Meditation
Asa's struggles with meditation were rooted in the silence and stillness of traditional methods, particularly when practiced indoors. The quiet of the room felt suffocating to her, amplifying every stray thought and restless impulse. She'd sit cross-legged in the workshop, trying to focus as Varan instructed, but her mind would wander almost immediately, and her hands would fidget with anything nearby. Without something to ground her energy, the practice felt impossible.
One day, after yet another frustrating attempt, Asa sighed heavily, throwing up her hands. "I can't do this, Varan. It's too… quiet! My brain goes nuts when there's nothing to focus on."
Varan studied her for a moment, then stood. "Alright. Let's change the setting."
He led her outside to the edge of the Spirewood, where the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant calls of wildlife replaced the oppressive silence. The natural hum of life immediately caught Asa's attention, giving her something to latch onto.
"Sit," Varan instructed, gesturing to a soft patch of moss beneath a tree. Asa obeyed, glancing around at the swaying branches and the faint shimmer of sunlight filtering through the canopy.
"This is better," she admitted, her voice softer now.
"Good. Now, close your eyes," Varan said, his tone steady. "But this time, don't block out the world. Let yourself feel it. The wind, the sounds, the life around you—let the Force connect you to all of it."
Asa hesitated but complied, her hands instinctively reaching out to touch the moss beneath her. The texture grounded her, and as she focused on the sensations—the cool earth, the whisper of a breeze against her face, the distant chirp of a bird—her mind began to quiet.
For the first time, she felt the Force not as something abstract, but as a tangible presence woven into the world around her.
The breakthrough deepened when Varan introduced a small wooden object he had carved—a simple, smooth sphere with grooves that her fingers could trace. He handed it to her during one of their outdoor sessions, watching as she turned it over in her hands curiously.
"What's this for?" Asa asked, running her thumb along the grooves.
"It's something to focus on," Varan explained. "Channel the Force through it. Let it give your hands something to do while your mind clears."
Asa smiled faintly, already rolling the sphere between her palms. "You really get me, don't you?"
Varan chuckled. "I've had some time to figure you out."
With the sphere in hand, Asa found it easier to settle into meditation. The physical act of tracing the grooves and feeling the energy flow through the object helped anchor her, giving her restless mind a way to focus without feeling trapped. Combined with the natural rhythm of the outdoors, the sphere became a vital part of her practice.
The soft hum of the Spirewood surrounded Asa and Varan as they sat near the abandoned Jedi Temple, its once-proud structure partially reclaimed by nature. The towering trees swayed gently, their branches forming a canopy that allowed speckled sunlight to filter through. The air was cool, the ground soft with moss and fallen leaves. It was the perfect place to meditate, away from the noise of the settlement and steeped in the lingering presence of the Force.
Varan sat cross-legged with practiced ease, his calm presence a steady anchor. Asa mirrored his posture, her burnt-orange shawl draped loosely over her shoulders. She clutched her fidget tool, her fingers tracing its grooves as she focused on her breathing. The soft sounds of the forest—the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of birds—created a natural rhythm that steadied her restless mind.
"Feel the Force around you," Varan said quietly, his voice calm and even. "Let it flow through you. The Spirewood is alive with it."
Asa nodded slightly, her eyes closed as she reached out with the Force. At first, she focused on the immediate: the gentle rustling of the trees, the faint vibrations of life moving through the forest floor. It was comforting, grounding. She could feel the interconnectedness of everything around her, the way the Force wove through every leaf and root.
But as her awareness stretched further, something shifted. At the edge of her perception, beyond the familiar hum of the forest, she felt it.
It was faint at first, like the distant hum of a storm on the horizon. Asa's breath hitched as the sensation grew stronger, brushing against her awareness like a ripple in a vast ocean. Her chest tightened as recognition blossomed within her: she had felt this before, during one of the most profound moments of her life.
The memory of her kyber crystal attunement came flooding back. She remembered the vision vividly—standing on the edge of a cliff, the Spirewood stretching out before her, and the Aurora Storm illuminating the valley below. The presence she had felt then was the same one she was sensing now: ancient, immense, and alive in a way she could barely comprehend.
Asa pushed further, her mind stretching to reach the presence fully. It responded, not with rejection but with a shift, as though turning its attention to her. The Force around her seemed to intensify, vibrating with an untamed energy that sent a shiver down her spine. She felt its power—not harsh or threatening, but overwhelming in its depth and magnitude. It was vast, timeless, and infinitely more than she could grasp.
The presence opened itself slightly, allowing Asa a glimpse of its enormity. The Force swirled around her, resonating with a wild energy that felt like the hum of a storm in her bones. It wasn't just alive; it was alive in a way that dwarfed everything she had ever known.
Asa's chest rose and fell quickly, her breaths shallow as the sheer intensity of the connection threatened to engulf her. Her fingers tightened around the sphere, its familiar texture grounding her in the moment. She felt the currents of the presence brushing against her mind, vast and ancient, but its power was too much to hold onto.
The intensity of the connection was too much. Asa's chest tightened, her breaths coming faster as the overwhelming energy began to press against her and instinctively, she pulled back. The presence didn't resist her retreat; it lingered, its attention still faintly on her, as though waiting patiently.
Asa opened her eyes, her vision adjusting to the sunlight filtering through the trees. Her chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing. Varan's calm gaze was already on her, his brow furrowed slightly in thought.
"You felt it," he said, his voice steady but cautious.
Asa nodded, her voice trembling slightly. "Yeah. It was… huge. Ancient. It felt alive, but not like anything I've ever felt before. It was—" She hesitated, searching for the right words. "It was like… a storm. Massive, powerful, but calm. I don't know what it was."
Varan's jaw tightened briefly, a flicker of unease crossing his features. He nodded slowly, his voice quieter now. "I've felt it too," he admitted. "A few years ago, when I was rebuilding my connection to the Force. When I built my new lightsaber here on Batuu, I felt… something. It wasn't as open to me as it seems to be with you. It stayed distant—like it was observing me but didn't want to let me in."
Asa blinked, surprised. "You felt it here? In the Spirewood?"
Varan nodded, his gaze shifting briefly to the ruins of the Jedi Temple nearby. "Whatever it is, it's tied to this place. To the Force. But it's not something to take lightly."
His tone grew more serious as he met Asa's eyes. "Proceed with caution, Asa. This presence—whatever it is—has a power we don't fully understand. It may be connected to the Force, but it's not like anything I've encountered before. Don't rush into it. Let it come to you when you're ready."
Asa nodded slowly, her awe tempered by Varan's warning. The encounter had left her shaken but deeply curious. Whatever this presence was, it had acknowledged her, opened itself to her in a way it hadn't for Varan. The thought filled her with both wonder and uncertainty.
As they packed up to leave, Asa cast a lingering glance at the Spirewood, her mind still racing with the memory of the encounter. She didn't know what the presence was or why it had reached out to her, but she knew it was significant. For now, she would heed Varan's advice and proceed with caution, trusting that the answers would come when the time was right.
Parenting Advice
The Torrik kitchen was bathed in a warm glow, the hum of the quiet settlement outside a faint backdrop to the low voices inside. Varan sat at the table with a cooling mug of chai, his posture slightly hunched, a mixture of exhaustion and thoughtfulness written across his face. Raal leaned back in his chair, a relaxed contrast to Mira, who sat upright, her expression sharp as she listened intently. Upstairs, Asa was fast asleep in her old room, leaving the adults to speak freely.
"I feel like I'm in over my head sometimes," Varan began, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "Asa's brilliant—no question about that—but she's… overwhelming. She's constantly in motion, and I feel like I'm chasing after her rather than guiding her. It's like she doesn't focus on anything I'm trying to teach her."
Mira's expression softened slightly, but there was still an edge of steel in her gaze. "She focuses, Varan," she said firmly. "It just doesn't look like what you're expecting."
Raal nodded in agreement. "Asa's not the kind of person who'll stare at a datapad for hours and recite what she's learned. But you give her something to do? Something that makes her think or lets her use her hands? She'll learn faster than anyone else in the room."
Varan tilted his head, unconvinced. "It doesn't feel that way when I'm teaching her. Sometimes, I'll ask her a question, and she'll just… stare off into space. Or she'll say something completely unrelated. It's frustrating."
"That's her process," Mira said, leaning forward slightly. "Her mind doesn't work in a straight line, Varan. She's not zoning out; she's thinking. It might not be what you were asking, but I guarantee she's working through something important in that head of hers."
"She did that all the time when she was younger," Raal added with a grin. "Teachers hated it. Said she wasn't paying attention, but then she'd come out with an answer to a question nobody even asked. It drove them paagal (crazy)."
Mira's sharp gaze narrowed at the memory. "Her teachers didn't understand her, and they didn't care to try. Called her disruptive, said she wasn't trying. Moorkhs (fools), the lot of them. They gave up on her because she didn't fit their mold, and I wasn't about to let them crush her spirit."
Varan sighed, setting his mug down. "It's not just her focus. She forgets to eat—constantly. I've started bringing her food while she's working, but it feels like I'm enabling her."
"You're not enabling her," Mira said, her tone firm. "You're taking care of her. Asa doesn't forget to eat on purpose—she just gets so caught up in what she's doing that everything else fades away. She's always been like that."
Raal nodded, leaning forward slightly. "When she was younger, I'd put a snack next to her while she worked. Didn't say anything, didn't make a big deal out of it—just left it there. Sometimes, she wouldn't even notice it at first, but she'd eat eventually."
Mira added with a soft smile, "And when she finished, she'd grumble about not being hungry, but we knew better. It's not a flaw, Varan—it's just part of who she is. You're already doing the right thing by meeting her where she is."
Varan rubbed the back of his neck, his brow furrowed. "And then there's her room. It's like walking into a battlefield. Tools everywhere, droid parts scattered across the floor, clothes shoved into corners—it's chaos."
"It's her chaos," Raal said with a chuckle. "And she thrives in it. Sure, it looks like a disaster to us, but Asa knows where everything is. Mostly."
Varan raised an eyebrow. "Mostly?"
"Look," Mira said, her tone gentle but insistent. "Her space is an extension of her mind. It's messy, yes, but it's also creative. If you try to impose order on it, you'll stifle that creativity. Let her have her chaos, and she'll figure it out."
Raal smirked. "That said, it doesn't hurt to remind her to clear a path every once in a while. You know, so she doesn't trip over her own genius."
Varan chuckled softly despite himself. "I just don't want her to feel like I'm letting her down by not pushing for more structure."
"You're not letting her down," Mira said firmly. "You're meeting her where she is—and that's what she needs."
Varan sighed, leaning back in his chair. "And her curiosity… It's incredible, but it's also dangerous. She doesn't think before diving into something. She'll dismantle a perfectly functioning droid or climb something she shouldn't without a second thought."
"She's always been like that," Raal said with a grin. "When she was six, she climbed the roof because she wanted to see if the sky felt different up there. I had to coax her down while she just sat there, completely calm, like it was no big deal."
Varan laughed softly, remembering the incident. "I was there. I remember her saying, 'I just wanted to see if it felt different.' Completely serious."
"That's Asa," Mira said, smiling. "She has to know. You can't stop her curiosity, Varan. You can only guide it. Teach her to pause, to ask herself why she's doing something. If she can answer that, she'll start thinking before she acts."
"And if she doesn't?" Varan asked, half-smiling.
"Then you make sure she knows how to climb back down," Raal said with a chuckle.
Varan exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I just don't want to let her down. She's so different, and I don't want her to feel like she's failing because she doesn't fit into some traditional mold."
Mira reached across the table, resting her hand over his. "You're not letting her down, Varan. The fact that you're sitting here, asking these questions, shows how much you care. Asa doesn't need someone to change her—she needs someone who sees her, who lets her thrive in her own way. That's what you're doing."
Raal nodded, his voice steady. "You're part of her team now, Varan. And you're doing fine. Better than fine. Asa looks up to you—you're probably one of the only people who can keep up with her."
Varan allowed himself a small smile, the weight on his shoulders easing. "Thank you. Both of you. I needed this."
"Anytime," Mira said with warmth. "And if you ever feel like you're drowning, come back. We've seen it all—her teachers, her quirks, her wild curiosity. We'll help you figure it out."
As the conversation wound down, the sound of Asa's quiet snores drifted down from upstairs. Varan chuckled softly, feeling lighter. He wasn't navigating Asa's unique challenges alone, and with allies like Raal and Mira, he knew he'd find his way.