I must begin making my plans.
I suppose that when I started all this, when I first left Tython, when I decided to come to Coruscant to begin my training and research, that I didn’t imagine my path would lie in this direction. No, I *know* I had no thoughts of what has happened so far. I was and still am, to a very great degree, an innocent.
But the groundwork was there. From the words one of my early tutors on Tython once spoke to me, to my own observations and questioning of the Code even while I was training, there has been a seed of doubt as to the strict necessity of the Jedi Council’s rules and regulations. It didn’t seem to make logical sense, some of their requirements. Demands. There are reasons, of course, very solid ones, in terms of controlling one’s emotions, in being the sort of stable and steady character that is required for diplomatic work and fighting in the field. But there the line begins to blur, that I began to see where from a psychological stand point it was not only unnecessary, but in fact more harmful to the individual or individuals involved.
The Jedi have something of a unique place in the galaxy. There are many religions and spiritual movements that require celibacy or some form of restraint in that fashion. And that is fair and good, as people who join such orders do so of their own volition, understanding what is to be
required of them. However, such movements rarely have a such a vibrant, active role in the larger political and even militant actions of the galaxy and Galactic Senate. They keep to themselves, and yet they have such a enormous impact on the universe around them. I would think that as such they would keep the more spiritual aspects of the Order separate from…I’m not sure. The argument of course is that it is precisely the Jedi’s spirituality, their calm serenity, that makes them such effective fighters and diplomats, and one would be correct, but at what cost to force all who are sent to training follow that same calm?
Fundamentalism is a brick wall. And it is that brick wall that the Jedi are building around and for themselves. The problem is that while this wall is strong, is steady, and protects those it encircles, it is not without flaws. If but a few bricks are removed, in the right places, it becomes drastically weakened. Cracks appear. So it is, I fear, with the Jedi. They fear anger, they fear deep emotion, and they control it, so when one is raised within their Order, one is told how terrible and how dangerous these emotions are. And then one assumes that if they feel anger, if they feel great sadness, or love, or any emotion of any great strength, especially the negative ones, their mental well being and their connection to the Light is forfeit.
Perhaps I speak too bitterly, or out of bias, but it is a truth that has been creeping slowly out from the corners of my own thoughts. Observations I have made through a training that has lasted most of my childhood, words I have heard from people raised in the wider world, pain I have seen in their hearts and minds. And slowly, and then faster in recent months, I have begun to doubt. Question, as I have always done. And questioning more when I realized that despite my doubts, despite my thoughts, I remain as firm in the Light as I have ever been. Stronger, it seems, then before. Love has crept into my heart and built a fire that does not scorch, but warms. I have not been tempted, I have not fallen to the Dark Side, as the Jedi understand it. I am myself. Changed, but perhaps for the better.
Although I have my own ideas on the nature of the Force itself, I do not doubt that for me the Light is a definitive aspect of my spirituality. It is within me, and it gives me strength. A strength bolstered by the training I have received. And it breaks my heart to think that the Order that taught me these things, that showed me the Light, could so doubt me, doubt my commitment, that I would not be permitted to remain with them for the simple crime of falling in love. I don’t want to leave. I am a Jedi, and I always will be. I will always seek the betterment of others, to
help guide those that are lost, to help those that are in the greatest need. This is a thing they cannot take away from me. I cannot lose my compassion.
I have been warned that the Council may take my thoughts ill, perhaps gravely so, and that the punishment could be severe. This is where I doubt, because the gentle masters I knew, stern though they could be, are not cruel beings. They are not without reason or compassion. There will be arguments, and there will be pain, and so I must prepare and meditate before I make my first approach. And for Brembal, and for my friends, I will do so carefully. I will take steps so that I may leave quickly and quietly, and Light forbid, should the worst happen, whatever that may be, that there are safeguards and steps in place to prevent greater harm from happening.
What an innocent I am. I never thought a simple discussion, meant for research only, could lead to this. That my simple self, naive and unfraid, could cause such an effect around me. I can only pray now that my parents remain ignorant of the problems that put my thoughts into such a grave place.