Tuesday, 24 February 2015


Our Lord is
He Who gave to each
(Created) thing its form
And nature, and further,
Gave (it) guidance.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.   

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.

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.

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. 

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.

I was not the neglected child of privilege.  Neither, my parents' ambitions nor their accomplishments waned attention or guidance toward me. 

Then, suddenly, abruptly, callously, the snatching.

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.'"

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. 

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.

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.

Monday, 15 December 2014

Recognizing Blessings

Sura 93:1-3

1.   By the Glorious Morning Light,
2.   and by the Night when it is still-
3.   The Guardian-Lord hath not forsaken Thee, nor is He displeased.

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.  

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.

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.  

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.    

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.

"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?"

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.  

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.

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. 

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.

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.

Sunday, 5 October 2014


     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.

     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.

     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. 

     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.

     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.

     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."
     "No," Doctor Miller responded, 'That is exactly the answer you should have given."

     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.


Wednesday, 29 January 2014


Today 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.

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.

Wednesday, 19 December 2012

Objective Truth

Open Letter
The following is an open letter from two of our members. Please distribute it widely, to lawyers everywhere.
Dear Counsel,
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.
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.
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.
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:
· 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
· 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
· 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
· 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
· 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
· Richard Falk, Professor Emeritus, International Law, Professor of Politics and International Affairs, Princeton University
· 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
· Horst Ehmke, former Minister of Justice of West Germany. Professor of law, University of Freiburg;
· Ferdinando Imposimato, Honorary President of the Supreme Court of Italy. Former Senior Investigative Judge, Italy. Presided over numerous terrorism-related cases
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.
We invite you to go to www.L911T.com, the website for Lawyers for 9/11 Truth, and look for yourself.
Burns 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
William Veale
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.
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.
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.

Friday, 30 November 2012

Defeating Anguish

"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)

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.

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.

Thursday, 29 November 2012

Creative Expression

What 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. 

I think it is a good idea to add the article, "Women in Black: A Momentum for Peace" with this post.

Originally published in the, "Islamic Reflections 2002; Volume 15 issue 2; June 2002; page24

                                             Women in Black: A Momentum for Peace

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.

The inter-exchangeable, interactive, repertoire performances of the agents against peace  fester upon the pond of humanity, tarnishing its innate propensity toward peace.

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.

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."

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.