I read through some old posts and… it finally dawned on me… ALL SAINT AND FIRE talk about is Journaling. I feel like I inrospect a lot. But I never actually journal offline.
I’ll change that.
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Father, why do stars fall like that?
A story of the origin of meteors and shooting stars.
This was not the whimsical why-game of a 7 year old. His eyes burned with a desire to know.
“When a man has great ambitions and reaches them, he becomes a star. And so, shooting stars are the travels of great men.”
“Wow, really? Men become stars!?”
“Aye. The sky is littered with proof that men have done… whatever it is you want to do.”
“So what happens to all the men who don’t achieve their dreams?”
“I thought perhaps, I would wait… until you’re older.”
“For what!? I can understand it!”
“Aye, you can.”
“Really?!”
“Do you remember the festival two summers ago when we picked a new Khan? Do you remember what happened?”
“YES! It was the best day EVER. There were sweet fluffs and square loafs and rabbit chasing and bow pulling and fireworks and -”
“Focus, Malik. Do you remember what happened after?”
“Ah well you had so much honeymilk you couldn’t even walk straight and momma had to carry you back to the bed and we couldn’t even wake you up with a feather and -”
“…And then?”
U*hm, well, I asked Millie to dance with me under the Meteor Shower but she - the… meteor shower?! That’s what happens? The meteor shower!?"
“Yes, Malik, yes. When a man doesn’t realize his dreams, his spirit hardens, turns to rock, and falls. Maybe it crashes, maybe it doesn’t. That’s the true nature of a meteor.”
“Most of the time, his spirit completely burns up before he reaches the ground, and is recycled by the flames before it makes impact. So he gets another opportunity, to try again.”
“But sometimes, his spirit was so big that even the flames can’t recycle it. If this happens, and it hits the ground, his life and dreams are over very soon.”
“Most meteors are… small. The dreams do not have enough significance. Or haven’t matured and gathered mass for long enough. Or, it’s a dream that the world isn’t meant to see happen.”
But some meteors are… larger. This very valley we live in, Malik. Look around. Do these walls look natural to you? We are living in the biggest meteor crater the tribe has ever known. This must have been the failure of a very, very great man."
“Babba are my dreams in the sky as meteors right now!?”
“Yes… it’s possible. It depends on whether or not you’ve started dreaming them. Let’s hope so, though.”
"But Babba why did a meteor shower that big come on the night of Ascension? Was it every man’s destiny to become Khan?"
“No, of course not, but it was many men’s dream to try. Why that night? Every man has the opportunity, yes? But only a few tried. Those who stood silent had an opportunity to realize a dream, and failed to even speak up, so their spirit was hardened and sent for judgement.”
“We each have a responsibility, son. The bigger the destiny, the bigger the responsibility.”
“They say if Genghis Khan hadn’t lived up to his destiny, the meteor impact would have been so great it would have ended all life instantly. Perhaps even split the planet apart.”
“Father! Then we must stop dreaming immediately!”
“Ah… The fastest way to doom us all, Malik. You can make this world brighter, my boy, or bury it in ash. But you can’t sit by and do nothing.”
The boy went to sleep that night, and didn’t dream. But when he woke up, something had changed.
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Temujin’s classmates called him the Little Canary…
The Story
Temujin’s classmates called him the Little Canary - a runt that proved useful in the mines.
His teachers called him the little bull. How could such a small boy have such burning rage?
The boy had caused chaos for 6 months now, and his family was threatened with exile as a result.
The military normally takes over and raises the child, in these situations…
but he was not yet 11. Still too young to join the army.
The army wanted that rage. They say good rage makes for Good Warriors, and great rage makes for Great Khans.
There was no justifying a boy so young, living in barracks, though.
The Khan heard of the boy and wanted to take action. Exiling the boy risked losing a great leader, or a great rival, or both, and The Khan wanted to make sure he could see who the boy would grow up to become.
So The Khan went to Temujin’s house, unannounced, as the family of 8 sat outside eating their dinner. He didn’t say a word, or even acknowledge their presence, as he walked towards their table. The father stood and blubbered welcomes, offered their service, their loyalty, their gratitude.
The Khan walked past him as if he was a sign post, and sat in his chair, waiting for them all to be silent, as he peered into each of their eyes.
The mother clutched her infant baby, fearing the child be taken.
The eldest brother kneeled, frozen like a gargoyle, wondering if he was being personally enlisted to the army by The Khan himself, and how he felt about it.
The eldest sister, also frozen like stone, had always feared being claimed, but now that she had seen The Khan, she understood… she knew that if he picked her up and threw her on his shoulder to take her right here and now, no one would speak a word of protest, not even her.
The father, lost for words, babbled like an idiot about tea leaves and good fortune.
Temujin noticed that only the farm animals were quiet, as if before a flood, or a storm, or a bear. The farm animals were quiet, Temujin was quiet, and everything else was in chaos.
The Khan locked eyes with Temujin, who had never taken his eyes off him, and knew the boy instantly.
“Leave!” He said. And all but Temujin left.
They sat in silence for a long time. Temujin couldn’t handle the silence, so he spoke.
“It wasn’t my fault,” he said.
The Khan stared and said nothing.
The boy tried to maintain the eye contact, but in his shame, averted his gaze.
"I have a gift for you," The Khan said.
He placed a small blade on the table. It was sheathed, and engraved with the word "Clarity"
“Do you know who this belonged to?”
Temujin shook his head, not taking his eyes off the engravings.
"I didn’t think you would. It belonged to a man named Yeff."
“Was he a Great Khan?”
"No, but if it wasn’t for his blindness, he could have been."
"Yeff was a chieftain until his tribe was raided, his people killed, his children mutilated, his wife tormented. Eventually, they were all slaughtered. All except Yeff."
“Yeff was placed on the back of a horse and made to ride south for 3 days, without food or water.”
"He was unhorsed, to be fed and watered. And to make sure that Yeff wouldn’t know the route, his leading officer took a brandishing iron, cooked it in the fire, and then scooped out Yeff’s eyes with it, so that he wouldn’t see the route they took to arrive."
“They rode for another 3 days, and all Yeff could hear was the officer’s voice. The one who blinded him and mutilated his family. The one he’d sworn to kill in revenge. He heard the man drink, give orders, yell, snore.”
“One day, there was a confrontation. An order given, an order disobeyed. Blades drawn.”
"Yeff’s captor screamed in pain, as a subordinate plunged a blade into the officer’s belly. That scream of pain turned into a scream of rage, as the officer struck back, and cut off his subordinate’s head. Yeff’s captor killed the disobedient soldier and survived the wound he suffered."
“With this blade!?” Temujin asked.
“No. Yeff would use this blade to take his revenge, though. He never forgot the scream that erupted from his captor’s mouth. He would use it to hunt down the officer he swore revenge against.”
“When he escaped, he came back home and gathered a great army to charge against the enemy Chieftain, who’s camp he was eventually able to locate.”
“Yeff was blinded, but still, effective at strategy and war. They crushed the enemy camps, and his army brought every leading man, of every rank, to kneel before Yeff.”
"Yeff would test their identity the only way he knew how. He would plunge a sword into each of their bellies, and listen to their scream. When he finally found the scream he was listening for, he cut off the man’s head. For all the others, he let them go."
"Yeff got his revenge, quenched his thirst and his rage, and was sated… but not before 108 men were stabbed, 38 men died from the stabbing, and another 21 died of infection."
Temujin looked at the blade, stone-faced.
“Will you kill me with this blade?”
The Khan didn’t answer that.
“Will I be able to use it to kill someone?” The boy asked.
“Who would you kill, if you were even given the permission?”
The boy was ecstatic. “OH YES! YES! I WOULD BE SO STRONG. I WOULD SLAY THE CHILDREN AT SCHOOL. OVERPOWER THE MINERS IN THE SHAFTS. I WOULD ROB THE MERCHANTS THAT DON’T LEND US BREAD, EVEN WHEN WE BEG.”
“Perhaps you would, son. There’s always the risk I give this to you, and you do that. Like Yeff, with his great rage spreading 1000 different directions until it reached it’s intended target.”
"But even without eyes, he knew his intended target, Temujin. Do you?"
Temujin grunted something unintelligible.
“What was that?”
“The children at school call me Little Canary…”
“All of them, Temujin?”
“Svelten, okay, Svelten does and all the others follow, ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?”
The Khan watched the boy.
“If I kill Svelten and then promise to be good, will you let me?”
"I won’t let you, no. But, even without me, for an offense of that nature, you could beat him within an inch of his life and leave the rest to the gods, if you liked."
“I knoooow that… it’s just… I’m not strong enough.”
“Ah,” The Khan said. “The Truth is here.”
Temujin shook, tears in his eyes, anger on his face.
“End this pointless rage towards all the villagers, Temujin. Wield it on it’s intended target. Your anger is Svelten. And your anger is pointed at you, and your lack of strength.”
"Imagine focusing this, instead of spreading it like a golden spring lily’s pollen. Magnify it. Svelten may be bigger than you, but your rage is bigger than anyone’s. Beat him, let the gods decide if he lives or dies from there, and request
a seat at my table when you do. It will be granted."
The Khan looked Temujin in the eyes, found the steadiness within, and asked him… “Can you do that?” … it was a test, more than a question.
“Well… maybe… but what happened to Yeff after he killed all those men?” Temujin asked.
“Yeff… Yeff lead battles, aged well, and became a monk. He still lives at the temple to this day.”
A MONK!? Temujin was in shock.
"Yeff was never an angry man, Temujin. Neither are you. He just needed to understand what he was truly mad at, become strong enough to conquer it, and then move on with his life."
The Lesson @Ouroboros learned, before writing this story.
Before Khan, I wasn’t angry enough. After Khan, I was so angry, I was lashing out at people who didn’t deserve it. The key to mastering Khan is finding out exactly what you’re angry at, and solving it. I am angry at people in my life who put their agenda ahead of my own, but I’m even more angry at myself, for being weak, and at myself, for not being strong enough to reject their agenda.
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Khan, Archetype of Imagination
Now that I’m engaging in imagination regarding Khan, I see what a rich world of possibility the archetype provides, and see why @IRON makes art about Khan-esque figures. What she does is amazing, btw.
The synchronicities… (expand her post to hear the kratos speech)
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Khan ST1 results
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One change, since reading @Fire’s suggestion to journal in a new light, is I have been journaling DEEP. While journaling, I’ve been so angry I fantasize about punching walls and smashing dishes. I was just venting and venting and venting on paper, not even aware of why I was angry at first, or who at. My thoughts were dark.
But the moment I understood exactly what I was angry at and got clarity, I stopped being angry.
Partially because I didn’t have to be angry at EVERYTHING and could focus my anger to new outcomes.
And partially because I realized my anger was more at myself, my circumstances, the fact that I had to put up with something because I wasn’t a Khan… and so I took responsibility for it instead of putting it on the other person.
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Analysis of Little Canary story.
Self Analysis
I have been doing so much journaling, going so deep into myself, and if I can’t go deep enough with plain writing on what my subconscious is saying, I use mythology to access the parts of my subconscious that I can’t consciously grab, but I can write out and watch unfold before me.
There were a couple of key things i learned and enjoyed about writing that lil parable.
The best part was… i really had to think hard about how a Khan would interact with normal people. What WOULD a Khan do if he heard of a boy of that nature, and wanted to intervene? Would he summon the boy, force the boy through trials, yell at the boy? Would it be a formal gathering? Informal? What would everyone’s reactions be.
There were many right answers but ultimately, a Khan doesn’t give a F, so when he had the urge, he just walked over to their house, with all the pride and indifference in the world.
Everyone feared being claimed because they knew they were the Khan’s property, in a way. The brother, aware he could be claimed for the army. The infant, claimed for the throne (the mother knowing she was too old to be desired, compared to the sister.) The sister, all too aware that she could be taken away as a concubine, if he so chose, and that noone would stop her… in her curiosity and submissiveness in front of such a man, not even she would protest. The father, stripped of his role, had no purpose, and shifted straight into servant like behavior. The father tried to make it known that it was at least HIS house the Khan had entered, by making offerings of tea etc., but the Khan made it clear that it was the Khan’s house, when he sat in the father’s chair.
Temujin, also being a Khan, did not fear being claimed. He feared being killed, later.
But as a little Khan next to the great Khan, he couldn’t maintain eye contact and composure as well as the Khan could. He had potential.
I really liked this idea, a truly mythic idea, that the Khan was such a force of nature that the farm animals went quiet, the same way they would when a hungry, ravenous bear, was roaming through the forest.
Temujin was a representation of the anger I was feeling on Khan, the defensiveness, being easily triggered, lashing out at anyone who opposed me. Young, immature, powerful, in need of direction.
My journaling exercise had me writing PAGES AND PAGES of anger, senseless anger, I didn’t even want to question it or solve it or end it, it just felt so good to express it.
Eventually, I realized what I was really angry at, and stopped being angry once I had.
When I didn’t know, I was blind.
All men can satisfy their rage and come back to contentment if they know their target and achieve it. Yeff knew his target, but was FORCED into this inability to be effective, because he was blind. So he created wanton destruction, until finally he, almost accidentally, accomplished his goal.
Temujin, as a metaphor for properly harnessed anger, doesn’t need to do that. He can embody the energy of Fenrir, and be kind to all those who deserve it, and ruthless, to any who deserve that too.
His anger, proper anger, is infrequent, powerful, effective, and purpose-oriented.
He is called Little Canary because he is viewed as a sacrifice. His greatest use to others, who take advantage of him, is to die so that they may live. One of the things I was angry about in my journaling was being a pawn in other people’s game. A sacrifice in service of their goals. A canary in their coal mine.
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Divine Khan, (Khan + KB)
Definitely Pagan because he utilizes, not suppresses, sexual energy, to enhance both his primal spirit and divinity
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I liked the short story.
It’s written exactly in a way I would imagine in the best way. I could almost feel the presence. Very impressive. Did you see Khal Drogo interpretation? I think its fire!
Which Khal Drogo interpretation? I’m not sure what you’re referring to.
I see you post videos of him and his aesthetic on your thread and have a very Khal Drogo-esque feminine character that seems quite powerful .
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I was asking if you have seen the first season of game of thrones where he is featured
oh, yes!
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I look forward to any more stories
if you’ll write any : ) you got me hooked
( no pressure though )
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Definitely keeping these up. Stay tuned.
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The Red Dragon Roared
Red Dragon Poem
The Red Dragon Roared,
in the rusty room.
His claws, 12 total,
Could carve riverbeds.
His translucent scales,
Like Egyptian Silk
Shimmered in the Sun
And absorbed its heat.
The Red Dragon Seethed,
His urge to fly GREAT!
He was far too terrible and mighty.
He readied his flames,
His fangs catastrophic.
His purpose clear
To be a God.
The “Great Dragon” House.
Noble Lingeage.
10,000 Decades.
Now he was the last.
These Mongols…
They enslave themselves.
BECOME LEGENDARY, he yelled
Into iron bars, surrounding.
As Above, So Below.
Caged Dragon, Caged Soul.
"Is this what it’s like,
To be mortal?"
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Khan ST1 is painful but good. However, my Emperor/Spartan custom has arrived, and it’s soon time to set foundations. I just listened to KB/K this morning, so, on my next listening day, I’ll see what my subconscious wants.
Emperor Core
Spartan Core
Approachability Aura
Synergy: Breath of the Storms
Synergy: Wonder Of Life
Spiritual Freedom
Dopaminergic Revival
Enchanting Smile
Alpha Body Language
Light Of Humility
Emotions Unfettered
The Aligner
Inner Voice
Spiritual Reality Alignment
Fenrir
The driver is Emperor, and the modules are to make emperor a lil more like Chosen, and to blend some spirituality to mesh well with KB.
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On Introspective Mythology
i dont really kno where to put this but think of it like an intro to the stories
On Introspective Mythology.
For thousands of years, stories have been treasured, shared, and remembered, due to what they can offer us, practically and emotionally.
Before writing, people, storytellers by trade, bards, singers, poets, lyricists… dedicated their lives to memorizing and inspiring others with humanity’s greatest stories, and those people were given great honors.
Why?
Because the best stories did more than entertain… they inspired real, lasting change in their listeners. They taught. They were stories that helped their listeners vibe, thrive, and survive.
They were stories that a mother could rely on. Instead of nagging her child about the benefits of the truth, and perils of lies… which their young minds could never understand… she told him the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf, and watched as her child figured out the meaning of the story for themself.
Who is It For?
Mythology may belong to humanity…
But my personal mythologies belong to me. And yours to you.
Introspective Mythology is the expression, exploration, and dramatization of the dark and light within.
It is a journaling tool one can undergo anywhere and any time. The writer is free to personify his struggles and goals as characters, and bid his separate subconscious parts to interact with each other, uncertain as to what they’ll say.
It is Carl Jung’s concepts of “The Shadow,” expressed and healed, by being transcended through each stage of Joseph Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey.”
JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis, it’s been 100+ years and we remember their names. Charles Dickens, 200. Shakespeare, possibly the greatest Modern-Myth maker, over 400 now.
But the oldest name in the literary books is Homer, writer of the Illiad and Odyssey, written over 2700 years ago. And those stories still inspire, yes, and Homer may have been a Greek, writing about GODS, but 2700 years ago, he was just a man, telling stories, and those stories most likely contained elements of his soul as much as elements of the heavens.
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The story above you wrote about descent
Awesome.
Contains something powerful
Will you continue to run Khan or just Emperor Custom with Khan Black?
I’m just gonna stick with Khan + KB stage 1 for at least this full cycle.
I"m committed to Khan Black for all four stages, but not Khan for all four stages.