writing talent while expanding the concepts and principles, which I hold dear.
I have used my writing talents through volunteerism by creating fundraising letters, publicity releases, published news articles, and making solicited contribution to my faith-based newsletter.
Since early childhood, writing has given me a path for self-knowledge, self-expression and self-awareness. Writing being a core essential of which I am has been my companion during difficulties and joys. My talent has given me a place to go when there were no ears around to listen to my woes. I do not write exclusively in one genre, I have written a little poetry, news articles, fundraising solicitation letters and several creative
manuscripts. Since I view myself as a humanitarian, my writing serves a fundamental functioning tool in having a place and vital method where conveying my passions are concerned.
In early childhood I was forcefully separated from my biological family. That traumatic incident and the situation that followed constituted where and why I found my writing interest. As a young child isolated from the other children in the household where I lived, solitude and silence became the fertile soil where creativity germinated and where I learned to look inwardly, beyond self and where I learned that there was an existence beyond my own fears, confusions, uncertainties, sadness and fragility.
In the creative manuscript that I have completed, “From the Broken Glass to the Sheet of Ice,” I travel through the emotions of a young, six year old female child whose life took a sudden and drastic change. A child ripped from her biological family, her richly colorful and diverged culture, her gentile and privileged social stratagem and perhaps the most traumatic element of the experience, the intentionally and cruel techniques used to detached those memories; while, unknowingly, leaving nostalgic residues still swirled and dangled in the young girl’s mind like tantalizing bits of an animated fairy tale.
A fellow writer once asked me how I was able to so effectively get into the mind of a fictitious child. Several years ago, a journalist I
know, who as a favor, edited a few pages of the mentioned manuscript actually asked me if the child character in the manuscript was being channeled. I, of course, assured the editor that no such metaphysical or esoteric components were involved in the structuring and composing my novel.
One of the most gratifying elements of writing for me is when this ability yields a published news articles that addresses societal issues, which are important to me. While living in St. Louis, Missouri, I was asked to write an article regarding the, “Women in Black.” “Women in Black,” is a movement started by Israeli and Palestinian women who vigils monthly wearing only black garments to make a statement against the occupation in the West Bank and Gaza. Once the article was written and published, I received a phone call from the founder of the University City, Missouri chapter of WIB, Ms. Hedy Epstein, whose one word communication to me regarding the article was, “Powerful.”
Writing allows me the opportunity to put into a tangible format what otherwise might appear to be abstract reality. An example, of such self-expression can be found in the following phrase, which I wrote years ago, “At the time when I felt there would be no more
of me, there than was Thee.” That particular cathartic expression helped me to identify with and then to express the core that I am.
One way that writing is important in my life is how it demands of me self-challenge. On Friday, October 19th, 2012, I will attend a Presentation Luncheon titled, “Women’s Roll: Essential for Sustainable Peace and Security.” After attending this event, as a freelance writer, I will have the opportunity to write an article and submit it to a local publication that has published similar material written by me prior.
In addition, having the ability to chronicle such a socially pertinent event allows me the privilege to absorb the significance of the luncheon’s thesis then to contribute back to the broader community the presentation’s gist. Since the luncheon will occur while many individuals are working, a comprehensive published synopsis of the critical thesis assures that the general community at large will have the opportunity to benefit. Further for me, personally, in being able to make a creative contribute, I am not exclusively, merely, a sideline spectator for the passionate social issues that concern me; as well as not being simply a sideline viewer in my own life.
As life, void of a nine to five responsibility, has opened, seemingly more of the preciously item called time, I relish what becomes accomplishable with the advent of each day. Non-assigned time, permits me to look inwardly while asking the question, is my life still about goals and accomplishments? Each new day offers the opportunity through my writing to speak from the powerful position, which emits from the strength of being a survivor.
“The Accomplished Woman” my current work-in-progress brings with it the inspiration of how to preserve and honor the true self. The fact that I have endured suffering and exploitation yet somewhere, still exist within me the knowledge of the gifted woman who was subjected to the intentional disregard of her personal human rights, yet, still, miraculously maintained personal values and the propensity for social responsibility and justice.
Writing is important to me, as it has helped me to help others. I have received emails from individuals who have thanked me for starting my blog. Some of the blog’s postings have given some readers the courage needed to speak up regarding their prior abuses. When a survivor can reach out and connect with others they feel less isolated and this is a major component on the path of healing. I have a very positive attitude where life is concerned and I also get inspiration and motivation when I hear a survivor realize that all experiences of life happen for a reason. It is an insightfulness blessing and wisdom, which does not blame. <br />
<br />
I think it is a good idea to add the article, "Women in Black: A Momentum for Peace" with this post.<br />
<br />
Originally published in the, "Islamic Reflections 2002; Volume 15 issue 2; June 2002; page24<br />
<br />
Women in Black: A Momentum for Peace<br />
<br />
The strength of the human spirit daily faces challenges within the global theatre where intolerance, war, poverty, pornography, commercialized sex, and rape appear continuously on the international stage.<br />
<br />
The inter-exchangeable, interactive, repertoire performances of the agents against peace fester upon the pond of humanity, tarnishing its innate propensity toward peace.<br />
<br />
The Women in Black vigil started in Israel in 1988 and has had a vigil every week since inception. Silhouetted against a back drop of military occupation, suicide bombings and massive human rights abuses, stood a small group of Israeli and Palestinian women, who in silent vigil, protested Israel's Occupation of the West Bank and Gaza.<br />
<br />
The courageous advocates for peace faced harassment, physical threats, and family and community isolation while they defined their mission and advanced into the international arena. Now developed in the United States, England, Italy, Spain, Azerbaijan and in FR Yugoslavian, the silent vigil speak loquaciously; "Our Silence is Visible."<br />
<br />
We invite women to stand with us, reflect about themselves, and stand for all women who have been raped, tortured, or killed in concentration camps, women who have disappeared, or whose families have been killed, whose homes have been demolished, those who are refugees. Black is worn as a symbol to mourn all victims of war, the destruction of people's spirit and the natural fabric of life.ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-12201409364242809962012-11-29T13:23:00.000-08:002012-11-30T10:15:14.944-08:00The Acomplished WomanThe Accomplished Woman
The train ride into London from Cambridge, England on that pleasant spring day was quiet. I don’t recall
speaking to anyone when boarding, nor do I recall becoming engaged in conversation with others during
the hour-long trip. Although not giving at least casual acknowledgements to others as I journeyed through
a day was unusual for me, in the context of my personal reality, on that day, there was really nothing
usual…except the routine habit of purchasing a daily newspaper.
I had phoned ahead to the Iranian embassy prior to taking a major advancement forward where reclaiming
my life was concerned. Understandably, I felt the need to somehow feel out the atmosphere I was about to
enter. Of course, the thought passed through my mind: this would all be so much easier if only my uncle
were still alive. It was difficult to process the fact that I was planning to walk into a foreign embassy and
declare openly—to total strangers—the bold assertion that I was the niece of Iran’s most historically
prominent cleric, the Late Ayatollah Khomeini.
A week or so passed before I finally mustered the courage to pick up the telephone and set the
appointment for my first visit to the Iranian embassy. During that week, I could be seen pacing the
interior of the small suite I had rented. After conducting an intense internal survey, I found myself
experiencing self-doubt, self-incrimination, fear, apprehension, and confusion. At the same time, I began
to question my own self-worth and motives. Some of the reasonable and understandable questions
manifested:
Why are you subjecting yourself to what will probably been a humiliating experience?
What are you expecting to accomplish from this action? Should you be doing this?
The people at the embassy will probably think you are either opportunistic or unstable.
After all these years, you intend to just walk into a foreign embassy proclaiming a consanguinity
relationship with the Late Imam Khomeini? You don’t even know how many years it has been
since you were forced from your home. Come on!
A struggling rationale flowed:
In all actuality is there anyone left in Iran—or the world—who truly cares? You will probably be
walking into a closed door, an indifferent bureaucracy. Why on earth should the people in the
embassy care?
Then, again, the question arose: Why are you doing this?!
My enormous apprehensions were quickly put to ease when I was respectfully greeted on my first visit to
the embassy. I did not adhere to the tradition that a woman covers her head with a scarf on my first visit
to the embassy—which, in hindsight, wasn’t the most prudent thing to do. In not knowing what to expect
from the visit, I wanted to see what type of reaction I would receive at the embassy when I arrived void of
Hijab (the Islamic head covering worn by women).
When I entered the embassy’s reception area, I was greeted with politeness and directed to take a seat.
After a few minutes, the young woman at the reception desk smiled and made a slight gesture, indicating
with her right hand over her head, that I had not covered my head. I responded by acting as though I was
surprised or confused. As I vaguely recall, I shrugged my shoulders and mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
After thirty minutes or so, the very lovely and gracious receptionist offered me a beautiful headscarf.
While she presented the Hijab, she stated that the scarf was available to me, but only if I wanted to wear
it.
I smiled and thanked the receptionist, placed the Hijab on my head, and was about to be reseated when an
interior door leading from the reception area opened. A diplomat named Mr. Shahid stepped forward and
introduced himself. Once seated inside of Mr. Shahid’s office, I apologized for not having been covered
when I entered the embassy. He assured me that that was an inconsequential matter, offered me tea, and
made me feel comfortable and welcome.
For the next six to eight weeks, I visited the embassy once a week and spent at least one hour in
discussion with Mr. Shahid, exclusively on the subject of Islam. The conversations between this diplomat
and myself were confined to Islam for the first several weeks. The courage to bring up my being the niece
of the founder of the Islamic Revolution in Iran did not immediately flow from my lips, not even after a
number visits. As I mentioned earlier, I was apprehensive, uncertain, and concerned as to how my
admission would be received. Initially, when I phoned the embassy in my enquiry, I asked about Islam. I
told the person I spoke with that I had recently converted to Islam and wanted to learn more about the
religion. It may have seemed that my enquiry was a ruse since my major objective in making this
connection was to unite with my past; but actually, there was no ruse, since learning more about Islam
was a genuine secondary motive for visiting the embassy.
After a number of visits and discussions, I finally braved the question regarding the separation between
the Sunni and Shi’a perceptions of Islam. When answering, Mr. Shahid alluded to the political expediency
for the separation; since the answer appeared to satisfy me, that subject was never broached again.
͠
I had originally made the trip to London, England at the suggestion of a doctor who was treating me for
what he called “intermittent amnesia”, an euphemistic term used regarding a person who has been brutally
tormented though medical torture and mind control. How ironic that in that moment, on that day, the term
had placed a smile on my face and brought a bit of relief to my heart? After all, a two-word combination,
a title, a definition…had been given to the uncertainty, which surrounded my life at that time. I felt that
this intellect, this edifice, and this entity, which had been suspended and separated from its innate core,
now had a definition, an explanation, and then prayerfully, a path for healing and memory return. The fact
that a clinical association had been given to the state of my inner bewilderment, my memory loss,
energized vital deeply buried ambers that were in fact, a forgotten self.
During my first visits to the embassy, I did not realize, had not fully acknowledged, nor had not
remembered or accepted the fact that I was a survivor of a United States Government Human
Experimentation Program. I knew that something was wrong, something that I could not quite put a finger
on; but I knew that whatever it was, that something could no longer be ignored. After all, there were large
periods of times in my life that I could not remember or grasp. Still, somehow, within this devastating
reality, some very minute yet significant kernels of recollection inside me would occasionally stir, peak,
and attempt to reconnect to what had been intentionally severed memories.
As a survivor, to this date, I critically wonder how many medically unnecessary electroshock treatments
were administrated that could have caused a devoted mother to forget ever having given birth? What was
the hypnotic method implanted that blocked talents, instincts, drives, and spiritual acumen? Where is, or
what has happened, to the brilliant mind that had once been extended an invitation to become a MENSA
member? How is such inhumane brutality still possible?
Perhaps it was the third or fourth visit to Mr. Shahid;s office, on a Monday afternoon, when, after a
prolonged deep breath, I was able to state, “Mr. Shahid, there’s something I need to discuss with you.
Although, three weeks is not a lengthy amount of time for trust to develop between two strangers, I have
been treated with respect from the moment I first entered the embassy’s door. For this reason, some of my
apprehension has subsided, and my courage has begun to peak.” I explained that the constant cordiality
and warm atmosphere at the embassy loosened some of my fears. As a result, I realized that by delaying
the presentation of the primary purpose for my visits to the embassy, I was postponing what I so
desperately wanted to do: regain control of my own life. I further acknowledged that the longer I waited
to tell my truth, the more difficult it would become.
On that beautiful sunlit day in London, England, after accepting a second cup of offered tea in Mr.
Shahid’s windowless office of mahogany wood wall panels and furnishings, I looked Mr. Shahid directly
in his eyes and managed, “Mr. Shahid, let me preface what I am about to tell you by stating how much I
sincerely appreciate the time you have allotted to me these past few weeks. Furthermore, you have been
more than gracious while I have been treated with such respect and have felt so welcomed.” I smiled the
words, “…and the exceptional tea served to me during these visits should be a strong enough catalyst to
help ease my hesitations in what I need to discuss with you.” After a deep breath, and with an ingrained
composure not totally understood, the phrase, “I have reason to believe that I am the niece of the Late
Ayatollah Khomeini,” seeped from my lips.
Upon hearing my statement, Mr. Shahid did not flinch. He did not change the position of his posture, nor
did he stand in the gesture of having me ejected from the embassy. Instead, he calmly asked, “Would you
be willing to take a DNA test to that effect?” I immediately responded, “Of course I would. Can this be
done today?”
With a kind and cordial smile, he stated, “We don’t exactly keep DNA test kits here in the embassy, but
before we advance to that stage, I need to ask what you think we can do for you here at the embassy.”
“You can help me get custody of my minor daughter and help me to return to Iran.”
“Where your daughter is concerned, we can look into helping you; but regarding your returning to Iran, I
will start the paperwork for your visa right away.”
“I’ll need a visa to return to Iran?” I naively questioned with a look of surprise on my face.
“Your relationship to Iran is through a maternal lineage. It would be only through a paternal lineage that
you would have a right to citizenship. But let’s not get into such matters now. What is important to know,
though, is how long you plan to stay on this visit.”
“At least six months. I can’t imagine any time less being beneficial.”
“Would the requirement of wearing a Hijab be a problem for you?”
“Not at all,” I assured the diplomat. “I am accustomed to wearing a Hijab when I leave the house. I think
that my illogical reasoning for not wearing a scarf on the first visit was due to the fact that I did not know
what to expect. I was unsure of how I would be received, and I wanted to get a better feel of what I was
getting myself into.”
With a teasing smile on his handsome face, the diplomat sat with his back flushed against the back of the
chair, crossed his legs, and stated, “I cannot say that I exactly follow that logic.”
“Neither did I at that time, nor do I at this time.” I honestly confessed while observing the mental wheels
turning as Mr. Shahid attempted to process the Hijab tale.
A moment later, with a smile still visible, Mr. Shahid stood and excused himself for a few minutes. Upon
his return, he confided:
“I don’t know if this information will come as a surprise to you, but you probably have no idea how many
women have come through these doors over the years claiming to be you. An amazing number!”
emphasized the diplomat. “Each person who has presented herself to this embassy had a great deal of
information regarding you and your situation. There was one young woman who was so convincing that
we actually believed her. We were about to send her to Iran. Of course, this incident happened before the
current DNA test was developed. We were so sure of the woman’s identity that we sent for Imam
Khomeini. When Imam Khomeini arrived, he took one look at the woman and stated, ‘I don’t know who
this imposter is, but she is not my niece.’ He did not ask the woman any questions. He did not take one
step toward her; yet he somehow immediately knew that the woman wasn’t you.”
Since the diplomat was so comfortable with sharing this story with me and had asked about a DNA test, I
surmised that perhaps the test had already been taken. The cups of tea previously offered and accepted
could have been the vehicle whereby the test was processed. I, of course, did not mind that this test had
probably been administered. After all, the results of the test would be the proof of my exceptional
assertion.
The direction of our conversation lead me to inquire, “Mr.Shahid, did you know that Imam Khomeini
came to the United States before returning to Iran after the success of the revolution, and he wanted to
take me back to Iran with him?” After I posed the question, the young male attendant who served tea
during my weekly visits entered the room, refreshing my tea. I smiled toward him gratefully, not only for
the refreshed tea, but also for the moment needed to further contain my composure.
I looked directly into Mr. Shahid’s eyes and felt a little stunned by the memory. “How astonishing! How
amazing! How is it even possible that I had not thought about that excruciating night until now? Wow!
One of the most important people in my life suddenly reappeared into my life, and I totally forgot about
that night.”
Silence instantly took over the room. It was a necessary silence for me since in that moment, I attempted
to process the reality of my uncle’s death, the years of being forced from my own life, and my debilitating
memory loss. The scent of a perfectly brewed and exceptional tasting cup of tea, placed on an end table
next to me, grabbed the attention of my olfactory senses. Once I had taken several sips of tea, I was able
to continue.
“It was Christmas Eve. I was living in St. Louis, Missouri, which is in the United States. Like many
Christmas Eves before, I was planning to attend Midnight Mass with the individuals I had been led to
believe were my biological family. On that bitterly cold winter night, I had no idea that once I entered the
vestibule of the Catholic Church I would suddenly be faced with such a viable element of myself and of
my past. Upon entering the church, I overheard a male voice stating in a firm voice of authority, ‘I do not
believe what you are telling me, and I will never believe what you are saying unless I hear the words
directly from her mouth!’ He continued, ‘If what you are stating is true then why don’t you bring my
niece to me and let her tell me for herself that she wants nothing to do with me, her faith, or her past.’
After hearing these heated words, since I did not recognize the voice of the man speaking, I had no way of
knowing that the person being discussed was me.
When the other person in the conversation spoke, I recognized the voice and was very surprised to find
that person engaged in such a combative verbal exchange at church, especially on Christmas Eve. ‘I have
gained her trust,’ was the next string of words I heard from the male voice I recognized. ‘You must
understand that it’s because of that trust that she confided to me that she had rejected Islam, had accepted
Christianity, and that she had no desire or intentions of returning to Iran.’
I knew that the voice I had recognized was a member of local law enforcement, so I quickened my pace to
enter the church wanting to respect whatever was occurring in the vestibule. As I reached for an interior
door that led to the body of the church, I was surprised when the individual whose voice I knew stepped
forward from a dimly lit corner of the vestibule, blocking my entrance into the church.
In accordance with family tradition, the people that I unknowingly viewed as my biological family spent
Christmas Eve at the house of the eldest sister. Additionally, everyone dressed up for Midnight Mass. A
week or so before Christmas, the family stated that the decision to dress casually for Midnight Mass had
been made for the purpose of giving acknowledgement to the less fortunate. When I exerted the fact that I
had not voted on that decision, I was told that they all knew that I would not have voted to dress down
and that they did not need my vote since I had been outvoted. So it was in the appearance of everyday,
casual attire that entered the vestibule of the church that evening.
Naturally, I believed that my being blocked from entering the interior of the church was merely an action
to give me the opportunity to speak, so I smiled and said hello to the person preventing my entrance.
When my smile was not returned but instead was met with a stern, unfriendly face, I became perplexed
and immediately questioned why any type of altercation would be occurring in the church on one of the
holiest days on the Christian calendar. I also wondered how I could possibly be involved.
Because of the member of law enforcement who blocked me, I feared that something dangerous might be
happening. I was somewhat panicked when I looked at him and he gestured with his head for me to look
to the other end of the vestibule. Shockingly, there stood my uncle, the Ayatollah Khomeini. The
Ayatollah was dressed traditionally, but somehow, I instantly recognized him. The sudden and jolting
reconnection with my authentic past caused me to rapidly advance toward my uncle. As I approached this
cleric, I saw that a wide, caring, smile graced his face. The next words I heard came from Imam
Khomeini. He stated, ‘I thought you said that she had rejected Islam and wanted nothing to do with her
past?’”
As I began telling Mr. Shahid this story, I was not aware of how long I had been in his office. Had I been
in his office fifteen minutes or fifty minutes? That notion of time never entered my mind, and he never
looked at this watch.
I continued on with my story. “‘They said that you would not remember me,’ Imam Khomeini said, as I
attempted to further advance. The sight of his wide, radiant smile and glistening eyes let me know how
relieved and pleased my uncle was to see me.
That night, as I continued to approach Imam Khomeini, the law enforcement officer, whom I had so fully
respected and trusted to this point and time, placed one of his arms out, firmly stopping me from being
able to advance. ‘Well…’ he said with a smirk, ‘we thought that she didn’t remember anything regarding
her past. When we dangled you around her geographic space these past few days, she did not intuitively
pick up on the fact that you were near. That’s at least something regarding the effectiveness of the
electroshock and other methods we used on her. I briefly surmise that damage has been done to her
perceptional instincts. The fact that she did not know you were around these few days means that we have
dismantled some, if not all, of her propensities toward clairvoyance and spiritual acumen. Whatever
damage we’ve done, she has little or nothing left of her brilliance or talents to contribute to those nations
who reside outside our alliances.’
At this time, the mood in the church became very somber and intense. The law enforcement officer’s
indifferent and arrogant attitude and behavior continued once he stated, ‘I must admit that I was totally
surprised by the fact that she seems to remember you at all. We were under the impression that her mind
was completely amnesic where her past was concerned. What a revelation!’ he added sarcastically. ‘I
guess we just might have to start the electroshock treatments again. We nearly lost her a few times with
that technique, but since she obviously remembers something, more electroshock should reset the
amnesia.’
When I heard this callus statement presented with such malice, I looked again at my uncle and saw that
his smile had been replaced with a stern posture. ‘I had no idea that my niece had been caused to suffer
so, nor did I know that she was being held in such low regard,’ he stated empathically. A thought zipped
through my mind so rapidly that it almost went unnoticed and unrecorded…that thought being: You
should have known!
As we stood in the vestibule, the physical distance between my uncle and myself was less than twenty
feet, although the footage seemed monumental to me. As my uncle stepped forward, lessening the
distance, he stated, ‘I see no reason why any of this torment and insensitive treatment toward my niece
should continue. We might as well leave now,’ he said, as he extended his right hand to me. At that
moment, on that night, it was not humanly possible for me to process the reality of all the things that had
happened to me in my life to that point and time. I only knew that instinctually, innately, every cell of my
body had the strongest propensity to be as close to my uncle as possible. My body, mind, and spirit
longed to reconnect with a sense of being loved, valued, cherished, respected, and appreciated.
Next, I heard his firmly placed words, ‘I truly do not want my niece to be subjected to further violations
or denigration; so, since I have agreed to all of your unreasonable demands, there stands no mediating
reason why we shouldn’t just leave now.’
The negotiating member of law enforcement who stood in the vestibule like a diabolical rodent with a
satisfying grin on his face grabbed my right arm firmly and said, ‘There is one thing on the agreement that
you seem to have overlooked.’ The government spokesman then waved a piece of paper toward the
Imam. The young man who had accompanied the Imam stepped forward, reached for the paper, and gave
it to the Imam. After carefully reading the contents of the paper, the Imam shook his head and stated with
noticeable vocal anger, ‘What is this! We scrutinized the document given to us earlier thoroughly. This is
not the same document, nor are terms previously presented. Something has been added to the original
agreement, and I can’t go along with the addition. This addition was not a part of the original
negotiations.’
The government spokesman had a sinister look on his face and tightened his grip on my arm, causing me
discomfort. He stated, ‘Did you know that your beloved uncle played a role in your first kidnapping?’
At that moment, hearing those words, I instantly felt a deep concern for my uncle. Whatever was left of
Khomeini’s niece…whatever was left of my parents’ daughter…whatever was left of the woman who had
the right to be…somehow, I knew without a doubt that whatever my uncle had done—and for whatever
reason—he never meant for any harm to come to me.
For a few minutes, I cautiously stared at my uncle. I did not want to accelerate the uncertain situation, so I
slowly lowered my gaze. The swirling sense of betrayal I experienced in hearing one of the few people I
had trusted in this forced makeshift life, so coldly blurt out this possibly debilitating phrase caused me to
once again feel paralyzed emotions.
The next words I heard were from Imam Khomeini. ‘Did she possibly have that volatile information
before now? How could you? I never authorized such treatment. Did you give any consideration as to
how such information could affect her?’
With indifference, the spokesmen replied, ‘Instead of acting outraged, just sign the papers. That is all you
have to do, and she will be able to leave with you.’
‘I can’t do that,’ emitted the Imam with grave sadness in his voice. ‘The addition is the one thing that I
cannot put my signature on.’
After hearing those devastating words, like a dream trapped in a shrinking bottle, I realized that I would
not be able to leave with my uncle, and I shut down. There were no feelings of disappointment, fear, or
dread, even though I did momentarily wonder: Will they kill me now? Do they have any further reason to
keeping me alive? These questions flowed through me with no more emotion than a person questioning
what he would have for dinner that evening. Once the questions regarding my safety subsided, I felt
claustrophobic. A sudden sensation of being enclosed within an extremely narrow funnel hindered my
ability to breath. Like an embryo subjected to a physical lockdown, at that moment, I did not completely
exist.
The next very vague awareness for me in that church was hearing the Ayatollah instruct the young
companion standing next to him to accompany me into the interior of the building so that I would not be
able to see them leave. As the reticent and humble young man began to walk toward me, he was stopped.
The large Catholic Church had two sections of double doors which led to the interior of the church. I
attempted to enter through the doors closest to where my uncle was standing. I wanted to be able to
simply brush up against him, but was prohibited from doing so. Instead, I was led away like a wounded
animal into a selected pew of the church where the law enforcement officer’s family members were
seated. After all, he was now a member of the family I had been caused to believe was my biological
family. After being seated for a while, the spokesman sat down next to me. In the pew in front of where
we sat, I heard his six-year-old daughter softly and kindly state, ‘That’s not fair. They should not keep
Aunt Madaline away from her real family. Why are they doing that to her? She should be able to leave
with her uncle.’ Her words soon faded away just as the prior activities did. The cruel actions made against
me that evening caused my uncle’s next concern: ‘I sincerely pray that one day, she can understand that I
absolutely had no choice.’”
As I mentally transported myself back to the embassy, I could hear myself say, “I don’t remember the
exactness of what happened next, Mr. Shahid. I only know that, to this day, I don’t understand how I
survived that experience. I don’t understand how, when my uncle was caused to leave me behind in that
church that night, I did not completely crumble, experience a total mental breakdown, or dissipate.”
Mr. Shahid then leaned forward, securing my attention, and confirmed, “Not only did you survive that
encounter while remaining mentally stable, but look how far you’ve come. Look how far you have
come,” he repeated. “And with the magnitude of all you have endured, you accomplished coming here all
on your own. No one helped you get here, yet here you sit. It’s more than remarkable that you survived.”
“Have I truly survived, Mr. Shahid?” I confided.
“From where I sit, you have done so with much grace and dignity.”
Mr. Shahid then stood and apologetically stated, “Please forgive me. I am so sorry, but I have someone
waiting outside that has been here for nearly thirty minutes. Unfortunately, it’s not convenient for him to
reschedule at this time.” He opened his office door for me then said, “Before you leave, allow me to
mention how pleased your uncle would have been to know that you understood the impossible position in
which he had been placed.”
“Mr. Shahid, I understand that you have someone waiting outside, but do you happen to know what it was
that Imam Khomeini could not put his signature on? While I was still in the vestibule, the Imam stated
that he had made some exceptional concession…but there was a specific point that had been added to the
negotiations that was impossible for him to sign.”
“No, I don’t know the specifics, but I will attempt to locate that information since it seems important to
you. And if permitted, I will share it with you at the next visit.”
Before escorting me from his office, the diplomat asked if I was alright and in need of a car to take me to
the train. I assured this obviously concerned man that what I needed was a little time alone, adding that I
might take a walk in a nearby park. As I got closer to the front lobby door, when Mr. Shahid stated that he
would see me the following week; however, there appeared to be a tone of questioning in his statement.
͠
It is strange that of all the things forgotten or remembered in my life, one of the incidents that I most
vividly recall is a bee sting I received around the age of seven. The intense, almost paralyzing and
numbing pain inflicted by that unexpected painful encounter with the angered insect, was somehow in a
parallel sphere with my emotional state as I exited the embassy that day. Ironically, on that day, instead of
submitting to the propensity to take a healing walk through plush foliage, instead of merging my spirit
with the regenerative scents of freshly bloomed nature, instead of caressing the sights, sounds and the
majestic hues, I acquiesced to the damaged ethos of an Mk-Ultra survivor.
In bypassing the enticement of nature, I sat on the local bus that took me to the train, I stared out of the
window and noticed the botanical magnificence passing before my eyes. I instantly wondered why I had
not taken the walk. Moments later, I sat in wonder of whatever had happened to the spirit of the person
who, as a child, collected ladybugs on an index card then watched as the insect walked from the card to
her arm, just so she could feel the minute sensation of the tiny creature’s legs crawl up her arm. I sat
puzzled, wondering where the mimicking and playful follower of grasshoppers, the chaser of butterflies,
the taster of sunrise now resided.
͠
At my next visit to the embassy, Mr. Shahid greeted me not only with his usual charm and warmth, but
also with a glint in his caramel colored eyes. He wore the type of mischievous smile one might see on the
face of a child about to reveal a secret. Once I was comfortably seated in his office, he hurriedly stated,
“After your last visit, I suppose due to the weight of our conversation, I forgot to inform you that your
uncle left you an inheritance, adding that the sum was quite substantial under any monetary
consideration.”
The enthusiasm and excitement expected after hearing that a large sum of money had been willed to me
was not there. The stoic demeanor received by Mr. Shahid after his announcement of the monetary
benevolence seemed at first to confuse him, until I softly seeped, “I would much rather that my uncle
were still alive.”
Nodding in an empathic gesture, he concurred, “I can understand your sentiment.”
For a moment, after that exchange between the diplomat and myself, neither of us spoke. We sat in
silence, both mentally and emotionally. I recognized, and then inwardly acknowledged, an inherent need
to reconnect with my linage. I felt astonished at the fact that I had not remembered—nor thought about—
the event that had taken place in that church on that bitterly cold winter night in December since its
occurrence. This fact alone caused nausea.
How long the silence between the diplomat and myself continued that day, I cannot say. But I do vividly
remember what his next words to me were. He sat more relaxed than either one of us had been up until
that point. “You do realize that you have gotten to this point all on your own. Amazingly, no one has
helped you, and with all you have endured, here you sit.”
After hearing his words, I honestly felt no sense of accomplishment at that time. There was no sense of
achievement in having had endured physical and mental torture, emotional and sexual assaults, mind
boggling taunts, humiliation, and probably the most painful experience of having been separated from my
son. What I felt or experienced was a state of being partially anesthetized. There were no feelings of joy
or hopeful anticipation.
The continuation of my staid demeanor did alert Mr. Shahid to my dilemma; he, in acknowledgement of
that fact stated, “You have been separated from your family, and as far as that is concerned—from
yourself—off and on, for over twenty years now. Naturally, it will take a while for all of this to settle; but
in the meantime, by your next visit—or most certainly the one following—I will have all the paperwork
completed for your return to Iran.
͠
During my weekly visits to the embassy, this diplomat never once looked at a watch while I was seated in
his office. He never demonstrated boredom or impatience. He never caused me to feel that his status was
above mine. This reality contributed much to the strength that I finally mustered up…enough to revisit
my past. However, I should also give credit to the exceptional-tasting tea served.
While seated in this office, for the first time in years, I did not feel a sense of not belonging. And by being
treated with such kindness and respect, I indicated, “Mr. Shahid, before we go too much further, let me
state how much I appreciate the time you have allotted me during my weekly visit…”ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-61341328817582507102012-11-02T15:47:00.000-07:002014-01-29T12:50:19.888-08:00Honoring the True SelfIt is now August 23rd, 2012 which indicates that the year 2012 is more than half over. On this Thursday, I look inwardly and question if my life is still about goals and accomplishments. Since I am a survivor of one of history's most inhumane and brutal experimentation program, when it comes to the evaluation of my personal accomplishments I sometimes feel like a remote viewer. I wonder and question where is the woman, the person who existed prior to being subjected to vile and callous torment. Is it possible to reconstruct the undamaged self, the true self, the person who vivaciously strived prior to being dismantled and disassembled?
Currently, I am working on a creative project which I shall enter into a writer's contest which I have titled, "The Accomplished Woman." The inspiration for this manuscript is the fact that with all I have suffered and endured, somewhere, still, exist within me the acknowledge of the gifted woman who though subjected to extreme exploitation while experiencing brutal intentional disregard for my human rights miraculously maintained personal values and a propensity for social responsibility and justice.
ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-76477132586752811022011-12-13T21:58:00.001-08:002012-01-14T20:37:53.041-08:00The Courage to Expose Pain and Exploitations<strong>Never be without the remembrance <strong>of</strong> God, for His remembrance provides the bird of the spirit with strength, feathers, and wings.</strong>--<strong>The Sufi Path Of Love--The Spiritual Teaching of Rumi</strong>
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<br /><div>For a number of years now, I have been attempting to recovery blocked memories which were stagnated due to a United States Governmental human experimentation program, mainly, Mk-Ultra. A brutal medically unethical project which parallels other inhumane historical acts, such as; Slavery in America, American Indian genocides, the German holocaust and many other extreme inhumane actions. Although, I have survived and endured many traumas in my life, somehow, I still hesitate to expose my total truth; due to fear of ridicule, not being believed, embarrassment and humiliation.
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<br />The truthful episodes of my life include the hallowed and the hollowed. Somewhere, between the ages of five and six, I had been kidnapped. Prior to age seven, the age of reason, I had been taken away from a secure and loving family and environment. I had been removed from the cultural, religious, economic and social status in which I had been reared. Nevertheless, and despite these brutal actions, by my seventh year, a most exceptional and extraordinary event happened in my life; I experienced a vision of Christ.
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<br />A most magnificent and miraculous illumination to descend upon a child who had through Mk-Ultra, and techniques like hypnosis and psycho driving, been hollowed.
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<br />The protective self, the misaligned ego, the horror of the usurpation of the secular over the sacred.
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<br />I will share more of the fact of the vision in a future post. But for now let me share a short poem I wrote with you.
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<br /><em>An opened space in time, seconds not assigned, the moment freed, found the spirit bound, in mournful eternity</em>.</strong>
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<br />Thank all who visit my blog and may the New Year bring fulfilled dreams.
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<br />Blessings,
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<br />Maryam Ruhullah
<br />ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-38200397995719681422011-09-29T11:52:00.003-07:002012-03-19T00:00:48.454-07:00The Shed"Inch Worm, Inch Worm, measuring the Marigolds you and your arithmetic you'd probably to far. Inch worm, inch worm measuring the marigolds seems to me you'd stop and see how beautiful they are."<br /><br />It was summer. A day of play and ease. I had heard often from neighbours, from the adults in the household where I lived at the time, "they really should cut down that unused shed, it's a danger, it's not safe."<br /><br />I guess I will always wonder why the adults, the neighbours, the members of the block union did not follow through on the concern, the hunch to have the vacant shed torn down.. A streetcar track ran between and separated the blocks of Kensington Place and McMillion Street, in this primarily,residential neighbour. The fact of a storage shed once owned by a family who had recent moved away, still stood, lurked about like a fathom.<br /><br />"Boy! I wish they would tear down that old shed" I once heard one of the children of the area say. "After all, ghost might hang out there or something worse."<br /><br />The amazement or the nostalgia of a community which had never been touched by tragedy parallels that of a venerable utopia. The crimes and horrors heard on the nightly news were events that always, I surmised, always, happened somewhere else.<br /><br />There was a four family flat directly across the street from the single family house where I lived. It was alright with the neighbourhood that a non-single family dwelling was situated in the center of the block on this almost exclusive single family housing area. Since the occupants of the flat worked in semi-professional occupations, they were accepted. With three of the ladies occupants being school teachers and their husband's worked in various fields like aircraft mechanics or steel mill workers, they were not snubbed, after all, they were respectable church goers. Historically, the same family had lived in the mentioned flat for two generations now. So, when the unexpected death of the patriarch of the family caused his wife to move with her sister, everyone assumed that the tradition of renting only to their family members' would be sustained.<br /><br />The Harrison family owned the flat and had not rented to anyone not a family member since the structure had been built. In this close knit neighborhood everyone was somewhat like family. Everyone in the 4700 block of Kensington Place knew the other neighbor's on a first name exchange. There was very little visiting in and out of neighbour's home; but neighbours always, I mean always. spoke and exchanged pleasantries on chance meetings.<br /><br />When the new neighbours moved in, no welcoming committee greeted them. After all, this was the first time someone not known by someone else in the community had moved into this community for over twenty years.<br /><br />The woman of the new family did not work outside of the home and the husband was in maintenance. They had one child, a daughter and she was perhaps eight or nine. It was rumored that the husband worked more than one job and was rarely at home. I heard that the late Mr. Harrison had been the new neighbour's supervisor while developing a friendship and feeling a little sorry for the cordial man. It was said that Mr. Harrison had told his wife that the man had never gotten a break in life and wanted to move into a neighbourhood where his daughter would be able to attend a good school. Furthermore, it was told that the man one day mentioned to the tender hearted Mr. Harrison, that people did not think that a man who cleaned toilets and mopped floors had dreams. It was reported that Mr. Harrison promised the down-trotted man that if ever a place in his flat became available, he would have an opportunity to move his family into a better neighbourhood. Probably, Harrison never believed there would be an opening in his building, but, still, life's full of the unpredictable.<br /><br />Consequently, when the humble janitor one day appeared on the door step of the widow Harrison, espousing his respect and admiration for her late husband while sharing his ambition for creating a better life for his family, that staging seemed to have been the catalyse needed by Mrs. Harrison to move with her also widowed sister who had been pleading for her company. Displeased with the decision, the community words were. "Well, we will have to keep a close watch on that new family," so decided the block union board members as well. <br /><br />Not surprisingly, the new family never really passed the acceptability test. The decision was made and upheld not to invite the young eight year old girl to the Watkins' weekly, homemade ice cream party, after all, too little was known about the family and especially since a man had started visiting the household often while the head of the household was not at home.<br /><br />When it was later learned that the frequent male visitor was the husband's brother, the party invitation was still withheld when a second questioned rose retarding,why the brother had so much time on his hands since he was seen visiting during the day. as well as late evening. How it was learned that the brother worked as a independent handyman and wanting to make sure that his sister-in-law and niece were safe and doing okay in the new neighbourhood, his frequent appearances did not cause fewer questions.<br /><br />How is it that close consanguinity shame can often sinks deeper than that of the perpetrators? Could that factor hinge on previous denial. The internal mental batting away of obvious facts and signs. The escaped phrases which do not retract like the slivering snake's tongue, "My brother could never do the things of which he was accused. His so good with my daughter. He could never hurt a child."<br /><br />After the new neighbours had been in the community for six months or a little longer, unusual things began to happen, in this traditionally predictable neighbourhood. The Parkers' pedigree Afghan Hound was nowhere to be found one evening when they arrived home. Bill Johnson's prized Motobecane Fly mountain bike was not in his unlocked backyard storage unit the weekend of an amateur race. At first, it just seemed too easy to blame the neighbour's brother; but what was the other rationale. <br /><br />An emergency block union meeting was called when the Smith's lawnmower along with the O'Neil's most adorable Coton de Tutear puppy vanished. Of course, the children of the neighbour were never told what was discussed at the meeting. Unless, somehow, something was over heard by curious little ears. The only thing known by those who became the most affected by the new neighbour's sibling threat was the feeling of totally powerlessness mingled with fear.<br /><br />I, for one, suddenly, without fully realizing the fact, began to quicken my gait when returning from the corner candy store with my daily purchase of a Hostess cupcake. When the Stevenson's pet collie, Colonel, the neighbourhood children's favored pet, one afternoon was not to be found, Kensington Place became forever changed. Like, an undetected slow leak, gradually, the standards of the community changed and deflated. After the brutal rapes one day of three elementary school girls in the vacant shed, the previous question of whose responsibility it was to tear down the storage facility was never asked again. <br /><br />The powerless often suffer from the procrastination and indifference of those in the position of decision-making and authority. It is not acceptable that daily humankind must lives with invisible stingers. These stingers being criminal injustices such as, plausible deniability, for reason of national security, and the arrogance which refuses to answer for its crimes. <br /><br />Maryam Ruhullah<br /><br />"I do not wish to treat friendships daintily, but with roughest courage. When they are real, they are not glass threads or frostwork, but the solidest things we know. For now, after so many ages of experience, what do we know of nature, or of ourselves? Not one step has man taken toward the solution of the problems of his destiny." Ralph Waldo Emersonruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-61980365561932348492011-09-25T22:32:00.000-07:002011-09-28T13:24:24.087-07:00AcknowledgementOur inner strengths, experiences, and truths cannot be lost, destroyed, or taken away. Every person has an inborn worth and can contribute to the human community. We all can treat one another with dignity and respect, provide opportunities to grow toward our fullest lives and help one another discover and develop our unique gifts. We each deserve this and we all can extend it to others. <br />Mark Twain quotes <br /><br />A primary objective when creating this blog was to raise awareness regarding<br />one of the most intellectually invasive crimes against personal freedom, that being Mk-Ultra. When I stepped forward in an attempt to find justice elements not considered were the severity of exposing self to insensitivity and ridicule. Mk-Ultra is one of the most defacing and humiliating realities an individual could ever face. Your personal sense of self–awareness is depleted, your core drives are blocked and innate instincts are dulled and subjugated. The unwitting subject of human experimentation who experiences forced subjugation of innate drives, propensities, talents and spiritual acumen becomes a mentally caged prisoners.<br /><br />I currently realize that although I am looking for acknowledgement from the United States Government regarding my unwitting involvement in Mk-Ultra, I must also admit to myself that I am no longer capable of accessing and expressing my own talents. I can not practice law nor can I pick-up a phone and call my children or friends. I take action daily attempting to get my rights and life returned to me. At this time, I want to stop and give thanks to a radio talk show host, Mr. Stephen Lendman who allowed me to be a guest on his Progressive Radio Show. <br /><br />Steve Lendman published an article regarding the upcoming show several days prior to the show. Please find below the said article and know that although the show occurred over a year ago, due to the article my story reached a wide audience. Due to the mentioned article my pens name: Maryam Ruhullah can be Googled and the article written by Stephen Lendman can still be accessed.<br /><br /><br />MK-ULTRA Victim Maryam Ruhullah<br /><br />This writer will interview Ruhullah and Dr. James Randall Noblitt, a licensed psychologist, on The Progressive Radio News Hour (on The Progressive Radio Network), February 18 at 10AM US Central time to discuss MK-ULTRA, Ruhullah's experience and Noblitt's work with survivors of extreme abuse and individuals afflicted with identity dissociation. Noblitt is a Professor at the California School of Professional Psychology and Chair of the International Society of Trauma and Dissociation Ritual Abuse/Mind Control Interest Group.<br /><br />The program will be archived for later listening.<br /><br />As an MK-ULTRA victim, Ruhullah's memory was impaired and somewhat still is because of what she experienced. She explained it as follows.<br /><br />In the early 1970s, she lived in Boston, MA, was married with a six-year old son, and as a lawyer worked for a prestigious firm, its name she can't remember. "One day, two federal agents came to (her) home unannounced," asking her to be a federal witness against an alleged organized crime figure. For her safety, they explained, she'd be placed in protective custody for a period not exceeding six months. She was asked to leave her family and job immediately, and say nothing to her husband and employer.<br /><br />She "was forced to leave (her) home with the agents that day." She got no choice, and "was treated more like a prisoner than a witness." She couldn't use the phone or communicate with anyone, was transfered frequently, and held in "very low budget places," during which time her life "became a succession of abuses and exploitations."<br /><br />"To this day," she says, she doesn't know precisely "when or why the government decided to use" her for MK-ULTRA experimentation, "but one day (she) was a mother, wife, and attorney, then, (later) had no memory of (her) past."<br /><br />Having partly recovered it, she recalls "being given non-medically necessary electro-shock treatments. This was done to create amnesia (to block her) core personality and replac(e) it with" only need-to-know information.<br /><br />She remembers "that the shock treatment given (her) was so severe and often that one day something happened and" she wasn't returned to her room. She now speaks of "an unbelievable long list of horrid exploitations and inhumane abuses" done to her.<br /><br />In the late 1980s, fragments of her memory returned. She sought information on her case through an FOIA request, but was told no records were found. From 1992 - 1996, no one helped her until a member of B'nai Brith, Stephanie Suleiman, offered to do so but needed a few weeks to complete other work.<br /><br />When Ruhullah recontacted her, she learned that "this thirty-two year old mother of two died of a heart attack," very suspicious given her age.<br /><br />Ruhullah also explains that federal agents stopped communicating with her. Her experiences were "totally removed from the public record," and she went from "being a missing person to becoming a person erased." She's now divorced and unable to contact her children and former friends. "The US government does not want (her) story told."<br /><br />She adds that the "only way (she) can measure (her) length of time held (is) by her son's age. (He) was six when (agents) entered (her) home, and he is (now) in his late thirties." She considers herself to have been continuously separated from her children, grandchildren, family, friends, assets, memories, and educated skills.<br /><br />She calls each day "an experience of being held against (her) will while living in a vat of bureaucratic arrogance which refuses to acknowledge what was done (made worse by stopping (her) from getting (her) life back." Each day she's "being more injured and having more of (her) life robbed from" her.<br /><br />She says she "was not released from custody." After being used for medical experiments, she was "given an implanted false identity, then left penniless and without proof of (her) true identity or lineage." She still considers herself a prisoner, a body with no persona, with little knowledge of her former self, stripped of everything important in her life.<br /><br />MK-ULTRA and Ruhullah's story will be featured on the Progressive Radio News Hour on February 18 at 10AM US Central time on The Progressive Radio Network. Listen live or later through archives.<br /><br />Stephen Lendman is a Research Associate of the Centre for Research on Globalization. He lives in Chicago and can be reached at lendmanstephen@sbcglobal.net.<br /><br />Also visit his blog site at sjlendman.blogspot.com and listen to the Lendman News Hour on RepublicBroadcasting.org Monday - Friday and The Progressive Radio News Hour Thursdays and weekends for cutting-edge discussions with distinguished guests on world and national issues. All programs are archived for easy listening.<br /><br />posted by Steve Lendman @ 3:11 AM<br /><br />Thanks those of you who follow my blog.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Maryam Ruhullahruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8481673037906412955.post-82996395750292088852011-07-06T14:45:00.000-07:002011-08-28T17:43:19.690-07:00The Statute of LimitationGod Listens not to your words save when He Himself utters them through your lips.
<br />By Kahlil Gibran in the Prophet
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<br /><div>On this seemingly uneventfully summer day, some of the children of this diverse middle to upper middle class professional neighborhood could be seen on bicycles, playing hopscotch, jacks, dodged ball or the favored game of many children, hide and seek. It was now several months into summer break when, due to restless energy, two older boys from the less prestigious side of the community decided to challenge boys from the more affluent area to a weekly bicycle race.
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<br /><div>Although the boys of a lesser god from locations like Kensington Street, McMillion Avenue and Walton Drive did not believe that the boys from the private avenues such as Lewis Place, Westminster Lane or Fountain Terrace would accept the challenge; they were competitive surprised and excited when their skepticism proved incorrect. </div>
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<br /><div>The area of town where the race was to take place was situated within walking distance of four local hospitals. That fact accounted for the rigid social stratagem which separated doctor's children from the children of families of a lower hierarchy. Traditionally, children of the more affluent residents never socialized with the children of a lesser tier, until the advent and orchestration of the weekly race.
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<br />This robust race soon connected children within a five mile radius while the competition began to take on its own momentum and purpose.
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<br />On a rich brightly lite summer morning, the first day of what was soon to become the infamous race, as the boys from the higher end streets arrived, simultaneously, on their shinny, seemingly new, Primos, Battaglins, Pinarellos and Focuses; also travel were an array of other expensive and impressive two wheeled vehicles. Then, when, in meeting, a succession of exaltation's like; "Wow, unbelievable, awesome," instantaneously, the proverbial ice was melted.
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<br /><div>In the affluent residential area of town, the rigid social stratagem was religious adhered too, except on the day of the bike race. The children of doctors associated exclusively with other kids of like parental hierarchy.
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<br />It was in such a neighbour, on a lovely summer day, that two men who were alleged members of organized crime, crept into this neighborhood of naivete and in front of four children killed a three month old child. The infant's mother was also a witness to this horrific crime. The criminal action against this child, or more precisely, this infant, that caused its death was a cruel and intentional murdered.
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<br />Statute of Limitation or Ripley's believe it or not. As a child, even when I heard the words, I had no idea what mafia or organized crime meant. The two men who where in the home of Calvin and Dovie Johnson on ,that, what appeared as an, ordinary summer day, were very versed on the topic of the Statute of Limitation. In all of the fifty states within the United States there is no Statute of Limitation on murder. Although, it is significantly appropriate, that murderers will always be held accountable for their crimes. Yes, it is very significant that no time limit for taking a killer to trial is set, yet when the intentional killing of a three month old infant is committed; it's too bad that the stature can not extend into some portion of eternity.
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<br />Freddie Mae Richard, mother of the infant, had been attempting to become a mother for over four years. One would never know this fact as she could always be seen with a wide smile on her fact and a quick step. One day as I was walking home from the candy store, she stopped me, stating, "don't be afraid, my pastor told me to do this." She then placed her right hand on my right forearm for a few minutes. She then closed her eyes for a while and prayed. Following, she smiled, gave me a huge hug and walked back across the street to her house. </div>
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<br /><div>Three months after the birth of her first and only child, the infant was killed by members of the mafia and the only reason given for this brutal act was that some, "THEY," did not want any person of spiritual acumen to advance into public awareness. Believe it or not, that was the only explanation cited for cruel crime.</div>
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<br /><div>Freddie Mae and her husband divorced years later but the last time I saw her, she still wore that infectious, never ending smile.</div>
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<br /><div>As the correlation between the Statute of Limitation and Ripley's Believe It or Not, continues, years later, due to Mk-Ultra one of the children who witnessed the murder confessed to the crime. The infant's mother vehemently stated that the person who confessed had nothing to do with her daughter's death but the infamous, "THEY's," the engineers of project like MKULTRA value no ones rights or life.</div>
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<br /><div>Statute of limitations
<br />From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
<br />Jump to: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/#mw-head">navigation</a>, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/#p-search">search</a>
<br />A statute of limitations is an <a title="Statute" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Statute">enactment</a> in a <a title="Common law" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_law">common law</a> <a title="Legal system" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legal_system">legal system</a> that sets the maximum time after an event that legal proceedings based on that event may be initiated. In <a title="Civil law (legal system)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civil_law_(legal_system)">civil law</a> systems, similar provisions are typically part of the <a title="Civil code" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Civil_code">civil code</a> or <a title="Criminal code" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Criminal_code">criminal code</a> and are often known collectively as periods of prescription.
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<br />Common law legal system might have a statute, for example, limiting the time for prosecution of a debt or <a title="Crime" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crime">crimes</a> designated as <a title="Misdemeanor" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Misdemeanor">misdemeanors</a> to two years after the offense occurred. Under such a statute, if a person is discovered to have committed a misdemeanor three years earlier, the time has expired for the person to be prosecuted. While it may seem unfair to forbid prosecution of crimes that law enforcement can later prove to a <a title="Legal burden of proof" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Legal_burden_of_proof">standard required by law</a> (cf., e.g., <a title="Beyond a reasonable doubt" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beyond_a_reasonable_doubt">Beyond a reasonable doubt</a>, <a title="Clear and convincing evidence" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clear_and_convincing_evidence">Clear and convincing evidence</a>, and <a title="Preponderance of the evidence" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Preponderance_of_the_evidence">Preponderance of the evidence</a>), the purpose of a statute of limitations or its equivalent is to ensure that the possibility of punishment for an act committed long ago cannot give rise to either a person's incarceration or the criminal justice system's activation. In short, unless the crime is exceptionally heinous in nature (such as murder where there generally is no statute of limitations), social justice as enacted through law says that lesser crimes from long ago are best left alone so as not to distract attention from more serious crimes.
<br />[<a title="Edit section: Reasons for statutes of limitation" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=2">edit</a>] Reasons for statutes of limitation
<br />One reason is that, over time, evidence can be corrupted or disappear, memories fade, crime scenes are changed, and companies dispose of records. The best time to bring a lawsuit is while the evidence is not lost and as close as possible to the alleged illegal behavior. Another reason is that people want to get on with their lives and not have legal battles from their past come up unexpectedly. The injured party has a responsibility to quickly bring about charges so that the process can begin.
<br />Limitations periods begin when a cause of action is deemed to have arisen or when a plaintiff had reason to know of the harm, rather than at the time of the original event. This distinction is significant in cases in which an earlier event causes a later harm (e.g., a surgeon negligently operates on a patient, who subsequently suffers the consequences of that negligence years later).
<br />In a related concept, contracts may also have a term under which they may be the basis of a suit, and after which a <a title="Plaintiff" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Plaintiff">plaintiff</a> is held to have waived any right to claim. Under Article VI of the <a title="United States Constitution" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Constitution">United States Constitution</a>, private contracts cannot be abridged; this provision has been held by the <a title="United States Supreme Court" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Supreme_Court">United States Supreme Court</a> to mean that the federal government or a State can only vitiate a contract if it directly opposes an important public policy. Similarly, the <a title="Charter of Fundamental Rights" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charter_of_Fundamental_Rights">Charter of Fundamental Rights</a>, codified into law applicable to <a title="European Union" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/European_Union">European Union</a> countries by the passage civil <a title="Lawsuit" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lawsuit">lawsuit</a>, is said to have accrued when the event beginning its time limitation occurs. Sometimes it is the event itself that is the subject of the suit or prosecution (such as a crime or personal injury), but it may also be an event such as the discovery of a condition one wishes to redress, such as discovering a defect in a manufactured good, or in the case of controversial "<a title="Repressed memory" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Repressed_memory">repressed memory</a>" cases where someone discovers memories of childhood <a title="Sexual abuse" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sexual_abuse">sexual abuse</a> long afterwards.
<br />[<a title="Edit section: Statute of repose" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=3">edit</a>] Statute of repose
<br />An idea closely related, but not identical, to the statute of limitations is a <a title="Statute of repose" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Statute_of_repose">statute of repose</a>. A statute of repose limits the time within which an action may be brought and is not related to the accrual of any cause of action; the injury need not have occurred, much less have been discovered. Unlike an ordinary statute of limitations, which begins running upon accrual of the claim, the period contained in a statute of repose begins when a specific event occurs, regardless of whether a cause of action has accrued or whether any injury has resulted. This often applies to buildings and properties, and limits the time during which an action may lie based upon defects or hazards connected to the construction of the building or premises. An example of this would be that if a person is <a title="Electric shock" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Electric_shock">electrocuted</a> by a wiring defect incorporated into a structure in, say, 1990, a state law may allow his heirs to sue only before 1997 in the case of an open (patent) defect, or before 2000 in the case of a hidden defect. Statutes of repose can also apply to manufactured goods. Manufacturers contend they are necessary to avoid unfairness and encourage consumers to maintain their property. Consumer groups argue that statutes of repose on consumer goods provide a disincentive for manufacturers to build durable products and to notify consumers of product defects as the manufacturers become aware of them. Consumer groups also argue that such statutes of repose disproportionately affect <a title="Poverty" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Poverty">poorer people</a>, since they are more likely to own older goods.
<br />[<a title="Edit section: Expiry" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=4">edit</a>] Expiry
<br />Once the time allowed for a case by a statute of limitations runs out, if a party raises it as a defense and that defense is accepted, any further litigation is foreclosed. Most jurisdictions provide that limitations are <a title="Tolling (law)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tolling_(law)">tolled</a> under certain circumstances. Tolling will prevent the time for filing suit from running while the condition exists. Examples of such circumstances are if the aggrieved party (plaintiff) is a minor, or the plaintiff has filed a <a title="Bankruptcy" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bankruptcy">bankruptcy</a> proceeding. In those instances, in most jurisdictions, the running of limitations is tolled until the circumstance (i.e., the injured party reaches majority in the former or the bankruptcy proceeding is concluded in the latter) no longer exists.
<br />There may be a number of factors that will affect the tolling of a statute of limitations. In many cases, the discovery of the harm (as in a <a title="Medical malpractice" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Medical_malpractice">medical malpractice</a> claim where the fact or the impact of the doctor's mistake is not immediately apparent) starts the statute running. In some jurisdictions the action is said to have not accrued until the harm is discovered; in others, the action accrues when the malpractice occurs, but an action to redress the harm is tolled until the injured party discovers the harm.
<br />As discussed in <a title="Arthur Alan Wolk v. Walter Olson (page does not exist)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Arthur_Alan_Wolk_v._Walter_Olson&action=edit&redlink=1">Wolk v. Olson</a>, the discovery rule does not apply to mass-media publications such as newspapers and the Internet; the statute of limitations begins to run at the date of publication.
<br />An action to redress a <a title="Tort" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tort">tort</a> committed against a minor is generally tolled in most cases until the child reaches the age of majority. A ten-year-old who is injured in a car accident might therefore be able to bring suit one, two, or three years after he turns 18.
<br />It may also be inequitable to allow a defendant to use the defense of the running of the limitations period, such as the case of an individual in the position of authority over someone else who intimidates the victim into never reporting the wrongdoing, or where one is led to believe that the other party has agreed to suspend the limitations period during good faith settlement negotiations or due to a fraudulent misrepresentation.
<br />Generally speaking, in the case of private, civil matters, the limitations period may be shortened or lengthened by agreement of the parties. Under the <a title="Uniform Commercial Code" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uniform_Commercial_Code">Uniform Commercial Code</a> the parties to a contract for sale of goods may reduce the limitations period to not less than one year but may not extend it.
<br />Although such limitations periods generally are issues of law, limitations periods known as <a title="Laches (equity)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laches_(equity)">laches</a> may apply in situations of <a title="Equity (law)" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equity_(law)">equity</a> (i.e., a judge will not issue an <a title="Injunction" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Injunction">injunction</a> if the party requesting the injunction waited too long to ask for it). Such periods are not clearly defined and are subject to broad <a title="Judicial discretion" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judicial_discretion">judicial discretion</a>.
<br />For U.S. military cases, the <a title="Uniform Code of Military Justice" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Uniform_Code_of_Military_Justice">Uniform Code of Military Justice</a> states that all charges except for those facing general <a title="Court martial" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Court_martial">court martial</a> (where a <a title="Death sentence" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_sentence">death sentence</a> could be involved) have a five-year statute of limitation. This statute changes once charges have been prepared against the service member. In all supposed UCMJ violations except for those headed for general court martial, should the charges be dropped, there is a six-month window in which the charges can be reinstated. If those six months have passed and the charges have not been reinstated, the statutes of limitation have run out.
<br />[<a title="Edit section: Prescription" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=5">edit</a>] Prescription
<br />In civil law countries and the U.S. State of <a title="Louisiana" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Louisiana">Louisiana</a>, almost all lawsuits must be started within a legally determined period. If they are presented after that time, an institution called prescription applies, which prevents them from filing the case.
<br />For criminal cases, this means that the public prosecutor must prosecute within some time limit. The time limit varies from country to country, and increases with seriousness of the alleged crime (for example, in most jurisdictions, there is no statute of limitations for <a title="Murder" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murder">murder</a>). When a time limit is suspended, it does not run (akin to hitting "Stop" on a <a title="Stopwatch" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stopwatch">stopwatch</a>). Common triggers include the defendant being on the run. When a time limit is interrupted, it is restarted (like hitting "Reset" on a <a title="Stopwatch" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stopwatch">stopwatch</a>). This may be triggered by a new crime committed.
<br />If a criminal is on the run, he can be convicted <a title="In absentia" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In_absentia">in absence</a>, in order to prevent prescription, or the time limit does not elapse during that time.
<br />The prescription must not be confused with the need to prosecute within "a reasonable delay", an obligation imposed by the <a title="European Court of Human Rights" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/European_Court_of_Human_Rights">European Court of Human Rights</a>. Whether the delay is reasonable or not, will depend on the complexity of the trial and the attitude of the suspect.
<br />[<a title="Edit section: Exclusions" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=6">edit</a>] Exclusions
<br />[<a title="Edit section: Fraud upon the court" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=7">edit</a>] Fraud upon the court
<br />In the United States, when an <a title="Officer of the court" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Officer_of_the_court">officer of the court</a> is found to have fraudulently presented facts to court so that the court is impaired in the impartial performance of its legal task, the act, known as "fraud upon the court", is a crime deemed so severe and fundamentally opposed to the operation of justice that it is not subject to any statute of limitation.
<br />Officers of the court include: Lawyers, Judges, Referees, and those appointed; Guardian Ad Litem, Parenting Time Expeditors, Mediators, Rule 114 Neutrals, Evaluators, Administrators, special appointees, and any others whose influence are part of the judicial mechanism.
<br />"Fraud upon the court" has been defined by the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals to "embrace that species of fraud which does, or attempts to, defile the court itself, or is a fraud perpetrated by officers of the court so that the judicial machinery can not perform in the usual manner its impartial task of adjudging cases that are presented for adjudication". Kenner v. C.I.R., 387 F.3d 689 (1968); 7 Moore's Federal Practice, 2d ed., p. 512, ¶ 60.23
<br />In Bullock v. United States, 763 F.2d 1115, 1121 (10th Cir. 1985), the court stated "Fraud upon the court is fraud which is directed to the judicial machinery itself and is not fraud between the parties or fraudulent documents, false statements or perjury. ... It is where the court or a member is corrupted or influenced or influence is attempted or where the judge has not performed his judicial function --- thus where the impartial functions of the court have been directly corrupted."
<br />[<a title="Edit section: International crimes" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=8">edit</a>] International crimes
<br />By way of custom of <a title="International law" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_law">international law</a>, <a title="Genocide" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Genocide">genocide</a>, <a title="Crimes against humanity" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crimes_against_humanity">crimes against humanity</a>, and <a title="War crimes" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_crimes">war crimes</a> are usually not subject to statute of limitations, nor to prescription. This custom has been codified in a number of multilateral <a title="Treaty" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Treaty">treaties</a>. States that ratify the <a title="Convention on the Non-Applicability of Statutory Limitations to War Crimes and Crimes Against Humanity" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Convention_on_the_Non-Applicability_of_Statutory_Limitations_to_War_Crimes_and_Crimes_Against_Humanity">Convention on the Non-Applicability of Statutory Limitations to War Crimes and Crimes Against Humanity</a> agree to not allow limitations claims for these crimes. Article 29 of the <a title="Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rome_Statute_of_the_International_Criminal_Court">Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court</a> states that genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes "shall not be subject to any statute of limitations".
<br />[<a title="Edit section: Heinous crimes in the U.S." href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=9">edit</a>] Heinous crimes in the U.S.
<br />Crimes that are considered exceptionally heinous by society have no statute of limitations. As a rule, there is no statute of limitations for murder, especially capital or first-degree murder.
<br />[<a title="Edit section: Continuing violations doctrine" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=10">edit</a>] Continuing violations doctrine
<br />In <a title="Tort" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tort">tort</a> law, if a defendant commits a series of illegal acts against another person, or, in criminal law, if someone commits a continuing crime (like molesting a child over a long period of time, which can be charged as a single offense), the period of limitation may begin to run from the last act in the series. In the <a title="United States Court of Appeals for the Eighth Circuit" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States_Court_of_Appeals_for_the_Eighth_Circuit">8th Circuit</a> case of Treanor v. MCI Telecommunications, Inc., the court explained that the continuing violations doctrine "tolls [i.e freezes] the statute of limitations in situations where a continuing pattern forms due to [illegal] acts occurring over a period of time, as long as at least one incident . . . occurred within the limitations period".<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/#cite_note-0">[1]</a> However, in the United States, there has been doctrinal confusion in the courts regarding whether or not the continuing violations doctrine applies to particular violations. For example, the continuing violations doctrine has been ruled to apply to <a title="Copyright infringement" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Copyright_infringement">copyright infringement</a> per Taylor v. Meirick 712 F.2d 1112, 1119 (7th Cir. 1983), but has been ruled to not apply per Stone v. Williams, 970 F.2d 1043, 1049-50 (2d Cir. 1992). <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/#cite_note-1">[2]</a>
<br />· [<a title="Edit section: See also" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Statute_of_limitations&action=edit&section=11">edit</a>] See also in Ire</div>
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<br />Peace,
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<br />Maryam Ruhullah
<br />ruhullahahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17693205002793697679noreply@blogger.com0