Leaving the room, I moved as fast as I could to my cabin. The door closed with a soft rustle, cutting me off from the outside world. My fist slammed into the wall.
Damn it. What is this? Where did this anger come from... I barely managed to calm down!
I collapsed to the floor and began repeating one of the Jedi mantras, trying at the same time to push my emotions away…
For quite some time I have been pondering this incident, and the reasons for this outburst. I came to some disappointing conclusions.
I was… overplaying my hand. The first few days after my transfer were like a fog — I took everything in with disbelief and a kind of exhilaration. Of course: the Galaxy far, far away, Jedi, Sith, the Force... The euphoria faded, my thoughts settled, and I realized that everything around me was reality with all its "charms." What at first my brain treated like some kind of game now felt real. I'd bitten off more than I could chew.
Yeah, right. A damn isekai— I know everything better than everyone else; I can do everything better than everyone else. It's nice to sit in a comfortable chair in front of a monitor and talk about things you don't even understand, or that sometimes don't even exist. How can you judge what you don't know?
And besides — I'm a Jedi. No. That's not right. I'm as much a Jedi as… a rancor is a ballerina. I am gifted, and that brings its own difficulties.
Only now do I understand the core of those different codes, Jedi and Sith alike. The Jedi renounced their feelings not because they lead to the Dark Side of the Force. That was not the whole reason. The gifted feel emotions differently, far more intensely than ordinary beings; for us there are no shades of gray. If it is calm, it is boundless like an ocean; if it is anger, it is merciless like a volcanic eruption. Revenge is revenge; love is love.
"There is no emotion; there is peace." I finally realized that at the heart of this rule was not a denial of emotion, per se, or the task of getting rid of it by subjecting life to the harsh rationality of an emotionless being. Not at all. The rule is only about keeping emotions under reasonable control, so that they do not play a decisive role when a Jedi needs to make an important and correct decision. If a Jedi does not control their emotions, the emotions begin to control the Jedi. That is unacceptable. Emotions can cloud objective judgment, blind a Jedi to the true goal, and lead to mistakes. One should not forget that uncontrollability and unbridled emotions lie at the heart of the Dark Side of the Force, and by giving in to emotions a Jedi becomes vulnerable to the Darkness.
And if the Jedi practice control, then the Sith — not the fakes like Ventress and Dooku, but the true ones — understand it far better. Only total control helps them use the Dark Side without sliding irretrievably into Darkness, without losing the last shreds of sanity. A falling Jedi becomes a Sith. A fallen Sith becomes a monster (though a Jedi might bypass the Sith stage entirely). Examples are everywhere: Palpatine lost control in his conflict with Windu and became a mad tyrant. Skywalker, already halfway to the Dark Side and losing control, became Darth Vader, who killed the one he loved and almost killed his children.
Yes. "There is no emotion; there is peace." It's the paramount rule. No coincidence it now sits first, though it used to be second. But I know exactly why things have changed. Fear opens the door to the Dark Side. Fear breeds anger. Anger breeds hatred. Hatred is the gateway to suffering. This is the path of the Dark Side — a road that leads only to destruction. It is the Dark Side that must always be feared, for it can confuse the Jedi, mislead them, and ultimately destroy them; this applies not only to Jedi. Replace the word "Jedi" with "Sith" — the truth remains the same.
That's how it is. And I, like any sane person who has encountered numerous sects of various sorts, as well as to drink to the full the saccharine speeches of many politicians, had been skeptical of such precepts, and in general about any teachings. Although for me they are of great importance. After all, I'm a Jedi. More precisely, my consciousness has replaced that of a Jedi, leaving only the memory of one. I've never seen war with my own eyes; I've never killed anyone. It's not that I would never hurt a fly (I have killed countless flies), but I'm not sure I could kill a sentient being. So far we've only fought droids — maybe that saved me. Feeling the death of your people is sorrowful. Feeling the death of enemies... that can slip into a kind of joy and eager anticipation, and I don't want that. I can't be a Sith. I just can't. And I'm fairly certain the tattoos on my face wouldn't suit me. Ugh.
Lines from the ancient Je'daii code came to mind: "In balance with chaos and harmony, immortal in the Force." Yes, balance would do me good; otherwise my flight will be bright and brief. How many Jedi have fallen to the Dark Side during the war? Several dozen at least — and that's only the ones I know about.
Yes. Knowledge. The cornerstone, my ass. If I use what I know to try to change the course of particular events, subsequent outcomes will inevitably shift. So my knowledge becomes useless. But I can't do nothing either, because my actions, whether I intend them or not, are already altering things.
I need to think very carefully about whether to intervene — and if so, how. Would I even be able to do it? In small matters, certainly. In higher spheres... something I am not sure. There are powerful players up there. Even though the first point of my plan has been fulfilled, I have a vague idea of what to do next. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I truly do not want to die, and saving others would be worth the risk. Ahsoka, for example...
Damn. How complicated everything is...
I'll have to apologize to Ahsoka. I think I hurt her feelings…
(End of Chapter)
If you like what I'm doing and feel like helping out, my P@treon is /SadRaven. Your support means a lot!