Genghis Khan—an honorary title that often replaces his birth name Temujin—was born sometime between 1151 and 1162. Few records of his early life exist, and what few there are contradictory. What we do know is that he was likely born in Deluun Boldog, near the mountain Burkhan Khaldun and the rivers Onon and Kherlenm in northern Mongolia.
Most people have at least a basic understanding of Genghis Khan’s life; as the founder of the Mongol Empire and the first Great Khan, he ruled over one of the largest empires in history. Often considered to be the world’s greatest conqueror, he united the fragmented Mongol tribes and led numerous successful—and brutal—campaigns across Eurasia. Interestingly, despite the savagery of his campaigns, Genghis Khan was noted for his religious tolerance and his encouragement of the arts; during his rule, he’s believed to have built more bridges than any other leader in history. He also invented the concept of diplomatic immunity and helped the Silk Road to thrive again with a postal service and protection for merchants.
Sometime in August of 1227, Genghis Khan died. Although we know it was sometime during the fall of Yinchuan, his exact cause of death is unknown. Many attribute it to an injury sustained in battle, but others believe it was from illness, a fall from his horse, or a hunting injury. According to one apocryphal story, he was stabbed by a princess taken as a war prize. Mongols had strict taboos on discussing death, which meant that details were hazy, which in conjunction with the amount of time that’s passed, makes it impossible to say which story is true. Whatever the case, he was dead.
Burial & Legends:
As was traditional in his tribe, Genghis Khan had previously arranged to be buried without markings. His body was returned to northern Mongolia, ostensibly to his birthplace, and buried somewhere along the Onon River and Burkhan Khaldun mountains. Other legends have also said to have asked to be buried directly on Burkhan Khaldun. According to yet another, likely apocryphal, tale related by Marco Polo, his funeral was attended by over 2,000, after which the guests were killed by his army, who were in turn killed by his funeral procession, who then killed any who crossed their path as they took his body to its final resting place. Finally, the slaves who built the tomb were killed, the soldiers who killed them were killed, and the funeral procession committed suicide.
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I denied my Trump supporting Father a proper burial
My Trump supporting Father died on 10/18/2020. I was the estate executor, so I had him cremated against his wishes. I donated my 1/3 of the estate to Planned Parenthood. His ashes are sitting in the garage, and waiting for a proper garbage day.
In my opinion, a lot of sub-par analysis boil down pushes to just wins and loses—especially one big win and one big loss. In reality, I think the vast majority of the time, it's not about wins and loses in a surface-level way. It's about relevance. Especially relevance over a long period of time. To bury someone, you need to do damage to the long term relevance of a wrestler:
Classic burials where a wrestler loses indiscriminately happen for sure, but I think it would be best to first look at long-term trends before throwing the term burial around. There can be other things wrong with a decision that aren't a burial.
When I was about 8 years old my family and another family we were close to rented an old Adobe house in Taos New Mexico together that was built on an Indian burial ground. It had those rounded doorways , cool house. Anyway, it was me and my older brother, my mom and dad and my baby sister. The other family was mom dad brother and sister of similar age, a couple years older. Long story short all the women and children experienced things, but the adult men, experienced nothing. Aside from my mom and the other mom having the same weird totem pole dream when they stayed in a certain bedroom they took turns sleeping in, my experience was terrifying. I got up in the middle of the night to get some water from the fridge dispenser in the kitchen. It sounds cliche but the temperature in the room suddenly dropped and I could see my breath. I turned around and there was a big sliding glass door that opened to the yard in the kitchen. Outside, directly behind the glass I could see a dark figure, outlined in a faint light, with glowing red eyes, looking right at me. I was terrified and couldn’t move. I was frozen in fear... a few seconds passed and it just walked away into the dark and disappeared. At that point I could move again and I promptly ran back to the bed I was sharing with my older brother. I have never seen a ghost since. Neither has anyone else that saw them in that house.