"Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life."
[Proverbs 4:23]
Master and Padawan once again stand within the domed grandeur of the Jedi Temple's circular Council chamber on the city-planet Coruscant. Obi-Wan Kenobi stands a respectful distance behind Qui-Gon Jinn, head bowed slightly in the correct posture of obedience, hands tucked up, monk-like, into the wide, flowing sleeves of his robe.
The pair is accompanied by a little tow-headed boy at Qui-Gon's side who shifts his weight restlessly from foot to foot. His excitement and nervousness are palpable in the Force. But his stance is nevertheless resolute and his eyes flash determination.
There is an air of expectancy about the rotunda as they await the Council's decision.
Patiently (not idly, for a true Jedi always finds a focus for his attention and is never bored) Obi-Wan studies the imposing majesty of the enormous durasteel pillars which encircle the room and support the high, vaulted ceiling. The transparent expanses of deceptively-thin glass between them look out over the ecumenopolis, and he contemplates the muted frantic activity of skybound traffic.
Chaos without. Order within. The Temple is an island of tranquility in the midst of a sea of pandemonic disarray.
Strange, how civilization itself can be so…uncivilized.
His mind's eye observes how perfectly precise is the spire's architectural mimicry of the structure of the Order – and the heart of the true Jedi.
The strong columns represent the tenets of the Code: the Jedi's solid foundation of wisdom; the anchor to the Will of the Force. The outside world's inane confusion and plethora of extraneous cares are pushed to the periphery of existence by rigorous training (both mental and physical) in self-discipline: conquered, arrogance; conquered, self-importance – conquered, any selfish personal motivation; thus is ground the lens of pure objectivity through which the Jedi views and interprets the secular. As the transparent windows surround the physical body to filter one's view of the universe, this lens surrounds the spiritual heart.
Together, pillars and panes, Code and training, construct the room, the dwelling-place…and what resides within is the immutable core of both Order and Jedi heart:
The mystery of the Force itself. For the inestimable power which connects all living beings to each other, guiding and shaping their existence, is itself – more than just a manifestation – a product of life.
An energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us; it binds the galaxy together.
The Jedi's compass, the Force is at once a genesis and a creation…unblemished perfection.
Like a protective shield, the Jedi's intangible mental structure allows nothing to breach the sanctity it contains. Thus:
There is no emotion, there is peace.
There is no passion, there is serenity.
There is no chaos, there is harmony.
So is the cacophony of the external world removed, remote…
But not isolated. For the Code also states:
There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.
The Jedi must experience emotion, passion, chaos in order to reject them for peace, serenity, harmony. This is crucial to understanding and identifying with the strife faced by those whom they aid.
Called to be served, we are not – but called, we are, to serve.
For a Jedi's first vocation is compassion. And compassion can only be learned through empathy.
Such is the lot of the Jedi: to walk the knife-thin edge of balance as the trapeze artist traverses the high wire, thrust into and engulfed by the maelstrom – but never consumed by it, destined to be the eternally-calm eye of the storm.
Yet a Jedi is not infallible, and is consequentially afflicted with naturally mortal weaknesses like any other being. So are there cracks in the great steel pillars, flaws in the glass – and the howling whirlwinds may tear through and shatter the inner sanctuary of peace…
Even as Obi-Wan's impromptu meditation reaches this conclusion, Grand Master Yoda rises to break him out of his reverie, addressing those present –
"To be trained, the boy is not."
"But… He is the Chosen One – you must see it!"
Sympathy for his Master's disappointed disbelief fills Obi-Wan's heart. Ever concerned with the fulfillment of 'the Will of the Force', Qui-Gon follows the impulse to 'live in the present moment' as if were an unspoken creed – consequences be damned.
But the Council must needs give some thought to the future – even if it is always in motion (as Yoda is so fond of reminding them all). What would become of the boy, trained in Jedi arts but rendered by fear unable to hold the Jedi precepts always in his heart?
The Senior Padawan is only slightly perturbed. True, he had had a premonition that the Council's verdict would be so, and had admitted as much to Qui-Gon. And yet…the boy is immensely strong in the Force – shouldn't such power be of best use once tamed, controlled, moulded and refined, by proper instruction?
Therefore Obi-Wan's shock is tempered (even if only slightly) with understanding when Qui-Gon sets his chin, eyes fixed and hard with resolve, as he lets fall the hammer blow:
"Then I will train the boy."
Obi-Wan watches now, as though caught in an absurd daydream, while the Council forcibly reminds Qui-Gon of his duty towards his current Padawan and the Master, true to his maverick style, rebuts their arguments by extoling said Padawan's virtues, declaring him (more or less) ready for the Trials of Knighthood.
In one bluntly decisive move, the tenuous circle binding Master and Padawan together has been broken…
It is neither a betrayal nor a rejection, he keeps telling himself. If anything, it is a compliment – albeit it an unconventional one. Should the Council accept Qui-Gon's terms – unorthodox though they may be – Obi-Wan will become the youngest Knight in the Order's long and revered history…quite a noteworthy achievement.
Apart from displaying the typical Jinn lack of tact, Qui-Gon is not to blame for Obi-Wan's loss of his centre, or his current inability to appreciate the dubious honor being bestowed upon him. Had he not gone so far as to warn his (former) Padawan, "I will do what I must"?
Anakin, too, is blameless in this affair. He is merely a victim of circumstance – as is Obi-Wan himself. Fate has bound the boy to Qui-Gon, just as surely as fate is using him as a wedge to drive Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon apart…
For the first time since their initial meeting, Obi-Wan reflects on just how alike he and Anakin Skywalker are – both without a place in life to truly call their own…ever-searching wanderers with all their moorings severed to leave them adrift on a sea of uncertainty.
Why, then, do anger and jealousy rise to war within his breast, as the first sinuous, skeletal fingers of doubt and darkness pry open his inner sanctum of balance…
In the end, all Obi-Wan can do is ask himself (and the omniscient Force), rather fearfully:
"What is to become of me, now?"