This is My Myth; by Tarkan Turan

Two weeks ago, we went on to the journey of how to create your personal myth as the hero's journey. We explored Joseph Campbell's "hero's journey" through a lens of Jungian insights.

Now, after diligently weaving my own tale, I’m excited to share my story.
It has been illuminating.

Unearthing your personal myth brings clarity and direction. It stitches together experiences and meaning, revealing the unique thread of your existence. By tracing your narrative, you transcend distractions and dive deep into self-discovery.

Have fun reading mine! Let me know what you think by replying to this email. And please listen to this while reading:

Every journey begins with a question: who am I?

I am a magician, not because I wield spells or illusions, but because I see in the dark. My journey began in the shadows. In that darkness, I found my gift: the ability to navigate, to understand, and to transform.

It was not linear intelligence that guided my path; it was intuition, a deeper intelligence. A deeper wisdom, like a gentle whisper from my soul’s core. I’ve never walked this path alone. Thousands of ancestors stride beside me, their voices a guiding symphony. They showed me how to rise from the mud.

I am Turkish by blood, German by birth, and a sovereign at heart. My roots run deep, nourished by the rich soil of heritage. Raised by a remarkable single mother, she bore the weight of two boys with grace unyielding. My older brother was more than a sibling—he was my protector, my guiding star, almost replacing my father. Together, in Berlin’s vibrant yet tough Neukölln, we fashioned a world uniquely ours. In the canvas of the Turkish immigrant diaspora, I cannot fathom a life with more cultural richness.

Born in darkness

My father, a complex portrait of flaws and emotional manipulation, gifted me something.

Caught in a cycle, he mirrored the pain he received. Through this realization, I hold no anger; rather, I’m filled with gratitude. From him, I inherited precision and and work ethic. I’ve forgiven him, and I thank him still. His shadow unveiled the brilliance of light. His brokenness equipped me to heal myself and others. He provided the base metals that honed my transformative potential. Whatever he does, I wish him well.

Heritage and Cultural Identity

Berlin shaped me. I was born in Kreuzberg, a place where cultures meet and stories are told in many languages. I grew up in lively chaos. Now, the city's popularity has driven rents up, making it hard for average people to keep up. I remember Neukölln and Kreuzberg well. It’s streets once felt unsafe. It was tough and grey, yet rich and colourful. It didn’t make sense, and thats why it was art.

Now, it's a busy tourist spot. This change makes me long for my old home, which was full of realness. My parents saw the Berlin Wall fall. We are part of the cultural heritage, unseperable from what made Berlin the Berlin you so much like.

I grew up torn between two worlds. In one dimension, this dicotomy was my Turkish heritage, lacking male role models. The other was filled with strong women from a matriarchal Alevi background. They deeply influenced me. I balanced family expectations with my own views on love and identity.

For my family, love meant survival. It was unavoidable, practical, and smothering. But I wanted something different. I sought love that was gentle, free, and expressive.

Paul Chek once said,
"If your loved ones don't love you the way you need,
you're not being loved."

This hit me hard later in life. The truth was painful. I became the family's outcast. I stepped away from relationships that didn't feel right. This wasn't rebellion. It was a survival instinct, a deep inner knowing.

While my family avoided pain, I chose to face it. Many nights, I cried alone. I let the weight of past suffering wash over me. I cried for things that felt wrong, without knowing why. I often asked myself, "Why?" Looking back, I see how smart I was back then.

I realize how intelligent kids really are.

The Earthquake

In 1999, when I was 3 years old,
the Izmit earthquake hit Turkey with a magnitude of 7.6.
Me and my Family were directly in the heart of it, residing in Değirmendere, a town very near Gölçük and Izmit.

Though I was too young to remember, my mother’s stories were vivid. Pure chaos.
The number of people died were estimated at 17.000, but my mum said it has been much more.

Can you even dare to imagine what this type of earthquake is like?
And our family survived. My mum broke her nose as she was saving my life from a falling furniture piece.

How is that possible? I can’t believe it until this day.
My mum often recalls the smell of death in the fields afterward.

Even if I can’t consciously recall the quake, I know it left its imprint on my nervous system. It taught me resilience in a way no words ever could. The worst thing that could happen had already happened, and we came out on the other side. It’s a humbling thought: life’s fragility paired with the incredible strength of survival.

That experience shaped my foundation, even in the absence of direct memory. It’s as though the quake shook not just the earth beneath us but something within me—a reminder that life can break you open, but it can also offer the chance to rebuild stronger than before.

Resilience & Meeting the Shadow

Growing up in a single-parent home, I lacked a father figure to teach me healthy competitive temperament. As a result, I resented my own competitive nature. I was a yes-man. I was naturally competitive, but I never expressed it through sports or physical activities. Instead, I found refuge in video games, where I became a monster hunter. In these digital worlds, I faced dragons and beasts. I learned their patterns, weaknesses, and traits to defeat them.

Unknowingly, I was preparing for a deeper challenge: slaying my inner monsters. My sensitivity felt like both a curse and a gift. Some friends called me the "fragile Turk," and that label hurt deeply.

One day, a wise man changed my perspective. He said,
"The best hunters are the most sensitive. They use their senses to survive and hunt their prey. The more you are able to perceive, the sharper you are."

His words resonated with me. They reframed my sensitivity as strength—an ability to feel deeply, observe keenly, and act with precision.

This journey is both personal and ancestral. It carries unspoken grief and unresolved stories from generations. In solitude, I realized this pain was a legacy, and not just mine. Yet, it felt like a gift, an opportunity.

We, the "new people," are meant to transform our ancestors' pain into beauty. We are remarkable beings. Sensitivity is our strength, not a weakness. It sharpens with use. This sensitivity helped me see beyond old wounds to find clarity, peace, and power.

Fitness and Strength Training

Resilience means more than just surviving tough times.
It's about turning lessons into wisdom.

I see my early struggles as vital for growth.
They were tough but necessary, shaping my ongoing journey.

Every story has its challenges. Mine started in youth. I often felt small, insecure, and out of place. I aimed to be strong and big. Yet, I felt left behind, both physically and mentally. I thought it was just how things were.

At 14, I hit the gym, eager to build strength. Progress was slow, but I soaked up every lesson in strength training. It became part of me. I absorbed every detail of strength training with unmatched depth and engraved it into my very essence and being.

I cared about the details more than anyone else. The way I executed exercises was something I took pride in. No half repetitions, using full range of motion and learning the movement in it’s full expression.

Knowing the in’s and out’s as well as the why’s to do things made me think deeper than most fitness trainers, without having a trainer license. But still, I wasn’t really having the progress I wish I had, even though I was hard working and doing the necessary things.

So was I progressing in my fitness journey and keeping my activity and functionality levels high. I transformed myself into a disciplinary.

Freedom

Yet, in my teenage years, I strayed far from this understanding.

I was overly present in Berlin’s nightlife, partying and drinking excessively. My friends were well-connected, and I found myself living a life of privilege—free drinks, exclusive clubs, and VIP lounges. For a while, it felt exhilarating.

But the highs were short-lived, and depression soon took hold. My body mirrored my emotional turmoil. I underwent surgery to correct a crooked nose, only to find it misaligned again within weeks. It was then I realized my body was speaking to me—my nervous system was out of balance, stretching my muscles and pulling me out of alignment.

One day, a deeper truth emerged. The realization seemed sudden.

Chronic mercury poisoning from my dental fillings had been affecting me for years. Unknowingly, I carried this poison, which influenced my life. Signing a declaration of non-consent, asserting my control over my body and mind, led me to see clearly. From that moment, I was able to know why I was feeling in dis-ease.

With clarity came action. I researched and discovered the Klinghardt neurotoxin detox method. After four cycles, I removed the heavy metals that had burdened me. The transformation was immense. I regained my health, vitality, and sense of control.

Then came Jiu jitsu

In this new chapter, I began to embrace my competitive nature in a healthy way.

I took up Brazilian jiu-jitsu, a practice that allowed me to channel my strength and individuality. The mats became a space where I could heal old wounds, express my power, and forge a new relationship with myself.

Even though I was a light guy, people recognized me as dangerous. This led to me being more confident.

Through these trials, I realized that meeting the shadow is not about defeating it—it’s about understanding and integrating it. I learned to transform fragility into strength, sensitivity into a superpower, and insecurity into self-mastery. This is where I regained control of my destiny, reclaiming the life I was meant to live.

Out of the Nest, Into the World

As a teenager, YouTube opened my world. There, I discovered Elliott Hulse. His fitness videos turned into life lessons. He taught me to embrace chaos and face challenges.

Elliott led me to Paul Chek, a major influence. Paul's teachings showed me the path to wellness. Now, I'm in the Chek Academy, aiming to become a Chek Practitioner. To me, Paul is more than a teacher. He embodies the balance of mind, body, and spirit. A pioneer in holistic health, he risked everything for his beliefs, redefining health and fitness.

From Paul, I've learned about movement, nutrition, and living with purpose.

I took a bold step, leaving Germany for São Miguel, a remote Atlantic island. This volcanic paradise is full of surprises and beauty. Here, I've found temporary peace. Since 2021, my journey has been challenging but rewarding.

Leaving the city for the countryside allowed me to blend my skills in design, technology, and healing.

Now, I'm dedicated to helping others. Aho!

To be a magician is to transform pain into wisdom, shadows into clarity, and chaos into order. The dark taught me to listen, to feel, and to see what others overlook. I learned to dance with the unseen, to trust the whispers of intuition, and to use them as my compass.

I carry the darkness not as a burden but as a sacred tool. It is my ally, a reminder of what I am capable of becoming. I walk the path between worlds. This is my magic.

And in that wholeness, I find you.
Yours, fully human and fully alive.

kiss kiss,
Tarkan