“Raise your words, not your voice.
It is rain that grows flowers, not thunder.”
Rumi
Even in her dreams, Ten was noticeably taller to both herself and ‘Others.’ The reflection of herself in the natural pools that fell randomly along her path, the upside down mirror images twisted back at her through sparkling drops on leaves and petals, giving her visions of someone she hardly knew. She was as thin as a waif, but not sickly. Five years of eating well and gymnastics combined with yoga had given her a sturdiness in body and mind that held firm in physical life and in her projections. Dreams weren’t necessarily projections, but they had begun to blur together as she studied the mystical science of the Jedi and the real science of the physical world, following Corissa in ritual maintenance. Mystical science wasn’t an absolute science, as there were variations of technique that worked better for some than others, which also meant there was a lot experimentation and personal refinement. A High Priestess of the Order of the Sacred Circle and a Shaman Ewok might have significant ethno-ceremonial artifacts and different linguistic maps, and they may even channel a different frequencies, but they were both accessing the same thing: the Force.
“Everybody’s map is different,” G had explained. “Language and perspective and what’s important to you all go into making your map. Another influencing factor is where we enter and depart the playing field. How many times must a needle push through a quilt before it has charted all the pathways? It is a question you should contemplate, but not answer, because it is a conundrum. With each pass of a needle, the fabric of the quilt subtly changes so that it is never twice the same terrain.”
Much of her training consisted of metaphors and conundrums. It was less about mastering a particular way of thinking and more about learning to navigate without words, because words, like the needle, by their nature changed reality. Even one specific word could translate into a different reality for each person who used it just based on their own history and experiences with that word.
Ten approached G as he sat on a bolder near a lake large enough to be mistaken for an ocean. He didn’t seem to notice her, but she was certain he was aware. The boulder rested on white sand, with wave patterns created by an invisible rake emanating outwards from the rock, as if its presence itself disturbed the fabric of reality. She could discern no footpath inwards, making her wonder how G had gotten to his position without leaving evidence. Removing her shoes, she carefully navigated a path inward to the boulder, leaving evidence. Her foot prints made their own ripples, changing the pattern. She waited till his eyes opened, which ‘felt’ like a long time for this being a mere dream, but then, she was starting to respect that dreams were never ‘merely’ anything.
“So, what’s the lesson plan for today?” Ten asked. “Letting go,” G answered.
“Pffft! Again? That seems like the only lesson we ever work on?!” Ten complained. “Take your backpack off,” G instructed her.
“I’m not wearing…” Ten began, but her hands found the straps. Had she been wearing it and awareness sparked due to attention, or did mentioning it summon it into being? Exploring the subconscious was exhausting work, as you had to sift through magic and metaphor simultaneously to try and decipher who was communicating to whom. She removed the backpack, discovering it was heavy, the weight shifting to her arms and hands. She sat it down on the stone next to G and felt the immediate and unexpected relief.
“Reach in and pull out a stone,” G instructed.
Ten opened the bag and looked in. She saw nothing. “Reach in,” G instructed.
“I don’t know what’s in there!” Ten protested, surprised by her own loudness. She calmed herself. She laughed, a nervous laugh, revealing she knew this was a test but was still afraid something would jump out at her or latch on to her, made all the more real by imagining it to be so. “Is this like that cave thing I had to pass through?”
G shrugged.
Ten was pretty sure there wouldn’t be stones in her backpack, but she committed. She reached in and to her surprise she pulled out a hefty stone that filled her hand, gritty with caked mud or sand. She brushed some of the mud away and found a date, time, and location stamped onto the stone. She stared.
“Want to talk about it?” G asked. “No.”
“So, why are you holding on to it?” G asked.
“I didn’t know I was carrying it till you made me pull it out,” Ten said.
“Throw it away,” G encouraged.
Ten hesitated.
“You don’t want to talk about it but you also don’t want to throw it away,” G pointed out.
“What are we doing here?” Ten asked.
“The lessons patiently transmitted to us by trees is that it is okay to hold onto a thing for a season, but when the season is over, you let it go. It’s usually not the boulders that weigh us down, Ten, but instead, it’s the dead leaves, the pebbles, the loose grains of sands, the dust that coats everything like a heavy film or veil,” G said. “In your bag are the mementos of every interaction that you have ever had, good or bad. We will continue to work on letting go until you have an empty backpack.”
“Even the good stuff?” Ten asked.
“Imagine you are a vessel holding water, and water is emotions,” G explained. “If the pot is full to the brim, whether it is a drop of anger, sadness, joy, or surprise, it will cause the vessel to overflow, which translates into behaviors that affect the physical environment. To continue to experience newness, you have to make room for it to flow or it will overwhelm you.”
Ten woke from her nap but didn’t stir, hoping the stillness would allow her to return back to the dream world. Light streamed in through the far window, illuminating particles that drifted lazily by. Out of boredom, she tried to shift them using the Force. When she saw no evidence that even these mostly weightless bits of fluff could respond to her mind, she concluded with an inner, unspoken resignation that she would never learn to use the Force.
A chime rang twice before she decided to get up an answer the door. Jordeen was on the other side, bearing food.
“Hey,” Jordeen smiled. “Lunch and brew?”
Ten frowned, but allowed Jordeen in. Jordeen carried the tray over to the table and set it down. It was a shallow table, with cushion on the floors the only chairs. She then put out plates, cups, and portioned out the meal before pouring brew.
“You didn’t have to,” Ten said.
“I know,” Jordeen said. She spied evidence of half eaten protein bars and shakes. “I have noticed you have been avoiding the cafeteria, so I thought I would check in on you.”
Ten sat down but waited till Jordeen was ready before proceeding. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly,” Ten said.
“Okay. Can you at least share why you’re isolating?” Jordeen asked.
“Meditating,” Ten corrected.
“Avoiding,” Jordeen held firm.
Ten sighed. “The boys are driving me nuts. They keep hitting on me and I don’t want anything to do with them,” Ten said. Her next statement exploded into boundary enforcement. “I don’t like their shenanigans. I’m not impressed by their showing off. I’m not interested in love, sex, kissing, cuddling, having someone making a fool of themselves, or seeing the flexing of their arms as if that would make me fall weak in the knees, and I especially hate them trying to give me things with the expectation I’m going to give something up, or anything else that may be construed as a relationship that is socially binding with expectations of favors or kindness, or in any other way that limits my social potential.”
There was silence that followed their rant. Ten waited patiently for a rebuke. “Good for you,” Jordeen said.
Ten stared at her brew, feeling as if her declaration was perhaps overly stated, and half wanting the rebuke. The liquid was not as reflective as it would be in her dreams, but it did provide something, esoterically. She had been taught by G just imagining drinking the brew had benefits. Just smelling brew had benefits. Just feeling the warmth through the cup…
“Do you think I’m broken?” she asked.
“Do you think you’re broken?” Jordeen asked.
“I’m supposed to want relationships, right?” Ten asked.
“Sounds like a great conversation for you to have with your mom,” Jordeen said. Ten sighed, focused on her tea. “I can’t share this kind of stuff with her.”
“Really?” Jordeen asked, surprised. “Why not?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to burden her, I guess,” Ten said. She drank the last of her brew and set her cup down. “I sense a vulnerability about her.”
Jordeen poured more brew.
“You’ve sensed it, too!” Ten said, remarking on the lack of a response.
Jordeen’s expression was so neutral as to be an answer. Her student’s awareness had grown in leaps in bounds; even if the student herself couldn’t see it.
“You even know what it is!” Ten said.
“This is a conversation you should have with her,” Jordeen said.
“Why can’t you just tell me?” Jordeen asked, sulking. She felt like her relationship with Jordeen allowed for a greater level of trust and transparency, but it was layered in veiled secrecy like an ongoing onion test.
“There are times to hold confidence, times to break confidentiality, and times when a friend encourages a friend to go to the source,” Jordeen said, taking up her brew. She saluted. “I forget, what time is it?”
“Will she tell me the truth?” Jordeen asked.
Jordeen shrugged, amused. “She sees in you a vulnerability,” she said. “And a need to protect you. Indeed, it is her job to protect you.”
“I am an adult now,” Ten snapped. “I don’t need protection.”
“Interesting,” Jordeen said. “Corissa’s an adult, too, and yet you feel the same compulsion towards her.”
“You talk like G,” Ten said.
“Thank you,” Jordeen said, suppressing a laugh. “Have you spoken to him about this?”
“About boys? No! About mom? Definitely no! Anyways, he always takes her side,” Ten said.
“You say that like you don’t like it,” Jordeen said.
“I hate it! He dotes all over her, jumps when she says, but he gets nothing out of it,” Ten said.
“Maybe. He does love her,” Jordeen said.
“He loves everyone! But yeah, he loves her, and she doesn’t love him, and I feel like she’s using him, and I don’t want to play that with these stupid boys. Love shouldn’t be about proximity or chance. I want G to move on, be happy.”
“You assume he’s not happy,” Jordeen said.
“How can he be happy when his love isn’t mutual?” Ten asked. “I don’t know how he does it. I don’t think I have it in me to love at all, but I certainly wouldn’t ever be stupid about it the way he is.”
“I am so glad you’re comfortable sharing things with me,” Jordeen said.
“Just let it all out.”
Ten shrugged, deflated. “That’s all I got. For now.”
Having completed her holographic meeting with Secretary Doya, Corissa was headed towards her next meeting, a committee meeting for the Three Sisters Academy. Isho, a starry eyed Rodian and friend, accompanied her. Isho updated her on what to expect at the meeting, since three items had been added to the docket last minute, one of which dealt with the biggest news story in the galaxy, the destruction of the Hosnian System.
“There is rumor of impending war,” Isho said.
“There will always be rumors of war,” Corissa lamented.
As they turned the corner, they were ambushed by an unhappy resident. “I’d like to lodge a formal complaint,” Marsay said.
“Of course you do, Marsay,” Corissa sighed. “But does it have to be right now?”
“Yes. My petition for setting up tents was denied on the premise that we weren’t going to be allowed to dig latrines or employ sewer droids,” Marsay said. “But you’re allowing a Wookie to build a treehouse in the Orchard half way down the Sister, in plain sight of the Path.”
“I don’t know anything about a Wookie building a treehouse,” Corissa said. She looked to Isho. Isho shrugged, suggesting she hadn’t heard anything about a Wookie, either.
“You know what happens if a Wookie shits in a forest? It hits the ground! Which is fine if the trees are as big as they are on Kashyyk, because it disintegrates when it hits, and is supposed to be all ecological and good for the forest floor, but here, it’s just going to smell bad,” Marsay said.
“Again, I don’t know anything about a Wookie,” Corissa argued. “But regardless of any discoveries, it doesn’t change our relationship. The committee was very clear, as long as there are underground residential homes and dorms to be had, there will be no tent cities.”
“I’m not asking for a city, I’m asking for three tents! My family is nomadic. We like being outdoors,” Marsay said.
“And you’re free to spend time outdoors,” Corissa said.
“Take pictures. Leave footprints. Have fun. Don’t get eaten.”
“But…”
Corissa interrupted his rebuttal to answer her comm. link, which she hoped would help extricate her from the unwanted dialogue. “Go ahead,” she said.
“Sorry, mam, but I thought you should be aware that there is an all-out fight in the cafeteria,” responded the security.
“On my way,” Corissa said.
Corissa didn’t excuse herself; she just went, at full speed. Isho followed, not as deftly, but she didn’t knock anyone down. Marsay didn’t accompany them as getting into a brawl or stopping a brawl sounded like someone else’s job. Corissa slid into the cafeteria, just missing a flying egg-plant that hit the wall behind her and exploded mush in all directions. She didn’t see who had thrown it, as it was complete bedlam. Kids from five years old to sixteen were involved, as well as a number of adults, and it was impossible to tell if the adults were trying to break it up or were simply participating. There were two kids unconscious on the floor and a security guard, an ex-storm trooper, on the ground with several teenagers on top of him. He was clearly trying to use restraint in his response, so as not to injure the kids, which was evident by the fact he was taking punches.
A Wookie entered a side entrance and bellowed a fierce report, a long growl followed by three short grunts. All fighting ceased in the cafeteria. All eyes went to the Wookie.
“What did she say?” Corissa asked Isho.
“I don’t think it’s what she said, but how she said it,” Isho said.
The Wookie repeated herself, a sustained growl followed by three barks. In order of age, the children lined up against the wall. One of the adults helped up the security guard. They were both sporting bruises. The two unconscious teens stayed down.
The Wookie issued another order, and gestured as if she expected the children to stay put, and then approached Corissa as if she knew her. She made a longer speech that almost sounded apologetic.
“Um, yeah, thank you, I think,” Corissa said.
Head of security, Emmer, approached Corissa. “I’m sorry, Mam. I can explain what happened and I can assure you, it won’t happen again,” he began.
Corissa looked skeptical but allowed the officer to continue.
“The two teenagers over there were fighting. Yut tried to de-escalate it, but when he couldn’t break it up without hurting them, he stunned them,” Emmer said.
The Wookie laughed.
“That’s not funny,” Corissa said, and then back to Emmer. “What the hell?”
The Wookie didn’t hide her amusement, but she did stop laughing out of respect. Her eyes were bright with love and mischief simultaneously. She was by far the tallest creature in the cafeteria and would have to duck to pass through exits. She carried a leather purse which hung on her left side, the strap over her right shoulder.
“It’s standard Trooper protocol, Mam,” Emmer explained. “We’re still working out the kinks of shifting to a more civilian protocol. Stunning the youths was supposed to protect them from injury. Yut didn’t expect the remaining kids to pounce on him, and then, well, we lost control of the situation all together.”
“I’d say,” Corissa said. Most of the kids here had been trafficked and sold as slaves, only luckily found by authorities and sent to orphanages due to no families of origin. They were now here, because Corissa had extended sanctuary to them as a favor to the other, overwhelmed orphanages. “Get those two to the infirmary. And no more stunning folks, especially kids.”
“For all situations?” Emmer asked.
The Wookie barked followed by a sustained growl.
“I’m not arguing with her. I’m just pointing out that stun can be very practical in solving certain situations,” Emmer said.
“You speak Wookie?” Ten asked. “Some,” Emmer said.
“Fine. Look, I will tell the committee we need to establish security protocols delineating appropriate responses. I have to go, but I would like to speak to you and the Wookie together. Tomorrow morning, my office, if that’s okay with you?”
The Wookie acknowledged the request favorably. Corissa turned and departed. Isho nodded, offering a Rodian smile, and then hurried to catch up to Corissa.
“Mam, the meetings is the other way,” Isho said. “Yeah, if I’m late, stand in for me,” Corissa said.
“Where are you going?” Isho asked.
“To see Preston,” Corissa said. “He is going by G now,” Isho said.
“Yeah. Don’t know when that fad started, but his name is Preston,” Corissa said. She touched Isho’s arm. “I trust you to represent me. Assure them, I can be late or miss one meeting.”
The fastest way down to the valley without a rocket pack was via a Zip Line, strategically placed near the main gates. Corissa took the line down. The Academy, or a monastery depending on your perspective, was at the top of a midsized mountain, at least compared to those in the mountain chain that ran the length of the continent. The other side of the ‘Third Sister’ was the Diamond Lake, contained between all ‘Three Sisters’ and two dams. This side of the Third sister had the Winding Path and the Stepped Orchard, with more than enough fruit bearing trees that no one at the Academy should ever be hungry. Her descent to base took her within eye shot of the tree house under construction. At its present level of construction, it could only be seen from the Zip line. Arriving at base, she unhooked herself from the line and then from her harness. She placed the harness in a basket which would later be retrieved by Findit and brought back to the top.
She walked a path towards the mountain, in the shade of trees, crunching of past falls, amidst the sickly sweet smell of fallen, rotting fruit. A myriad of creatures scurried away from her. The entrance to the cave had been shaped by a Mason of unmatched skill, turning a hole in a rock into the gateway of an ornate, majestic temple. Inside, Freya stood guard. She greeted Corissa with a bow.
“Good day, Corissa,” Freya said. “It is good that you have finally accepted G’s invitation to visit. I see you had no difficulty finding the entrance.”
“It’s in plain sight,” Corissa said.
“You would be surprised how many people pass it by unobserved,” Freya said. “I am on sentry duty while G is meditating. You, of course, are free to pass. Would you like me to accompany you down?”
“I think I can manage,” Corissa said, moving past the Luxury Droid G kept as a pet.
“Of course. He’s in the meditation chamber” Freya said. “Just follow the path down till you hear the water.”
The interior of the cave was illuminated by hidden lights that shown through bricks of pink salt. The floor beneath her boots crunched as she was literally walking on grains of salt no larger than beach sand. She wondered if it would be pleasant to walk on barefoot. Indeed, she was probably supposed to remove her shoes before heading down, but Freya hadn’t corrected her, nor would she had complied if the Droid had asked her to. Halotherapy, or salt therapy, was an ancient practice going back thousands of years in human culture, and had been found to exist on many planets in various guises, even on non-humanoid occupied worlds. A stay in a salt mine was believed to cure asthma and improve skin conditions.
The floor leveled out and became lined with bricks of orange and pink salt, alternately illuminated. The tunnel opened to a spacious cavern, the canopy of which was a smoothed dome surface that reflected gentle lights back towards a still pool. The water was the primary source of the radiance for this room, a Light Meditation Pool, which offered up a gentle green, natural florescence. There was a natural draw to pause, reflect, even an urge to strip and enter the water, but she focused on her intent and continued to follow the brick path past the pool. At the other side of the cavern she began to notice the sound of flowing water. As she proceeded through the next tunnel, the rush of sound became more distinct. When the cave did open again, it opened into a pocket room, oddly shaped to direct any noise back to the focal point which was down below her. The brick path became steps down, forming a spiral path to the center pedestal. Water flowed down on all sides of the wall in a stepped fashion towards the center pedestal.
Corissa called to G, but he didn’t respond. She began the journey down and had to slow her pace, as the water flowing down the sides of the walls was disorientating. She had to focus on the path. The sound level was incredible and distracting. It literally interrupted her ability to hold linear thoughts. At one moment she would find herself fully aware of the loudness of the water flowing down and then as she had a thought the noise would seem to abate, only a moment later to roar loudly in her ears demanding her attention. The sound level of course did not change, only her attention did. Her path required her to take leaps from step to step, which though not huge in terms of her ability to ‘reach,’ it did push her past her comfort zone due to the distraction of flowing water, vertigo, and variable sound intensity as her attention went from water to step to G.
She arrived safely at bottom and looked up at the walls, the water falling all around her, and she felt as if she were moving through space and time. It took most of her strength not to grab hold of G and ask for help.
“G,” she said, loudly. Still, he didn’t respond.
“G,” she said again, reaching out to touch him.
He grabbed her wrist, almost jerked her off her feet, but his eyes opened and he realized he was not in danger, and smiled. “Corissa. I was just thinking about you.”
“We need to speak,” Corissa said. “What was that?” G asked.
“I want to talk with you, Preston,” Corissa said.
“Oh, okay. We should go back to my room. I really can’t hear too well down here,” G said, standing up.
G might have fallen over if Corissa hadn’t taken his arm.
“Are you okay?” Corissa asked, concerned.
He patted her hand and smiled, but he held her hand to his arm as they proceeded up. He moved as if he had been ill, but she refrained from asking questions until they were in the tunnel headed towards the Light Meditation Pool.
“Are you alright?” Corissa asked. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” G said.
“You don’t seem fine,” Corissa said.
“Well, I have been meditating for a moment,” G offered.
“My legs were kind of stiff.”
“How long have you been sitting there?” Corissa asked.
“Umm,” G said, puzzling over the question. “Maybe four or five days. I’ll have to ask Freya.” child.
“Four or five days? When was the last time you ate?” Corissa demanded, as if talking to a “In this body?” G clarified.
“What do you think?!” Corissa asked. “Umm, maybe four or five days,” G asked.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Corissa asked. “No,” G assured her.
“Not eating and exercising is suicide,” Corissa said. “All deaths are suicide,” G said.
“We are not having a metaphysical discussion about death. You are coming back with me to the Academy where you will have a series of supervised meals and you will stay at my place until I’m satisfied that you have recovered some strength and common sense,” Corissa said.
“Okay,” G said, bowing slightly. He paused by the door to his room which Corissa hadn’t noticed on the way down. He motioned for her to come in.
His room was Spartan, cut directly into the salt. There was collection of salt rocks in a hearth which glowed from a brilliance hidden underneath, like a campfire of embers. On the wall was a frame containing tear drop sized diamonds, not glowing but certainly reflecting the soft, ambient light, their tiny points contrasted against the material that held them. He invited Corissa to sit down while he fetched a thermos and two cups. He poured two cups of milk and handed one to her and then sat down across from her. She held the milk to her nose and frowned.
The bed was made of stone, the same salt that everything was carved out of and Corissa wondered how he could sleep on this, with nothing more than a towel he used for a pillow. The milk smelled funny. “I think this has gone bad,” Corissa said.
G smelled it, confused on how it could have gone bad so quickly in the protected thermos. “No, that’s what Wookie milk smells like,” he assured her, taking a swig. He noticed a slight tremor in his hands, probably due to not eating. The warm milk was immediately refreshing.
Corissa nearly threw up. She put the milk on the table. “That’s disgusting?”
“What is?” G asked.
“Wookie milk?!” Corissa complained. “It will put hair on your chest,” G joked.
“I don’t want hair on my chest!” Corissa snapped.
“Sorry, I was joking. How is any milk from any mammal any more or less nutritious? Ideally, I would prefer human milk, but Shariva is making more milk than her offspring can consume and she needed assistance. Did you know Wookies have six breasts? And their milk is the most nutritious and compatible for humans compared to all the alternatives available, short of human breast milk.”
Corissa sighed. “We are not talking about milk or breasts.”
G had doubts about that, but simply shrugged and drank more milk.
“Why is the Wookie here?” Corissa asked.
“She is banned from her world for practicing an older form of Shamanism. Technically, that’s not right. She is not really practicing as much as genetically predisposed to a particular perspective due to her family having a long line of Shamans. Her abilities were triggered by environmental factors, specifically severe physical trauma. She is my friend and I invited her here so that we might learn from each other,” G said. He paused. “Is this why you came to see me?”
“I came to see you because you haven’t been showing up to meetings,” Corissa said. “All you have to do is call me,” G said.
“No, you should keep a schedule,” Corissa said.
“I will try to serve you better,” G said, humbly.
“That’s not the point,” Corissa argued.
“What is the point?” G asked. “I don’t know,” Corissa said.
“After five years, if you don’t know, how can I know?”
“This community was your doing,” Corissa said.
“No, it was the Force’s doing and it’s running the way it should be,” G said.
“Doya told me the Clans are gathering to make me the mother of a new clan!” Corissa said. “I didn’t ask for this.”
“Not in so many words, but you are in charge, and rightfully so,” G said. “We’ll discuss this more after we get you upstairs and fed,” Corissa said.
“Alright,” G agreed, finishing off his milk. He reached for the cup he had poured for Corissa, confirmed she had no intentions of drinking it, and took a swig. “Before we head up, I wish to discuss something with you.”
“Okay, shoot,” Corissa said.
Using the force, he created a virtual hologram of a ship in front of them. It was cleaner and crisper than any hologram Corissa had ever seen, but clearly it a hologram. Corissa was immediately interested in the ship and G was glad to see her assessing it in terms of quality.
Known as the Starrunner-class, it was the product of the Corellian Manufacturing Corporation. It was thirty one meters long, considered a cargo class ship that could hold up to twenty metric tons. It could be crewed by one, but could hold up to six people comfortably, or more if not carrying full cargo. It was christened the ‘One-note.’
“Wow. From h