"IMPRESSIONS OF KHAN" by MIKE NGUYEN Living the life and dealing with the master's mystery of life and death brings memories long forgotten to awake and be revisited at the Los Angeles County Museum. The elusive meaning has finally appeared. To my surprise, our story lives and breathes in the unassuming relics of tiles, candleholders, gold woven tapestries, porcelain potteries, and other exquisite ornamentations that fill the Genghis Khan exhibition. Bits and pieces of the past lay neatly arranged throughout the softly lit and peaceful air-conditioned rooms. Each quiet hallway and every invisible borderline connecting the rooms is a time portal, and my every step pass them takes me further and further back. Postured in a corner, a fearless giant dragon head stands guard. Along the walls of one room, majestic strips of cloth woven silk and gold enticingly seduces. In the center of another, a stately gold horse saddle gallantly parades. And calmly in another, vivid manuscripts tell their ancient stories. As I peruse these objects, I begin to notice that I am lured to a distant place. Their silent songs blur my vision and my memory is drawn back to an age of transformation and to a history that has long been stilled. The land once rested among the open fields, green plains and rolling hills. The inhabitants were of the herdsman background, a nomadic kind. For ages the people were separate and divided, but overnight they were united by Genghis Khan, the Emperor of emperors. Great warriors, master archers and horsemen of supreme skills, our kingdom stretched half the world; we were known as the Mongolians. "To vanquish your enemies and chase them before you, to rob them of their wealth and see those dear to them bathed in tears, to ride their horses and clasp to your bosom their wives and daughters." This quote now etched in documentation before me once bore the pillars of an idea, a dream that inspired an unparalleled expanse for three centuries. Pulsating in the heart of every warrior were these words of the beloved Genghis Khan. To destroy, conquer, and wield was the order of the day; but to unite, was the hidden vision. Mongolians naturally became known as ruthless conquerors immersed in greed and thirsting in power. Our arrows soared beyond unseen horizons and our sword struck fear in far away lands. Opposing forces dared not challenge, for no enemies were spared on the battlefield; none were trusted, and all were destroyed. One by one they fell. The vanquished saw death, the submissive saw domination, but few saw the purpose. Through the victories, barren territories grew into magnificent cities and unrefined people became wealthy and cultured inhabitants. In some ways, our march cast a brighter dawn. Lives taken, blood shed, and the pain endured were tokens paid for a new order, sophistication, and rule. Many of their cities I have seen crumble, but with each fall, a new was always reborn. And what were once weak feuding tribes became a united empire that ruled the largest kingdom the world had ever seen. In one fold of a generation, the Mongolian brotherhood converged; disparity became uniformity, chaos into stability. Superb cities rose, Pan-Asian trade flourished, diverse religions coexisted in harmony. It was essentially through conquest that a greater good was born: unification, power, wealth and culture. So I once thought that the Mongolians would rule the world. The kingdom would expand forever. We would continue to conquer and build, leaving a lasting impression in history like no other. It was only a matter of when, and time was a trusted ally. For three centuries this was so. But after Kublai Khan, the favorable tides suddenly ebbed. It was then that I realized that time is no one's cohort; it neither abets nor betrays, it is both; and all must surrender to its whimsical call. Slowly the indestructible kingdom divided and the Mongolian unity faltered. Season after season, the empire gradually dissipated with the early mist and melted away with the mountain snow. Night after night the world turned, and each morning revealed a different picture. Like men, all must eventually retreat and decline; so too, everything that represented the Mongolian empire began its inexorable fall. The artifacts before me bear witness to time's unyielding toll. And so here in the Genghis Khan exhibit, lies the magnificent gold regal sword which once upon a time commanded the noblest respect and symbolized the highest power. There within the squared glass canopy, it now bows passively, mute and emasculated. For centuries I have witnessed the fading, the landscapes ever disappearing before my eyes. The empire, mightily it rose and quickly it fell. Since time will reclaim all, what then, does matter? What of the conquest, the glory, the wealth, the tears and suffering? For is it not, that everything which signifies us will one day be an empty dream whose distance grows with every passing hour? Long ago, I began to question the purpose and searched for something true that we left behind. Would we be remembered? If so, how? Would we be known only for our ruthlessness, destruction and conquest, or is there more? Today my quest has reached its end. Today our place in history and the difference that we left behind smile at me through the remnants that line the Genghis Khan exhibit. Their spirits will forever carry our history, our people, and our culture. From them, I realize that it is not in the form of lands conquered, power gained, or wealth built that we survive, but through the language of creation and beauty that truly speaks of the empire and echoes the Mongolian name into eternity. Indeed we have traversed the world. We've soared over unimaginable stretches of land - beyond vast seas and mountains - and prevailed, without ever having spilled an additional drop of blood. We've commanded true respect and risen to the highest level; the greatest battle won: we have captured the spirits of mankind not with the sword, but through the arts. BIO-PROFILE: Michael Nguyen, born in Saigon where he lived until the age of five, came to America two years after Vietnam fell to communist rule, when his mother made a decision to flee the country with her seven children in search of a better future. He grew up in Orange County, and went to the University of Southern California where he earned a Finance Degree, which enabled him to work as a Management Consultant for five years. Towards the middle of 2002, Michael took a sabbatical to reevaluate the direction of his life and to consider alternate career paths which would lead him to his greater passions. After backpacking alone through Europe for over two months during that summer, he has since returned and currently aspires to be a professional writer. Mr. Nguyen has a broad range of literary interest, but particularly loves to read books on Eastern Philosophy and spiritual advancement as well as enjoys meditating in his spare time while residing in Los Angeles. June Newsletter Go To Current Newsletter