Risen Will
The over/under on how the dice will roll
Hey! What is the biggest obstacle you’ve overcome?
In this quest to find stability and a new career, I’ve needed to reevaluate my ideas of achievements and success.
Accomplishments are often thought of as the result of a series of correct decisions. The idea is to somehow set up a master plan that is then beautifully executed, bringing together every originally intended benefit.
The truth is obviously messier than that.
Our entire world is nothing but a hastily cobbled together solution that just happens to work at the last minute.
Any logical justifications are at best a post-hoc argument and more likely to be a retcon than intelligent design.
There are entire industries dedicated to defining and refining luck.
We crave order and the universe answers with random noise.
I’m willing to admit that it is indeed perhaps possible to organize the chaos, but wresting control requires a harsh hand and decisive action.
Even then, entropy eventually reigns supreme.
Instinctual Obsession
The view from the hill was easy to assess. We held our legions at bay for the coming battle out of courtesy more than custom. Father was not a conqueror in faith, but he was an emperor in blood.
We would take the lowlands within a fortnight, the talks under the tents were mostly about whether the fields would be painted red or gifted blue.
“I’m forcing myself through what you’ve already been through.” Father spoke with a charisma that was impossible to translate. The locals simply feared his reputation, but he extended an open hand in retribution.
“These are sovereign lands! You cannot invade my people and expect no fight!” The ambassador was naive. He was under the false pretense of a balance in power. The stakes were clear, his king either forfeit property and lordship — or he died.
“I would be a fool to want anything from a society if they lay their heads low like dogs.” Father commanded the very sky with his breath. He moved the heavens with his divine will and spelled out the consequences of opposition. “My respect is limited to your people. I will continue to respect that confidence well after I claim your lands.”
“Dogs! You son-of-a-bitch! You are the one who is invading our home! My king will not stand for a foreign claim to the throne!” The ambassador made his fatal mistake not with words but with actions. He stood up and raised his head above Father's.
A low-ranking general was quick to pierce his flesh and push his heart out of the back of his body. The beating blood lay writhing on the ground and Father could only muster up a sigh.
“Clean it up, Son.” He spoke to me in vulgar terms, rolling his eyes as the ambassador’s body wriggled on the imperial campground.
“Yes, Father.” I whimpered as I moved from my official seat next to his. The ambassador’s organs spilling blood down the hill toward tomorrow’s battlefield.
“Are you sure he is up to the task?” The low-ranking general challenged Father’s decree for the first and last time.
I had two bodies to clean up before the invasion could begin.
When my hands were worn and dirty, Father found me resting in that same tent where we once hoped for peaceful negotiations.
He told me it was his father who taught him the prophecies — and his scars bore the weight of that burden.
“Great men are called to lead; they are not appointed to the position. I can see the lack of conviction in your heart, but know that should you find no strength in it, you will still be my son.” It was a sentiment Father often liked to share. He had the speech practically memorized, and he truly meant every word. “Forge your own path and people will respect you as a leader for that truth.”
“That’d be better written than said to me.” I joked in the only way I knew how. Challenging his scholarly cause and awaiting his almighty wrath.
“Hate me now; love me later.” He smiled as he lay his open hand on my shoulder. “Weakness is abstract until you’re on the battlefield.”
We won handily and Father granted me control over the conquered lands. I wanted to rule with a fairness that reflected how uncomfortable I was with the stronger flavors of authority.
But no one knows that anymore — my greatest success in some ways. The references to the subtle art of a lost boy finding his place in the royal court are lost to time as mediums shift and the old ways are forgotten.
To be clear, what I mean to say is I don’t believe I was ever a great king.
I was always scared to death of my own mind.
Long Legacies
Despite our best efforts, I don’t think any of us will have much say in how we are remembered.
The most famous superstars from 100 years ago are all but forgotten. The great leaders of 500 years ago may still have their names in textbooks, but everything of their everyday life is nearly invisible against the weight of their more important series of historical events.
We are quick to forget even ourselves, and the proudest heritage would struggle to trace a lineage that dates back thousands of years.
Still, some memories of the past manage to persist.
And if you’ve ever had a longer conversation with me, I bet I’ve shared this song with you already.
However, I couldn’t think of a better way to conclude this week’s newsletter.
Хөх тэнгэрээс заясан
Хөдөө аралд мэндэлсэн
Хөх монголоо нэгтээ
Хөвчин дэлхийд дуурисгаад
Blessed by the eternal sky
Born of the steppe
Everywhere in blue-skied Mongolia
His name resounds in the world
Эрэлхэг монгол Чингэс
Эзэнбогд Чингэсээ
The courageous Mongol Genghis
The sublime lord Genghis
Until next time.
—JMB