Chapter 12 you can run
Jordeen was instructing Ten in the preparation of a meal, which had become rather quickly, a monotonous, ‘chore’ of chopping a variety of vegetables and putting them in bowls. In addition to keeping Ten on task, the process of teaching was slowed down due to the fact that Jordeen had never measured her portions, but simply improvised as she went along, which often meant her meals varied in taste, though never in quality. She just had an instinct. Teaching instinct, without an underlying level of understanding was challenging. She tried building a theory by suggesting one needs color in a meal. Greens were needed to build a strong base and to open heart energies, but oranges, reds, and yellows were just as critical for physical nuttition as well as opening etheric energy centers that supported the heart. She also carried a philosophy that plants were as aware as any animal, and she comforted the exchange with gratitude. Ten did display an instinct with knives, but had never really used them for anything kitchen practical, and so after cutting herself twice, she finally slowed down and focused on dicing the way she was being instructed. They worked together on an island, trying to figure out how to not get in each others way while also working together. Behind them was a plate glass window allowing the setting sun to diffuse gently through, over a large, 3 chambered sink. Jordeen paused to giggle, centering herself with deep breaths until the moment passed, and then continued to work.
“You sure laugh a lot,” Ten said.
“I do,” Jordeen agreed.
“You better not be showing me how to cook because you think its women’s work and that’s all I can do,” Ten complained, pointing the knife at her.
“I’m not,” Jordeen assured her.
“Be respectful where you point the knife, as it can still direct energy.
“I don’t understand,” Ten said.
“Every gesture, whether you are conscious of it or not, has meaning, both real and metaphoric, and it caries energies and it shapes the worlds. The knife has meaning. Holding it channels energy, just like holding crystals channel energy. Energy moves in waves, ripples, and it always comes back to source,” Jordeen said.
“Focus on what you’re doing and do this with love. If you see this activity as a chore, it will negatively affect the taste and the nutritional value. How you serve it also affects it. Everyone here will participate in cooking because it allows everyone to practice love.”
“Love? How is food love?”
“Oh, how is food not love?” Jordeen asked.
“All of this is an intimate part of our lives. From an extreme perspective, both plants and animals sacrifice to sustain us. From another perspective, what we eat becomes one with us, literally, metaphorically, and sharing their energies is an entwining of spirit.”
“Yeah, well I don’t know about all of that. I just need something in my stomach to get by and just want it to taste reasonably enough that I don’t gag,” Ten said.
“And so far, this is much more work than opening a package of ‘shindles’ and being on my way.”
Jordeen was saddened that Ten’s idea of food was a snack bag, but she was not surprised since the child probably never had a sit down, family meal.
“Good nutrition, good health, is love and work, and it requires a time investment,” she explained.
“We do this in order to slow down and be present in the moment.”
“There is nothing in this moment necessary for us to slow down! It’s like completely dead. What I wouldn’t do for some music!” Ten said, exasperated.
“Preparing food is music,” Jordeen said.
Ten bit her tongue.
“So, everyone cooks is a rule?”
“Not an official rule, I guess, but if we’re going to be a community we will all have to participate, share the load. Don’t you agree?” Jordeen asked.
“Even Preston?” Ten asked.
“Especially Preston,” Jordeen said.
“Why especially?” Ten asked.
Corissa entered, smiled at the scene, came up behind Ten, touching her shoulder.
“How’s it going?”
Ten turned suddenly, the knife going into Corissa’s stomach.
“Don’t touch me! Ever,” Ten yelled. Her conscious mind caught up to what her brain had directed her body to do. Time seemed to stop. The most prominent sound was her own heart beat thundering in her ears. Jordeen’s words echoed in her head: ‘slow down, be present in the moment... the knife has meaning.’ Jordeen gasped and laughed. Something fell from the cabinet and broke. The aromas of the food mingled with the smell of human blood. There was a lot of blood, pooling out over the knife and her hand. It was warm. Corissa was breathless. Maybe it was surprise, or maybe she was in so much pain that she was breathless. Ten tried to apologize, tried to undo it by pulling the knife out, but that only seemed to make things worse. She bolted for the door.
Corissa was in more shock than pain, not to say that she wasn’t in pain, but she made no noise as her hand covered the wound on her abdomen, which didn’t halt the flow of blood, or what was most likely fecal matter. She thought it odd how warm it was and then thought how odd it was to be thinking about how warm it was as she started to sway back on her slow motion fall to the floor. She could identify the smell of blood, fecal matter, chopped vegetables and an assortment of spices that Jordeen had found in the kitchen that were still usable. Jordeen eased her fall, and tried covering the wound with a towel, forgetting that she had wiped her hands of a spicy vegetable, which only doubled Corissa’s pain.
“Pink,” Jordeen yelled at the Droid.
“Get help!”
The Droid had already been whistling up a cry for help, spinning about, wanting to be useful. It whistled a sad whine as Preston arrived, moving hastily towards Corissa as if he had known she was in distress. Other R2 units arrived on Preston’s shadow, equally distressed. He knelt down beside Corissa, took her left hand in his and pushed her hair back out of her eyes with his other. Freya arrived with a med kit. She didn’t bother to offer it, as her assessment was that it would be insufficient, but she remained near in case the human element required more effort.
“I need your permission,” Preston said.
“Go after Ten,” Corissa said.
“First thing’s first. May I heal you?” Preston asked.
There was a kindness in her eyes that wasn’t always accessable, almost a subtle light, as if there was enough love and understanding to sustain her through this moment, making the pain bearable. She knew she was not ready to die. She knew there was something she needed to do, and Ten became her anchor. She didn’t require faith, as she had the first time she had ever been healed by him, but she was surprised that the memory of that event was suddenly available to her, with astounding clarity that it was almost like reliving it.
“Please,” Corissa said.
Preston closed his eyes, put his hand on her forehead and a hand over her heart, and not only did her wounds close from the inside out, but all the blood and other bio matter was cleaned and removed from her flesh. Only the clothing and the floor had evidence that she had been severely injurred. He also did not mend the clothes. Jordeen was not surprised by the healing, she was tearful with joy.
Corissa sat up. She touched Preston’s face, gently. There was an emotion pushing at her, but she couldn’t define it. Time seemed to have slowed and sunlight flowed around her as if it were a warm breeze. And then she started crying, hugging his neck. She wanted to stand, so he and Jordeen guided her to her feet.
“We have to go after her,” Corissa said.
“No,” Preston said.
“What do you mean no?!” Corissa asked, her normal script taking over the surreal moment of peace she had just experienced.
“All her life she has been running. People chase, bring her back, and the cycles starts all over again,” Preston explained. He kissed a tear away from her cheek.
“It’s time to end this.”
“She’s a child, Preston,” Corissa said.
“She’s alone. A city girl, in a strange world, no wilderness smarts, and…”
“She’s not alone, Corissa,” Preston said.
“Nothing bad will happen to her.” Corissa tears fell, but the only noise she made was her breathing.
“This will be tough, Corissa, but it will not be the hardest thing you have to face. I’m asking you to trust the Force,” Preston said. The way he said, ‘it will not be the hardest thing you have to face’ sent a chill down her bone, and a part of her mind started inventorying, wondering what could be worse than this moment. And what was that? A spontaneous premonition? Did he know something about her that she needed to pursue? It froze her. He took her hand in his.
“I want you to go lie down, calm your mind, project love towards Ten. Jordeen, go with her. There shouldn’t be any side effects to the healing, but sometimes older, emotional wounds can come to the surface, and, well, it’s just best she’s not alone. Also, she needs clear fluids.”
Jordeen nodded, took Corissa’s arm, and they headed away. Corissa paused to look back at Preston once, but he was already moving towards the exit. The Droids were following him.
Freya caught up to Preston’s side.
“I am capable of pursuing and bringing back the child,” she offered, about to remind him of the number of upgrades he had made.
“Yes you are,” Preston agreed.
“But I need you to remain. Ten will be back.”
“The odds of her surviving a night in the wilderness alone…” Freya began.
“Freya,” Preston interrupted.
“Are you able to sense the Force?”
“I do not believe there are sensors capable of detecting this phenomenon, but if there are, I am certainly not equipped to do so,” Freya said.
“Interesting. Fixit was. I wonder if you can learn,” Preston said.
“Naturally, I am interested in developing sensitivies that would allow me to better understand the environment and those I serve, however, I think the child’s safe return should be our immediate priority,” Freya insisted.
“I agree,” Preston said, sitting down in the middle of the court yard, facing the main entrance. He closed his eyes and began a meditation.
“Sir?” Freya asked.
“Sit with me,” Preston instructed.
Freya sat down.
“I find this course of action to be irrational,” Freya insisted.
♫♪►
Members from every tribe had gathered around a communal fire to discuss the latest drama. Many were not happy that they hadn’t marched straight to war, but Mar was so well respected that she had been able to subdue the panick. Only a few representived spoke, the others watched, studying the politics of it all.
“There’s got to be something more that you can tell us about him,” Metta said.
“The Force is strong with him,” Doya said.
“Pfft, a baby could discern that. Tell us something we don’t know,” Mar said.
“I’ve never experience such Force strength with someone who was so,” Doya sighed, looking for a relatively good word. Only one came to mind.
“Neutral. I would bet my life on the fact he is a good man, but he is not like any Jedi we hve ever encountered. He lives by his own code.”
“And you really sent him after a Bloog pearl?” Metta asked Mar.
Mar shrugged, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. The spirit of the Three Sisters has accepted him, of that I am the most certain and if that spirit chose him for this work, then that explains why no one else has been able to return the Three Sisters to its previous glory. Additionally, many of the ghosts that were there have moved on. Light is gathering once again. If he brings back a pearl I will consider him worthy.”
“Worhty of what?” Pol asked.
“Of participating in a ritual,” Mar said.
“That could kill him,” Metta argured.
“As if you care. You were all set to rush into battle against him without even knowing who or what you faced. A lot of people might have died, Metta. You’re lucky the herd refused to march,” Mar said.
“Anyone know the why of that yet?”
“Maybe the spirit of Three Sisters has spoke with them,” Jain said.
“They are often more in tuned with nature than we.”
“Perhaps. But if he survives a ritual, Mar, we are obligated to offer kinship rights, or start a new clan,” Metta said.
“There are enough clans and too many on the counsel as it is.”
“Feel free to step down any time you don’t want a voice,” Mar offered.
“Everyone deserves a voice, even if they aren’t clan. As far as I’m concerned, he is family already,” Doya said.
“Yeah, yeah, you slept with him,” Pol said, disgusted.
“If it weren’t for the ritual, you would have made half the planet family.”
“Oh, not half,” Doya laughed.
“So, you sleeping with him is your only bias?” Pol asked.
“For good play, you took it upon yourself to make this deal.”
“Again, not the only criteria,” Doya said.
“Look, we can’t police this territory forever. Between infringements from expansions, off world settlers, the poachers, and the looming threat of junkers finally coming in to salvage what’s there, I saw this as an opportunity. This is a Force event, something we used to not take lightly. Hell, the Herd mother likes him. That says something, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” Mar said.
“And he is carries the Light of Ashia.”
“That’s not possible…” Metta said
“He spoke the word?” Pol said.
“He did and he didn’t,” Mar said.
“For now, allow the Force to unfold this as it wills. Doya and I will comtinue to be the liason between Preston and the clans.”
“Doya is bias,” Pol complained.
“So am I,” Mar said.
♫♪►
Ten found herself at the wall next to the zip line. Without thinking, she put on the harness, sat on the wall, connected the carabiner to the line, and then pushed free. It wasn’t till she was falling that she considered that perhaps jumping wasn’t the greatest idea. There was sufficient time on the ride down for her to remind herself why she was fleeing: she had just killed Corissa. The harm she had done couple with the fact she didn’t know how to slow her descent escalated her fear. The descent eventually leveled out, then rose, and the rise brought her to a rest above a platform. Once her feet were on solid, she was able to disconnect from the line and remove the harness. She found several backpacks with supplies under the platform, and one of three speeder bikes. She took one bag and climbed up on the closest bike. It took a moment to figure out the controls, but it wasn’t rocket science. Turning it on was simple enough, driving it was more difficult. The bike lurched forwards, fairly fast, and then twisted into a sideward pitch. She panicked and popped the clutch; it was off like a rocket. The landscape directly around her shot by in a blurr, the bike rising and falling with the terrain, shooting through a series of trees before breaking out over a plain. There was still enough ambient light to see fairly well, but it was fading fast. She tried forcing herself to look ahead to a point in the distance, but rocks and grass swept by her legs drawing her gaze down. Something whizzed by her right and she turned her head to see if she could make it out. The bike tried to follow the direction of concentration, which put her in a spin. The tail of the bike dropped, bucked the ground, and that was the end of semi controlled flight. The ride lasted all of ten minutes before she crashed and was tossed from the vehicle. She landed on her stomach, and slid a couple feet, tumbled once due to the unevenness of the ground, and came to rest on her butt. She tried to sit up, but found the back pack too heavy, and the world ‘spiraling’ too much to allow her to get up, so she lay back down.
Ten lay there, looking up at the sky. The backpack was uncomfortable, but she didn’t take it off. She wished she could go anywhere just by thinking. Her fantasy of having her own spaceship was renewed. She could be out there, alone, not harming anyone, not needing anyone. She wished she had been able to take Pink, but then, she rationalized all the reasons why she didn’t deserve a Droid, couldn’t care for one.
“I told you, it was over here!” came a triumphant voice.
Ten sat up. She could discern a figure, but other than it was humanoid, she had no clue. It was probably Preston and a search team. The torch the person carried illuminated the crashed speeder bike. Killed a woman and destroyed a bike, she lamented. There was no going back for her. She had to hide. There was another torch panning across the knee high grass a short ways away. She forced herself to her feet and moved in a direction away from the search. Because she was looking backwards over her shoulders, she didn’t see the man in front of her until he closed his arms around her.
“Got you!” he said, laughing. He shined a light in her face. His laugh was evil, and his breath not much better.
“Over here, guys!”
His friends joined him and they were all amused.
“What a prize. And I though tonight was going to be a bad night for poaching.”
“I caught her, so I’m first.”
“Let me go,” Ten said.
“Oh, yay, a fighter,” he said, tearing at her clothes.
“Hold her arms.”
His friends took her arms while he pulled out a knife. The knife flashed under a half moon. So did his teeth, what were remaining, jagged, and with gaps.
“Please, don’t hurt me, I’ll do whatever you want,” Ten pleaded.
“Of course you will,” he said, bringing the knife towards her. He slipped the knife under the straps and cut the backpack free.
“Out here, all alone, no one to protect you.” He cut her belt and pulled it free from her pants.
The men were so focused on unwrapping their prize, they didn’t see the Rancor that had slipped up on them. The man with the knife was in midair before he even pieced together what was happening, and his head was off and swallowed before he could think of an appropriate expletive. One of his friends ran. The Rancor threw the headless body at the runner, bowling him down. The third was struggling to get his weapon free. The Rancor crushed him under his foot, picked him up, and threw him down the ravine. The one that had ran was moaning, which prompted the Rancor to go finish him off.
Satisfied, the Rancor turned back to the girl. She had not run. She held her ground. It bobbed its head and made a light chuffing noise.
“Go ahead. Finish me off!” Ten yelled. The Rancor barked.
“Go on! Kill me already,” Ten said. The Rancor barked.
“Well, I’m not going to wait here all night,” Ten said.
She turned and tripped over her backpack. She hit the ground hard, adding another bruise to her already numerable injuries. The Ranchor seemed to be laughing, which pissed her off. She got back up, picked up her backpack and carried it in her arms in front of her. The Rancor followed. She really couldn’t make out its features under the light of the moons, but she knew it was there. The ground shook as he walked. She stopped, trying to get a better grip on the backpack.
“Stop following me,” Ten told it. It growled.
“Fine, you can follow me if you want,” Ten said, resuming her walk. It barked.
“Yeah, well, I don’t understand you either,” Ten said.
The contents of her backpack spilled out and the bag collapse. Ten sat down, trying to gather the things back up, and simply started crying.
“Nothing ever works out for me,” Ten lamented.
“Why is the world like this? Why can’t I be happy without dying!”
She lay down, pounded the ground, and screamed up at the night. She continued to cry until she went to sleep.
♫♪►
Ten was in an open field, smiling at a flower.
“Is this a dream?” she asked.
“Does it matter?” Preston asked.
Ten looked up at the sun, took a deep breath in. As she took it in, her arms went out, like wings unfolding, and her palms faced the sun. She felt the warmth against her skin, felt it circulating, felt her heart warming.
“You feel that?” Preston asked.
“The light? Yeah,” Ten said, airy and light.
“Good for you,” Preston said.
“The Force is strong here,” Ten observed. Preston laughed.
Her expression changed, starting with a micro flash of pain followed by anger.
“What?” Ten demanded. She was surprised that she could emote anger here, surrounded by so much love and peace.
“That’s funny,” Preston said.
“I don’t like it when you laugh at me,” Ten said.
Preston tried a somber look, but couldn’t maintain it.
“I’m sorry.”
“What’s so funny?!” Ten demanded. The sky was so… rich. Why couldn’t she just be happy? Why couldn’t she just flow with it?
“Your analysis,” Preston answered.
“How am I wrong?” Ten said.
“You’re annoyed, but you’re not a droid,” Preston said.
“Stop being silly”
“I’m happy,” Preston said.
“Why?” Ten asked.
“The fact that you’re aware of the Force here is a ‘yay you’ moment,” Preston said.
“But you pooped on my observation,” Ten said. This dialogue felt weird to her. Why was she here? How could there be so much anger in her when there was nothing but goodness as far as her eyes could see.
“If you permit that the Force pervades all existence, then perhaps it is your awareness of the Force that waxes and wanes, and not that this particular place or time holds any more significance than that place over there. The idea that this place being especially endowed with Force qualities is as absurd as saying only certain people, or certain families, are entitled to accessing the Force. It is a birth right of all. It is the very fabric of all existence,” Preston stated.
“Now that sounds like you, but that’s too profound to be true,” Ten said. The anger painting her face intensified.
“Why am I rhyming?! I don’t like rhyming.”
Preston only smiled.
“I wish this was a story where a prince would come and wake me up with a kiss,” Ten said.
“No you don’t,” Preston argued.
“Yes, I do,” Ten argued.
“If you really wanted it, it would have already happened, so you need to go deeper, discover what you really, really want,” Preston said.
“I know what I really really want! I want to know this has all been a mistake! This isn’t the life I was supposed to have,” Ten said, as if pleading for her reality to change.
“There is no ‘supposed to’. There is no life. There is only the story. Right now, someone is looking down on you, as if watching a holo and you are teaching them vicariously,” Preston explained.
“How absurd,” Ten said.
“What can I teach? I’m no one.”
“You are someone to everyone. The trick is remembering it is just a story you tell yourself, they tell themselves,” Preston said.
“This is not a story! I feel this! This is something!” she said, tapping her heart.
“It is something, and yet, just a moment ago you said you were no one. Perhaps what you are feeling is merely your own anger disturbing the Force. You’re feeling your own feedback,” Preston said.
“First of all, I’m not angry. And second of all… Stop laughing. It’s not funny. I am serious. I am the embodiment of seriousness. I am a Jedi and I am calm…”
Preston laughed so hard he had to sit down.
“I am not happy! Jedi’s are not happy. Yoda would not tolerate this kind of behavior!” Ten insisted.
“Luminous beings we are, playing in sandboxes,” Preston said.
“The world is a sandbox?”
Preston scooped up sand where there was once grass and let it fall from his hand, between his fingers, catching wind and light, like droping sparks from an arc welder against steel.
“There are more stars than all the grains of sand on all the beaches on all the inhabited worlds. We are crystalized stars. It’s a star box!”
“Stop messing around. I’m running out of time.”
“There is no time,” Preston said.
“Stop it. I want you to make me a lightsaber,” Ten asked.
“Nope.”
“That’s not fair,” Ten said.
“There is no fairness,” Preston said.
“Finally, we agree on something,” Ten said. Ten sat down in front of him.
“Will you teach me to make one, then?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Have you ever killed anyone with yours?” she asked.
“I killed a Droid,” Preston admitted.
“That doesn’t count,” she protested.
“Does it?”
“It does to me,” it was simple and solemn and reverent.
“I want one,” Ten said.
“A Droid? I gave you Pink.”
“No, I want a lightsaber,” Ten pleaded.
“Why?” Preston asked, serious.
“For defense,” Ten said.
“Then you are not ready,” Preston said. Ten sulked.
“I don’t understand.”
“Rely first on the Force. It is with you always,” Preston explained.
“Okay, fine. At least teach me that trick where you clean toilets with the Force,” Ten asked.
“If you are unwilling to clean toilets with your hands, you definitely won’t want to clean it with the Force,” Preston said.
“Magic, shamanism, and Jediism is not the lazy man’s alternative to hard work. Being a Jedi requires a greater level of discipline than any other regimen one can engage in. If that weren’t true, all would be Jedi.”
“That can’t be true, there are lots of Jedi that do things without discipline,” Ten argued.
Preston shrugged with his head, not being able to argue against that.
“There are also people who are strong without exercising and people who can do math without practice and people who can play musical instruments naturally,” Preston agreed.
“But one person trained and disciplined in the Force is more powerful than a thousand beings that lucked into the ability.”
“Then give me more luck, because snapping my fingers and making it clean sounds pretty damn appealing and easy if you ask me,” Ten said.
“Touching something with the Force is much more intimate than physically touching it. Using the force is like using all of your senses combined at once, times ten thousand, mixed with senses you didn’t even know you had,” Preston said.
“Learn practical stuff before magical stuff.”
“Why?!”
“There is no why,” Preston said.
“There is always a why!”
“There are no spiders, only the thought of spiders, so you are not responding to spiders, you’re responding to your thoughts on spiders, and that is why there is no why.”
“You may have said something intelligible, but I didn’t follow. I want something more tangible!” Ten insisted.
“Reach out and touch the sky,” Preston ordered.
Ten complied and discovered the sky was palpable, it moved like pushing into a hanging sheet. She stood up into it, like standing into a tent wall. Sunlight flowed across her hand likes streams of water, her extended fingers stirring vortexes in the air, spinning light rings like so much smoke. It stuck to her fingers and pulled back. She started to panick, as if stuck in a web.
“This is a dream, Ten. The sky is you, the ground is you, I am you, everything is you,” Preston said.
“Every thought here can be realized through focused awareness. Anger has amphetamine and analgesic affects. Crashing always follows amphetamine use. Crashing always follows anger. You can’t sustain anger indefinitely. You will crash. Anger can be subtle, sneaky. If we disparage others, assign malevolence, incompetence, or idiocy to any observed behavior, we have engaged with anger and we suffer, not the other. It diminishes our ability to see truth, to see others, to see ourselves accurately. That is why you are not ready for a lightsaber. You are still at war with yourself. You would kill yourself.”
“So how can you ever fight someone if you are always trying to hold this higher conception of them?” Ten asked.
Preston nodded, smiling.
“Compassionate assertiveness,” he answered.
“You recognize your participation both cognitively and emotionally, you declare your boundaries, you retreat where you can, you fight where you must. You learn to love. You embrace the consequences of every thought, every action, without disparaging self or others.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Love has always been the harder path,” Preston agree