#not calling anyene out

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

You're The Only Girl For Me - Chapter 8

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Christmas Day 2020 (continued)

Isaac Jones stared at the man he just caught groping his baby girl, his princess. That was not what he wanted to see when he opened his front door after being alerted that there was a presence by his security system. 

Airielle cleared her throat. She was suddenly having a flashback to her junior year in highschool.  “Dad this is Joshua, Josh this is my dad Issac.” Josh held his hand out to Isaac. 

“That was the hand that was groping my daughter's ass, correct?” Josh put his hand down and cringed. This was not going well. At all. 

“My bad about that. I wasn’t expecting anybody to open the door.” Josh said scratching the back of his neck as her dad just stared him down, a deep frown on his face. 

“Are you going to let us in?” Airielle questioned, breaking her dad out of his staring. Airielle rolled her eyes as her dad moved to the side and let her and Josh walk into the house. She grabbed Josh’s hand pulling him into the house with her. 

“Hey Mia, I found our daughter outside being groped up by some boy.” Airielle rolled her eyes again and walked into the living room where her family were seated. 

“You bought Jey Uso for christmas!?” Her 10-year old nephew Zay shouted, running over towards her. “This is the best present ever! Is Roman here too?” He asked, eyes wide as he ran into the foyer to see if anyone else was out there. 

Airielle and her family laughed at how excited he was. “No i’m sorry Zay, maybe Yas can get him here next year.” She said smirking at Yasmine who flipped her off in return. 

“Non, pa gen anyen nan sa” (no, none of that) Her grandmother scolded, pointing her finger at Yasmine. “Pa dwe grosye Airielle. Entwodwi nou nan ti zanmi ou..” (don’t be rude Airielle, introduce us to your friend.) She said smiling over at Airielle and Josh. 

“Mwen regrèt granmè, se Josh, zanmi mwen nan travay.” (I’m sorry granny,this is Josh, my friend from work) She said to her grandmother before saying it again in english for everyone else, obviously leaving the friend part out, she didn’t know what she and Josh were and she didn’t want to upset him by just calling him a friend. 

She met his family and now he was meeting hers, they’ve kissed but he never asked her to be his girlfriend nor did she ask him to be her boyfriend.  Maybe he thought she already was without him asking. She cleared her throat before introducing him to everyone in the room individually so that he could know their names. 

Now her family wasn’t as big as Josh’s but there were enough of them, with her dad and stepmom, her older brother, Isaiah, his wife Kelsi and their 3 kids. Her other older brother Josiah, his wife Nickole and their three kids. Her two uncles, Yasmine and her younger cousin Ashley, her younger brother Benjamin, Yasmine’s sister Jasmine and her grandmother.

When they got to her stepmom Tamia, she stood up and pulled Joshua into a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you. I’m happy you could make it.” Josh’s smile was wide and bright. He felt kind of relieved that Airielle had told her family about him. 

“Thank you for having me.” Tamia then turned towards Airielle. 

“Go get some food before your brothers eat it all.” Tamia said laughing when all of them shouted in protest. Airielle laughed too before grabbing Josh’s hand and walking towards the kitchen. 

“Do you want a to-go plate? I know you not hungry seeing as we just ate at your moms house. ” She asked and when she turned to Josh, he was already staring at her.“What?” 

“You speak a different language?” Airielle laughed

“Oh yeah.” She giggled. “It's Haitian, my grandma doesn’t speak english, so that’s how we communicate with her.”  

“Damn, that’s hot.” She rolled her eyes and pushed him away from her. 

“Boy if you don’t stop.” She rolled her eyes as she started to make him a plate. 

“I’m just saying. That shit is hot. What other secrets you got?” She smirked over at him. 

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.” She winked.

Spending time with Airielle’s family was going… okay. Her family was just like his to be honest, everyone was close and it was obvious that this was a family that saw each other everyday and not just on the holidays. Everyone had been extremely nice to Josh except Isaac, but that was completely understandable. But it was like no matter what he said her dad found a problem with it. Josh could tell that Airielle was getting annoyed and to be honest so was he, he didn’t do anything wrong…technically. 

They were all sitting in the living room, letting the kids open presents. Airielle had taught Josh some Haitian words so that he could communicate with her grandmother. Josh had also tried his hardest to engage Isaac in conversation but he would be met with silence. 

“Don’t worry about him.” Tamia whispered to Josh. “Rih is his baby girl. He’s like that with every guy she brings home.” That caused Josh’s eyes to widen in shock. How many dudes does she bring home? 

Seeing the look on his face Tamia quickly backtracks. “No, what I meant to say is that he’s protective of her.” 

“ I get it. But i’m trying.” Tamia smiled and placed a comforting hand on his knee. 

“Don’t worry, I'll talk to him.”

“Hey man, you know how to play spades?” Airielles older brother Josiah asked and Josh nodded. “Cool, come on, you  my partner.” Josh chuckled and gave Airielle a kiss on the cheek before getting up and followed Josiah over to the table where Airielle’s other brother Isaiah and Yasmine were already waiting. 

They played for a while, Josh getting to know Airielle’s brothers and some embarrassing stories about her that he would keep as ammunition for the stories his mom told her. 

“Hey man, don’t worry about my dad. He was never going to like you.” Josiah said after they had just finished playing. Josh arched an eyebrow at Josiah. “I mean how everything went down with Christopher, I'm surprised he even let you in the house.”  At the mention of Christopher’s name Yasmine’s head snapped over to the two of them. She shook her head trying to tell Josiah to stop talking. 

“Josiah, stop.” Yasmine said, kicking him under the table. 

“What?” He then turned to Josh “You don’t know?” 

“Know what?” Josh asked, confused. 

“Jo-” He cut her off by loudly talking over her. He heard  Yasmine mutter ‘fuck’ before quickly getting up  from the table to walk over to Airielle to tell her what her brother was doing. 

“She was engaged to this dickhead. I never like the nigga. ” Joshiah took a sip of his beer before continuing. “I always told Rih, it was something off about him, but she didn’t listen.” He sighed and shrugged before continuing. “One day he beat the shit outta my sister. Had her in a hospital for damn near 2 months. She had to get a nose job from how bad he hit her in the face.” Josh felt his heart drop to his stomach. He let his gaze wander over to where Airielle was talking and laughing with her step-mom and one of her sister-in-laws. He would never dream of hurting her, physically or emotionally. 

He watched as Yasmine walked over to her and whispered something in her ear that wiped the smile completely off her face. 

Airielle stared at Yasmine in shock. She looked over at Josh who was already looking at her and felt her eyes water. She never wanted anybody outside of her family to know about Christopher or what he did to her. 

“I tried to stop him, but he’s drunk. You know how Jojo is.” Yasmine explained, giving Airielle a sympathetic look. 

“Fuck” Airielle muttured before stabding up and walking towards Josh and Josiah.  “Imma steal him for a minute okay.” She said to Josiah who shrugged in response. Airielle sighed and pulled Josh away from everyone and towards the sunroom, locking the door behind her.  “Look I don’t-” 

“If you don’t want me to know. I’ll forget everything that Josiah said.” Josh said cutting her off. 

“What?” She asked, staring at him in shock. 

“By the look on your face. I can tell it’s something that you don’t want me to know about. If you wanna tell me i’ll listen but if you don’t want me to know i'll forget everything he said and I’ll never bring it up.” Airielle could do nothing but stare at Josh 

“What?” She asked again, making him smile. 

“How did you expect me to react?” Airielle shrugged and wrapped her arms around herself. 

“I honestly don’t know. Nobody outside my family knows what happened, and I honestly wanted to keep it that way.” 

“Okay, then we’ll keep it that way. I won’t say anything or bring it up again.” He said pulling her into her arms and kissing the side of her head. 

Issac watched them hug with a curious look on his face. “Hey, wassup with them?” He asked Isaiah who was walking past. 

“Oh, Jojo opened his big ass mouth. Told Josh about Christopher. Kelsi heard them from the backyard and honestly, dad. He’s a good dude. You gotta give him a chance.” Isaiah patted his dad on the back before leaving him to his own thoughts. 

[thechildisgone]

doja cat is hot but say so and a lot of her other songs are produced by dr luke under a pseudonym :/ so 

[calebdumes]

gather ye rosebuds - chapter one

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

word count: 8.2k

rating: T

summary: The galaxy was an unforgiving place. Kanan had found the best way to survive was to keep moving, keep your head down, and only care about yourself. After all, history had proved that giving a damn never led to anything good.

author’s note: hello and welcome to my little rebels au! I’ve been working on this monster for about a year and a half now and it’s finally ready to get posted. It’s not yet complete but it’s far enough along that I feel comfortable putting it out into the world. Updates will be every other Sunday around 10 am est.

special shout out to my amazing beta and friend @eleni-syndulla​​ i could not do this without her help and encouragement!

any and all likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated and don’t forget to...

Read on AO3

|| CHAPTER ONE || CHAPTER TWO || CHAPTER THREE || CHAPTER FOUR || CHAPTER FIVE || CHAPTER SIX || CHAPTER SEVEN || CHAPTER EIGHT || CHAPTER NINE ||  CHAPTER TEN || CHAPTER 11 || EPILOGUE

happy reading!

~

Kanan Jarrus lived his life by two simple rules: travel light, and don’t get attached.

The galaxy was an unforgiving place. He had found the best way to survive was to keep moving, keep your head down, and only care about yourself. After all, history had proved that giving a damn never led to anything good.

So he followed his rules, and he stayed alive.

And he didn’t, under any circumstance, use the Force.

It was always there – calling to him, buzzing under his skin, singing to him with the sweetest of songs – but he ignored it. He pushed it down, locked it away, and did everything he could think of to cut himself off completely from its warmth. In this unforgiving galaxy, the Force was a death sentence and Kanan had worked too hard and overcome too much to die for an old religion.

Kanan leaned back in the pilot’s chair and studied the contents of his latest bounty puck. The flickering blue image of a male Rodian slowly rotated in the air before him: Suvo Anyen, former BlasTech employee and suspected corporate spy.

Anyen's former employers were willing to pay a hefty sum for his retrieval and there was an even higher payout for the recovery of the information he was accused of stealing. All things considered, it wasn’t a difficult job - Kanan could pull it off in his sleep - but his bounty seemed to be set on making it the easiest job in the history of the galaxy.

It was clear that Suvo Anyen was no professional spy. He either hadn’t bothered or simply didn’t think to cover his tracks, so after a causal search through the local HoloNet, Kanan had found the buyer, the location, and the time of Anyen’s hand-off.

In Kanan's opinion, this took all the fun out of things. What good was a hunt if his target was literally sitting there waiting for him? Kanan needed a challenge, something to satisfy that itch in his mind that begged for action. He needed something that would test him and push him to his limits. Kanan needed to feel his heart race and his muscles strain. He needed excitement - everything that this bounty was lacking. But a job was a job, and he was running low on drinking money.

Based on what Kanan had been able to discover, Anyen was set to arrive on Garel shortly before the handoff and leave immediately after. It was a smart move for someone as inexperienced as Anyen; it didn’t draw too much attention and made the window for any outside interference very small. But it would have worked more to Anyen’s advantage if he had done a better job of covering his tracks.

Now it was just a nuisance for Kanan to get around. Small window or not, Kanan could do this job with his eyes closed. All he had to do was move fast and that was one thing Kanan definitely knew how to do.

The proximity alarm flashed on the console, interrupting Kanan’s internal grumbling. He grabbed the steering yoke as he prepared for the Escape to enter real space, rolling his shoulders and hearing the bones in his back pop with satisfaction. In a stretch of white the stars blinked back into existence, the rocky, purple-tinged sphere of Garel filling the viewport. With practiced ease, he slipped into the designated traffic lanes and flipped on his transponder ID. Moments later the ship's communication unit beeped with an incoming transmission.

“Attention approaching craft, this is Garel Spaceport Authority,” a droning voice crackled over the speaker. “Transmit landing permit for inspection and designated docking fee.”

“This is Escape.” Kanan replied. “Transmitting landing permit and credits now.” He flipped another switch and sat back, watching the planet grow closer and closer. From this distance, the lights of Garel City glittered brightly through the swirling mass of clouds in concentric circles. It was reminiscent of the massive cities that made up the surface of Coruscant, though not nearly as sprawling or opulent. The comparison was still enough to cause his hands to tighten reflexively on the yoke.

“Landing permit approved, Escape,” the spaceport agent replied moments later. “Transmitting approach vector and docking information. Enjoy your visit to Garel.”

Kanan ended the transmission without responding, deftly maneuvering his ship to the approach vector and feeling it shudder as it entered the planet’s atmosphere. Garel City unfolded below him, a massive network of domed buildings that were dwarfed by towering rock formations that dotted the horizon. It was well into the planet’s night cycle, the sky a deep indigo, the stars washed out by the glow of the city. Kanan initiated the landing cycle as the spaceport came into view, slowly lowering the Escape into the landing bay as clouds of exhaust rose up around him.

There was a jolt as the ship finally settled and Kanan powered down the engines, his eyes scanning the area visible outside the viewport. The landing bay was empty save for a few piles of crates and a mouse droid that was busy running itself in circles, yet the back of his neck prickled with unease.

Pull it together, Jarrus, he thought to himself, giving his head a shake. You've got a job to do. Glancing at the now-darkened dashboard one last time, Kanan stood and jumped down the ladder into the small cargo hold of his ship.

If he had timed everything right, he’d be on his way back to Takodana within an hour and with a sizable sum of credits in his account, but first, he needed to track down his prey. Removing his blaster from its holster, he checked its charge then hit the loading ramp controls. Kanan began walking as it was still unfolding, the slight feeling of unease still crawling up his spine. The second his boots hit the cracked duracrete floor of the landing bay a tidal wave of energy hit him and he staggered backward in shock.

Kanan caught himself before he could fall onto the hard metal of the loading ramp, swallowing thickly. The world around him spun brighter and louder as the Force enveloped him. He shook his head, blinking away the wash of colors that burned his eyes as his senses adjusted to the sudden bombardment of the Force. He breathed harshly through his nose, sweat dotting his forehead. Wildly, his eyes flew around the empty landing bay, finding it just as it was moments before. There was a thrumming under his skin that caused his muscles to tighten with alertness.

He didn’t know why, but needed to move, and fast.

Kanan tried to take deep breaths, walling up his mental shields until the Force flowed around him like a rock in a river. He could still feel its turbulence buffeting his mind in ragged waves, but the physical sensation was nothing more than a sharp prickle against his skin.

The unease he had felt moments ago now sat heavy in his gut, twisting up his insides with anticipation. The last time he had felt the Force react so strongly had been years ago. It was a  violent feeling, and it made his back teeth clench uncomfortably at its implications.

It wanted something from him.

No. Kanan thought sternly. He wasn’t that person anymore. The Force wasn’t his friend; he didn’t have to listen to it if he didn’t want to. So he took one more measured breath to regulate his heartbeat and slipped his blaster back into his holster.

Whatever the Force wanted – it could go blow it out of its exhaust pipe. He had a job to do.

It didn’t take Kanan long to splice into the spaceport’s computer systems to find where Anyen’s transport was docked. His brow furrowed as he read the flight log. It said Anyen had arrived in Landing Bay 27 nearly thirty minutes before it was scheduled to. Unless he messed up his calculations, he should have arrived on Garel just moments after Anyen. That, or something must have happened to cause his target to speed up his timetable. Regardless of the reason, he was now running behind and still had a good ten minute walk ahead of him.

Something wasn’t right here. Kanan had a sinking suspicion that it wasn’t going to end well for him.

The corridors of Garel’s spaceport were more or less like every other spaceport he had been to. Dingy advertisements clung to the durasteel walls, some covered over with garish Imperial propaganda posters that stood out in the dim lighting. Kanan moved with purpose, side-stepping the few travelers returning to their ships from a long night out in the city and past the long-forgotten stacks of cargo that lined the walkways. More than once he took shelter behind the towering crates, dodging the smattering of stormtrooper patrols that lazily prowled the deserted concourse. All the while he could still feel the discontent of the Force, buzzing in the back of his head like a swarm of bitz bugs.

Trying to ignore the Force was like trying to hold his breath while underwater. He could do it for a few seconds, minutes at most, but sooner or later he’d have to breach the surface, unable to deny the biological need for air. Kanan had managed to hold his breath for a long time now, but the need to breathe was clawing at his lungs.

Because no matter how many times he tried to deny it, Kanan Jarrus was and would always be a Jedi.

It was a part of him that was impossible to separate. It was etched into his bones and written along the lines of his very soul. He was one with the Force and the Force was with him. No matter how far he pushed it away or tried to forget its presence it could never truly leave him. He was the Force made flesh.

And right now, the Force was making itself known after years of being pointedly ignored. It rolled in thick waves, adding to the unease that had begun to build when he landed, but Kanan pushed forward. He stalked through the spaceport, doing his best to push away the sharp urgency that pricked at his skin. Despite his efforts, there was a sense of foreboding growing as he approached his destination, the metallic tang of it leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

He could see the entrance to Bay 27 up ahead so he slowed his pace to something more cautious. He did a quick sweep of the area, looking for anything that might pose a threat, but at this time the concourse was empty. Of course, that didn’t mean a squadron of troopers wasn’t right around the corner or an assassin wasn’t lurking in the shadows.

Kanan waited, counting down the seconds with each measured breath. But the concourse remained deserted, with nothing around except for the buzz of the Force.

Whatever you’re trying to tell me, Kanan thought, keeping his eyes sharp as he slowly approached the landing bay’s doors, I don’t want anything to do with it.

The Force responded with its usual grace.

An explosion ripped through the spaceport, the blast doors blowing outwards into the corridor. He was sent careening through the air to land in a crumpled heap, his head cracking sharply against the ground.

Kanan blinked his eyes open and immediately shut them, groaning in pain as the world around him spun in a dizzying haze. His muddled mind tried to comprehend what was happening, the sour scent of hot metal making bile burn his throat. He cracked his eyes open again to the oppressive heat that seeped out from the damaged landing bay. Flames were licking the twisted doors, casting the dim hallway into a hellish light. Distantly, he could hear a siren wailing over the loud ringing in his ears. He felt a wetness drip down the side of his face.

Not good.

Pushing himself up on shaking legs, Kanan pulled the collar of his shirt up over his nose to try to block out the haze of toxic smoke belching from the scarred opening of Bay 27. He squinted against the heat and nearly missed the shadowy figure emerging from the miasma. The figure looked around the destroyed concourse, taking in the carnage, before slipping into the dark cloud of smoke and out of sight.

Kanan cursed under his breath, wanting to chase after the schutta that ruined his job, but any second now the spaceport would be swarming with local Imperial security. If he wanted to leave this rock a free man, he needed to be long gone before that happened.

But then the Force screamed.

And Kanan had no choice but to listen.

He jumped over piles of burning metal and searing heat, into the ruptured landing bay. Flaming fragments of Anyen’s transport shuttle were scattered around the scorched space like macabre confetti. He could feel Anyen’s death like a dark stain all around him.  

That wasn’t all he felt. There was a tiny pinprick of life flickering in his mind, drawing him further into the destroyed space. He moved on instinct as he leapt over the burning residue of the transport shuttle to a small cluster of crates that had been blown astray from the blast. In the center of the rubble was a heavy fuel canister that pinned a young woman in brightly painted Mandalorian armor to the cracked duracrete.

She wasn’t moving, but he could see the faint rise and fall of her plated chest. Kanan was more concerned about the stream of fuel rapidly dripping from a crack in the canister, forming a large pool and inching towards the flames.  

As carefully as he could, he lifted the edge of the damaged canister and pulled the Mandalorian free before throwing her over his shoulder. He took off at a run, leaping from the ground and landing on the top of the hanger bay with an ease that was far outside the normal limits of his species. The cold air whipped across his skin and dried the blood on his face as thick plumes of smoke rose up behind him, providing the distractions he needed to make his way back to the Escape.

The gaps between the landing bays were wide and the extra weight made clearing them harder, but Kanan managed, holding the injured Mandalorian tightly in his grasp.

Kanan realized the danger he was putting himself in by so blatantly using the Force. It was incredibly dangerous and beyond stupid, but the power that surged through his body was as natural as breathing, coming to his aid without him even having to think about it. It was also making him feel more alive than he had in years, a fact he didn’t let himself linger on.

As he jumped down into the Escape’s landing bay, the spaceport rocked with a secondary explosion, the ground shaking with the force of it. Sirens wailed and, even locked away behind the closed doors of his landing bay, he could hear the clatter of stormtrooper boots echoing in the corridors.

Kanan adjusted the body on his shoulder and dashed up the ramp into the safety of his ship.

He set the Mandalorian girl down on the bottom crew bunk before climbing the ladder up to the cockpit. Kanan tuned out the squabble coming through the comm unit, demanding all aircraft return to their landing bays and sent the Escape soaring through the atmosphere, heading for space. After blindly typing in the hyperspace coordinates he punched the lever, leaving Garel behind in a flash of light.

Only then, in the safety of hyperspace, did he let himself relax.

The adrenaline fled from his system, leaving him feeling worn out and empty. The Force hummed around him like a well-fed tooka. Well, at least someone’s happy, he grumbled to himself. Not only had he not completed his job, but some moof-milker had stolen his score, blown up the landing bay and left an injured Mandalorian behind for him to take care of.

Kanan had had enough of the Force for the next decade, thank you very much.

His thoughts drifted back to his passenger below, and Kanan pushed himself up from his chair to slide down the ladder into the hold.

The Escape was not a large ship by any means, but it served him well. The light freighter was built with speed in mind and not the luxuries of comfort or privacy. The meager cargo hold acted as both the galley and crew quarters, with a set of bunks sitting opposite a small table bolted to the floor, a small refresher tucked away next to the bunks and several built-in storage holds above the table. It wasn’t much, but for his crew of one it was all he needed.

Kanan fumbled around in one of the overhead storage units looking for a med pack. His fingers eventually found it and he began scouring through the meager supplies until he found the bacta patches. Turning to face the injured Mandalorian, Kanan assessed her injuries.

Several spots along the softer parts of the Mandalorian’s armor had been torn open, exposing a smattering of burns and cuts. Thankfully they didn’t look too serious; nothing a couple of hours with a bacta patch couldn’t heal. So he carefully placed the patches on the girl’s legs and arms before gingerly removing her helmet, with the intent to check for a head wound.

When it came free, he swore loudly.

She was just a kid. She couldn’t be a day over fifteen if he had to guess, with deep purple hair that faded into burnt umber. Kanan ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a few strands from his ponytail. She was just a kid.

He fell down onto the backs of his heels and pinched the bridge of his nose.

What in the hell was he supposed to do with a kid? A heavily armed, Mandalorian kid?  

Chances were she was working with whoever it was that stole his bounty. Well, she was - before she was apparently double-crossed.

He huffed out a breath of frustration and shook his head. There was nothing he could do about it now. Garel was too far behind to turn around. He just prayed that she wouldn't wake up before they got to Takodana.

Out of an abundance of caution, he removed the twin blasters from the girl's thigh holsters and carried them up the ladder to the cockpit. An unarmed Mandalorian was still a threat, even one so young, but it was a threat he could handle. He left the hatch to the hold open so he could keep an eye on his unconscious guest and plopped down ungracefully in the pilot’s chair.

This was not how he wanted the day to go. All he wanted to do now was down a bottle of whatever alcohol he could find and pass the kriff out.

Kanan tossed the blasters onto the co-pilot seat and reached for his datapad, pulling up Garel’s HoloNet and dabbing gently at the dried trickle of blood that was causing the skin on his side of his face to itch. It looked like he was one of the lucky ones to get out before the planet-wide grounding went into effect, but overall news on the incident was thin. There was no word yet on suspects, or reports of a man jumping from landing bay to landing bay with an unconscious Mandalorian slung over his back.

Garel was known for being a hotbed of criminal activity even with its Imperial presence; it wasn’t all that likely that the investigation would be in-depth. Still, Kanan liked to err on the side of caution, so he set up an alert to notify him of any new developments. With that done, he sent a quick message to the Guild Master on Takodana about the botched job and put in a request for a new one.

Throwing the pad away, he kicked his feet up on the dash and closed his eyes. He knew better than to fall asleep with a threat unconscious in his hold and no astromech to take the helm, but the urge was there. Just like the Force that was still flowing around him in lulling waves.

Kanan rubbed at his eyes and sighed. It was going to be difficult to reconstruct his shields to keep the Force out now that he had let it in. But if he wanted to keep breathing, he would manage it. That and a lot of alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, he might have something down in the hold…

But before he could entertain that thought any further, he heard the Mandalorian begin to rouse. His feet dropped back down to the floor as pulled his blaster into his lap. He spun his chair around to look down at the hatch just as the girl's eyes snapped open.

She sat up with a gasp, her hands automatically reaching for her missing blasters. When she didn’t find them she kicked her feet off of the bunk and tried to stand, only to collapse back down with a stifled moan.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kanan said. The girl’s attention flicked up to him, fire burning in her amber eyes.

“Who are you? Where am I?” she demanded, watching him closely.

“I’m the guy who saved you from exploding,” he replied. “You’re welcome.”

“Where’s Ketsu?”

Kanan scratched at the beard on his chin. “Cashing in on my bounty, I'd assume.” He paused to let the reality of his statement sink in but where he expected to see shock or anger, the young girl’s expression was unsurprised.

She lifted her chin and asked, “So she’s gone?”

“Blew the shuttle and ran off with my score.” he scuffed his foot lightly on the floor. “Hope she wasn’t a good friend of yours.”

“Where are my blasters?” the girl asked instead of answering. She crossed her arms and looked up at Kanan with a blank face but the pain in her eyes was unmistakable. It was a haunting expression that didn’t look right on someone so young. Whoever this Ketsu was, she meant something to the girl, and her betrayal had cut deep, leaving a scar that would take centuries to heal. Kanan knew a bit about how that felt.

“They’re safe, don't worry,” he assured her, his finger tapping lightly on the side of his own blaster.

The Mandalorian caught the movement and her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’d like them back, and I’d like to get off your ship if you don’t mind.”

Kanan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Not a good idea, kid. I don’t think you’d survive long in hyperspace.”

“You kidnapped me?” she hissed, her hands clenching around the thin sheet of the bunk.

“From a certain point of view,” he said humorlessly. “Besides, I’m pretty sure those bucket heads on Garel are tearing the city apart looking for you and your partner right about now.”

“I can handle a few Imps,” she sneered and from the venom in her stare, Kanan had no doubt about that. If looks could kill, he was certain he’d be dead right now.

“Oh I’m sure you can, but not in your current condition.” he pointed to the batca patches on her legs. “You’re lucky I got there when I did or you and your armor would be a different kind of art.”

“Let me guess, you’re expecting some kind of thank you?” her lips curled in disgust. She ran her fingers over the frayed edges of fabric on her legs, where the thick padding was ripped open in the explosion. “Got a thing for young girls or something?”

Kanan’s face blanched as he spat out, “No. Kriffing hell, kid, who do you think I am?”

“Oh I don’t know, maybe someone who kidnaps kids!”

“Listen,” Kanan sighed, “by the time I got to Anyen’s shuttle it was blown to bits, and you were seconds away from joining it. All I was trying to do was to get you out of there and get off Garel.” He grabbed her blasters from the co pilot’s chair and dropped down the ladder, holding her weapons out to her. “That’s all.”

She watched him cautiously before taking her blasters from his outstretched hand. He didn’t have much experience with Mandalorians, even during his short stint as a Jedi padawan, but he knew their history. There was no doubt in his mind that she could handle herself perfectly fine, even in her injured state, but the Force… Stars help him, the Force was pushing him at her. There had to be a reason for that.

At least he hoped there was. Otherwise he didn’t want to know why the Force felt the need to get involved.

“I’m Sabine,” she finally offered, slipping her weapons away and leaning back against the wall. “By the way.”

“Kanan,” he responded. “You hungry?”

She shook her head, her expression hidden in the shadow of the bunk. Kanan reached up into a storage hold and pulled out a ration bar. His hand hovered near the bottle of Corellian whiskey, but he thought better of it. Maybe later, after his new guest was well on her way – far away from him. Instead, he peeled back the wrapper before biting a chunk out of it, chewing it slowly.

“So,” Sabine started, her fingers drumming on her elbow pads. “How bad was it?”

“I’ve seen worse.” Kanan shrugged. “You’re lucky to be breathing, kid.”

“Because of you, right?” She rolled her eyes.

Kanan fought back the urge to bang his head against the wall. Teenagers. Instead he took a seat at the small galley table. “No – well, yes – but I’m talking about before I even got there. It’s a near miracle you survived the first explosion.”

Sabine frowned at that. “The charges weren’t that strong – it should have only disabled the transport. No-one was supposed to get hurt.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Anyen.” Kanan crumpled up the wrapper and threw it to the floor.

The Mandalorian flinched a little at that. He was starting to think that Anyen was her first kill. Even if it was unintentional.  A long time ago he would have gone over to her and offered her some comfort – taking a life was never an easy thing to do, or get over. But that part of him was long gone. No-one had been there to comfort him when he lost his soul, so Sabine would just have to learn how to deal with it on her own.

They sat in silence for a while, Kanan busy formulating a plan for when they got to Takodana. Of all the places he could drop the Mando, this planet was by far the safest. She could easily hitch a ride with someone at Maz’s castle – hell, she might even run into one of her own kind there. He’d dump her off and then head back to his little flat in the nearby settlement. From there he could drink himself into oblivion and forget all about this catastrophe of a day.

Sabine broke the silence first, her voice soft against the hum of the hyperdrive. “Are you with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild?”

“I am.” He nodded then paused, thinking. The young Madalorian’s armor was painted in a wash of purple and pink hues that had no discernible pattern to it. There was some sort of avian design on her helmet but his eyes lingered on the subtle spiked sun painted on her shoulder pauldron. “You’re not though, are you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “We were hired by the Black Sun. This job was supposed to be our initiation.”

“I’d say you dodged a bullet, kid,” Kanan said. He had a few scars of his own from tangling with the Black Sun. This kid must have some guts to want to be a part of that, or something to prove. The longer he sat with her, the more he was betting on the latter. “The Black Sun’s not a syndicate you want to get mixed up with. I’m sure your partner is figuring that out right about now.”

Sabine’s eyes widened. “Why would you say that?”

“The trick you pulled with the explosions? It might get the job done, but it tends to bring unwanted attention – Imperial attention. Not the kind of heat the Black Sun wants.”

“Are they going to kill her?” Sabine asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Kanan shrugged. “Probably not, but she’s going to have to pay one way or another.”

That didn’t seem to mollify the young Mandalorian. She sank back further in the bunk, letting the shadows consume her. “Where are we going?”

“Takodana. There’s a place you can go to find passage off-world, or find a job.”

“So you’re just gonna dump me?”

“I’m not looking for a partner.” Kanan said, getting to his feet. He wasn’t too interested in dragging a kid into dangerous situations either. He’d been part of that before and it hadn't ended well for anyone. He could tell that Sabine was strong-willed; she’d be fine on her own.

“We’ll be there in a day or so. ‘Fresher is on your left, ration bars up there.” He pointed to the overhead storage holds. “You should probably get some sleep.”

Sabine might have grumbled something under her breath but Kanan was already halfway up the ladder.  He let the hatch close and fell back into the pilot’s chair with a groan. This whole day was just a big kriffing mess that he would very much like to forget.

The rest of the trip passed in relative quiet. He gave Sabine his datapad at one point to keep her entertained, although she seemed quite fond of cleaning her blasters every time Kanan dropped down to the cargo hold. She watched him with guarded eyes but said nothing. That was fine by him; it wasn't like he had anything to say either.

By the time the Escape entered the Takodana system, Kanan’s back was stiff from sitting in his seat and he was desperately craving a drink. Sabine had crawled her way up to the cockpit, taking up residence in his co-pilot’s chair.

The Escape dropped out of hyperspace with a jolt, the green and blue marbled sphere of the planet growing in the viewport. There was no port authority to report to on a backwater planet like Takodana, hidden away in the Western Reaches, making it a perfect haven for all types of criminal as well as those who wanted nothing to do with the Empire.

Kanan had landed here shortly after his brief stint as an explosives hauler on the mudball known as Gorse. After that debacle Kanan swore to never take a job that required much interaction with other people, which naturally led to bounty hunting. It gave him the challenge that he needed (most of the time) and it almost guaranteed he wouldn’t run into any more beautiful revolutionaries. But most importantly, the only people who tended to get hurt were the people who deserved it.

Sabine leaned forward as he brought the Escape into the atmosphere. Her breath caught as the thin clouds gave way to lush green forests pockmarked with glistening lakes. As far as beautiful planets went, Takodana was a gem yet to be touched by the poisonous fingers of the Empire.

He landed in a grassy patch not far from the looming shadow of Maz’s castle. Even from this distance he could feel the remnants of dead Jedi long forgotten, resting in the catacombs far below the surface. It pulled at his already over-sensitized nerves, making his head ache. Kanan hit a switch on the dash to lower the loading hatch but kept the engines running.

“You can find passage off-world over at Maz’s place. She’ll treat you right.” He pulled a handful of credits out of his pocket and handed them over. “This should cover the room and board for at least a week.”

Sabine accepted the credits, slipping on her orange and maroon helmet. “Where are you going to go?” she asked, her voice distorted.

“Home.”

“Well, thanks for saving me I guess. And not, you know...” She shrugged. “Killing me or anything.”

“Next time you think about taking on a partner, don’t. And I’d get rid of that as soon as possible.” He flicked the Black Sun emblem on her shoulder.

The young Mandalorian cocked her head slightly in acknowledgement before slipping down into the hold. Kanan waited until he could see her walking along the worn path to the cantina before lifting off. It was a short flight over Nymeve Lake to the small settlement on the other side, and an ever shorter walk from the landing field to his shabby little flat.

Just like his ship, his home wasn’t much, and it constantly smelled like burnt circuits. But it had a caf dispenser and a bed – not that he used it much – so he couldn’t complain. It sat over a salvage shop owned by an elderly Volpai woman with dusty orange skin and lavender swirls on her four arms. She owned the building and the landing field out back, and every once in a while would ask Kanan to run her shop when she traveled to Andui to visit her sister.

The similarities between her and Okadiah weren’t lost on him, but this time around Kanan was keeping things strictly professional. He paid her for his flat and the landing field, and she let him snoop through her unwanted junk and gave him a handful of credits when he was around to watch the shop. It helped that her Basic was rusty and he was off-world more often than not. He wasn’t even sure what her name was, and he planned to keep it that way.

It was funny – in his desire to leave all things Jedi behind, the no attachment rule was the one teaching that he had held onto.  

He didn’t bother with the lights when the door snapped closed behind him. He just dropped his armor to the floor and reached for the first bottle he could find. The liquid burned as it slipped down his dry throat but he hardly noticed. Kanan downed the drink and reached for a second, finishing it before he made it over to the acceleration couch he'd recovered from his landlady’s garbage.

He stretched out on the cushions, feeling the alcohol seep into his system. His limbs grew heavy as his eyes slipped closed. Slowly, the tension that had built up in his muscles began to relax and his breathing deepened. A pleasant numbness worked its way down his body as the effects of the alcohol reached its peak. Kanan rolled onto his side and promptly fell asleep.

*

Caleb was standing on a rocky outcropping, the evening air thick with humidity and campfire smoke. In front of him was a sea of stars, glittering in the inky blackness like thousands of tiny crystals. His master stood beside him, stoic and wise. He felt, for perhaps the first time in his life, at peace.

But her words cut through his contentment like a knife.

“You must not grow too attached, too fond, too in love with life as it is now,” she said, her gaze set on the stars ahead. “Those emotions are valuable and should not be suppressed, but you must learn to rule them, Padawan, lest they rule you.”

The stars in front of him shifted, the blackness of night bleeding into a frosty blue of an early morning sunrise, the air around him cold and biting. Instead of the rocky hills and tall Kallernut trees he saw nothing but grassy plains stretching as far as the eye could see, and at the center of his vision, a collection of rocks, conical in shape and swirled with delicate hues of purple and brown.

It was not his master beside him with her quiet strength but a young boy, dark-haired and with electric blue eyes, wild with untrained Force ability. Those piercing eyes looked up at him with unbridled expectation that set Caleb’s nerves on edge. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t think he would ever be ready for this.

There was a flash of green out of the corner of his eye; a gruff laugh followed by a chattering of binary; the sharp smell of paint. He felt the warm hum of a Kyber crystal against his cold palm.

“You okay, Master?” the boy asked, some of that wild excitement dimming in his eyes.

Caleb looked back out to the rocky formation nearly hidden by the frosty air. He felt the presence of his own master wrap painfully around his heart.

“Remember, Caleb, the universe is far from static. And as it changes, a Jedi’s role in it must evolve.”

Kanan woke with a start, the bottle hanging limply in his hand crashing to the floor and exploding into a mess of shards. His breath was coming in short, ragged gasps as he tried to remember where he was. His body shook with a frosty chill, the smell of a campfire still fresh in his nose. He pushed himself up until he was sitting, his boots grinding the broken glass on the floor into dust.

He was on Takodana. Not on Kaller. He was alone. It was just a dream. It was just a dream.

Kanan groaned. He should have seen this coming. He had let the Force grab onto him back on Garel, so of course it would find a way into his dreams before he was able to build up his defenses to keep it out. No amount of alcohol-fueled sleep would keep it away after that.

He ran a hand down his face, scratching idly at his beard. His master’s words held a warning. They did when she first said them, and they did now. This time, he hoped they weren’t preceding his world falling down around him.

A Jedi’s role must evolve. Kanan huffed sarcastically. No, he thought, a Jedi’s role was to die.

He was just about to stand, already thinking about taking a long shower to wash the scent of space and alcohol off of him when there was a sharp rap on his door. Kanan paused. The only time someone willingly sought him out was his landlady collecting rent and he was pretty sure he had paid that already.

Hesitantly he made his way to the door, skirting the empty bottles and old clothes that littered the floor. He reached down to where he discarded his armor last night and grabbed his blaster. Holding it loosely in his hand, he hit the control by the door.

It slid open to reveal a Mandalorian girl in brightly painted armor.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sabine said, pulling her helmet off and resting it on her hip.

Kanan blinked in confusion. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I was finding a job, but I guess not.” She scrunched her nose in faint disgust. “What is that smell?”

Kanan sniffed at his shirt. Yeah, he really needed to shower. But after he sent Sabine on her way. “Who said I had a job for you?”

“Maz.” Sabine pushed past him, inviting herself into his flat. Her sharp eyes took in the mess of empty bottles littered around the space.

Kanan closed his eyes and bit his tongue in frustration. Maz, of course. That meddling old pirate never did know how to keep her nose out of other people’s business. “Listen kid, I don’t know what she said to you but I told you before, I’m not looking for a partner. And I don’t have a job.”

As if the universe was actively working against him - which, honestly, wasn’t it? -  the datapad resting on his shabby table dinged with an incoming message. Sabine reached for the pad before he could make a grab for it.

“Well, this says you do,” she said, reading through the message. “Definitely a two-person job, too.”

Kanan sighed. “Kid…”

“My name is Sabine,” she snapped.

Kanan held up his hands in surrender, remembering how much he hated Grey and Kasmir calling him kid. “Sorry, Sabine.” He took the datapad from her. “I’m not someone you want to work with, okay?”

“I think I’m old enough to make that decision for myself.”

“Well I don’t think you have a very good track record.” Kanan shot back. He looked pointedly down at the gashes still evident on her legs.

Sabine frowned. “Okay, well, I saw the job already. There’s no way one person can pull that off by themselves. You need me.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“I’m not leaving unless you take me with you.” From the set of her shoulders, he could tell she wasn’t joking. She had planted her feet firmly on the floor, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.  

Kanan was too tired and too sober to deal with this. He read through the job details and sighed. He could handle the job on his own; there was no question about that. But he still felt worn thin from his tangle with the Force. Having an extra pair of hands wouldn’t hurt.

As if awoken by the thought, the Force began to hum pleasantly around him. He closed his eyes in defeat. “Fine. But just this job. After that, you and I don’t see each other again, got it?”

Sabine smirked in response. “I sure hope you plan on showering before we go.”

Kanan was going to regret this.

*

TWO YEARS LATER

Sabine was working on her blasters when the door to the flat slid open and a battered-looking Kanan stumbled in. There was a nasty gash on his forehead and the beginnings of a black eye forming on the right side of his face. The smell of alcohol was thick in the air. She rolled her eyes and went back to work.

“It’s not even noon yet, Kanan,” she said.

“I’m not drunk,” he protested, falling limply onto the acceleration couch that acted as his bed.

“Sure. And I’m the Emperor’s daughter.”

Kanan grimaced. “That’s an unpleasant thought.”

“Tell me about it,” she agreed. She gave him a cursory once-over. He was beat up and smelled like a cantina threw up on him, but he really didn’t seem drunk, just tired.

He always seemed tired these days.

In the two years Sabine had spent living with him, she had learned a lot about Kanan Jarrus. He was quick-witted, with a sharp mind that was able to take apart any situation with tactical ease and formulate a plan. He moved with unmatched agility that spoke to more than just good training. It was uncanny at times how he would move out of the way of a blaster bolt before it had even reached him, or how he seemed to pull off maneuvers that not even the most skilled Mandalorian fighters could. He was a little bit spooky – almost supernatural. There was a certain mysticism about him, an enigma that she longed to crack, but every time she thought she had a handle on him, he would prove her wrong.

But for all his feats in the field, he was kind of a disaster.  

He drank a lot – or at least he did those first few months. He drank less and less as time went on, but it wasn’t out of the ordinary to find him passed out on the couch with a bottle in his hands. After their first job together when he begrudgingly offered her a job as his partner, he let her move in with him. He gave up the single bedroom that looked like it hadn’t been used in years and didn’t even bat an eye at the mural she had painted on the duracrete walls.

What once was a literal death trap of garbage and broken glass became a meticulously clean living space that was at odds with her initial impression of him. He kept things neat and tidy, and completely devoid of any personal touches. It was weird, but then again, so was Kanan.

He thought he was hilarious and he could be really scary if someone pissed him off. He was ridiculously protective of her but still trusted her to handle herself. He even let her go out on jobs by herself if she asked. As brash as he was, he was gentle, possessing a deep wisdom that she found comforting when she was missing home.

But most importantly, he never asked about her past. Beyond his initial questions, Kanan didn’t seem to want to know where she came from or why she wasn’t on Mandalore. He just quietly accepted what she gave him and left it at that. In turn, she never asked him about his. She knew he had one; no-one ever drank that much because of a happy life. But she didn’t pry, not even after he gave her one simple rule: don’t open the drawer under the bunk on the Escape.

She had wanted to of course, the very second he said it. But the haunted look in his eyes stopped her short. It only added to the mystery that followed him everywhere he went.

Sabine had a feeling that whatever had happened to Kanan that had made him into the man he was today had to do with the Empire. It would certainly explain why Empire Day bothered him so much. The drinking and the fighting became more frequent as the day grew closer, and it seemed like this year was no different.

Kanan groaned from where he was sprawled out on the couch, pulling his hair free from its tie and shaking it loose. Sabine gave up on her blasters and retreated to the small kitchen, retrieving a cold pack from the cold storage unit. She tossed it in his direction, Kanan uncannily catching it without opening his eyes.

“We got a job while you were out,” she said, suppressing a shiver.

“Guild work?” he asked as he applied the pack to his bruised eye.

“No, this one is from Maz. She said it was our kind of thing.”

She didn’t have to see Kanan’s face to know he was rolling his eyes. Just about everyone else on Takodana loved or respected the old pirate queen who owned the castle, except for Kanan. On the odd occasion that he actually did go down to the castle he was always on edge, and looked to be two seconds away from starting a fight with the next person who so much as sneezed in his direction. Sabine was usually the one to go and talk to Maz. She may be a funny little thing but she always had good jobs to offer.

Unfortunately, convincing Kanan to take them was the hard part. More often than not, Maz’s jobs involved the Empire, and Kanan liked to keep his distance when the Empire was involved. This job was no different.

“We don’t have a thing.” Kanan sat up, his long hair falling around his shoulders.

“This could be our thing, if you just looked at it.” She pointed to the datapad sitting on the table in front of him. Kanan shot her a loaded look before picking up the pad. He couldn’t have been a few sentences in before he was shaking his head.

“No way,” he said. “This is not our kind of thing.”

“Oh c’mon, Kanan,” she groaned. “Did you see how much it pays?”

“Yeah, I saw. I also saw that we would be stealing classified intel from Sienar Fleet Systems. If we get caught, that’s it – we’re dead.”

“If, if we get caught. C’mon, I know we can do it,” she pleaded. “Please, Kanan?”

There was another thing that she learned about Kanan since joining him; he was completely incapable of resisting her.

He looked at her, knowing full well what she was doing, and sighed. “Fine.” He sank back down on the couch. “Take some credits out of the safe and book passage on that commuter shuttle out of Andui.”

Sabine paused. “Why not the Escape?”

Kanan shrugged. “I got a feeling,” was all he said.

Sabine had learned early on that if Kanan had a feeling about something, it was best to just roll with it.  So she did as she was instructed and took a handful of credits from the safe tucked away in her room. Kanan was sound asleep when she came back into the main room, flopped over on his stomach and snoring.

He looked younger in his sleep. Kanan never told her – and she never thought to ask – but he had to be in his late twenties at least. Except, he seemed to carry the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, making him appear older. Maybe after this job they should take a break for a while. They could cash in on those credits locked away in the safe and visit Spira for a few rotations, something to help Kanan relax a little.

She knew he’d never go for that. He grunted in his sleep as if in agreement.

Sabine sighed. She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. For all his faults and all his weirdness, she was glad to have found him.

[garywonghc]

If you seek realisation, be a practical practitioner

by Anyen Rinpoche

This is an interesting phenomenon, since Western society and culture tend to be both practical and pragmatic. Why do we lose our heads when it comes to the Dharma? If we do not cultivate a practical attitude focused on creating the best possible conditions to support our practice, an attitude of willingness to cut through all inner and outer distractions, then the Dharma will not penetrate our heart and mind.

The practical practitioner puts forth all the effort necessary to bring about meaningful change. We must support our practice by being mindful, deliberate, and undistracted. These qualities help us integrate the dharma in every situation we might face. Beyond developing these supports, if we wish to achieve realisation, we need to increase our spiritual capacity and deepen our practice.

Left to our own devices, many of us find that our spiritual practice doesn’t deepen. We try all kinds of things to wake ourselves up. Like dharma tourists, we chase after different spiritual teachers. We sit weekend retreats. We practice daily. We listen to CDs and read books. We do cleanses and work with healers. Sometimes, when we are in the presence of a spiritual teacher, we may feel we understand the practice of meditation, but when we get home that understanding eludes us. This brings us to an even bigger question:

IS REALISATION EVEN POSSIBLE FOR WESTERN BUDDHISTS?

Logically speaking, it must be possible, since we all possess buddhanature. provided that we rely on the right methods, realisation is possible for everyone.

I, myself, follow the methods of the tradition called the secret Mantrayana Vajrayana. This Tibetan tradition has led countless yogis, both ancient and modern, to realise and manifest completely omniscient wisdom. I find it pragmatic to follow a tradition that other yogis who came before me have followed in order to achieve realisation. I would hesitate to follow a tradition that has been changed or modernised, because the results of following such a path are unknown.

In our culture, we have a certain affinity for doing things our own way and for doing things that have never been done before. This is just the sort of impractical attitude that can cause obstacles in our dharma practice, because if we were to follow methods other than those taught and practiced by the lineage holders, we would have no idea what the results of our practice would be.

CERTAINTY IS KEY TO BEING A PRACTICAL PRACTITIONER

The tradition of the secret Mantrayana Vajrayana teaches that spiritual capacity can only be developed on the bedrock of certainty. Certainty is the topic of one of Mipham Rinpoche’s most famous texts, Beacon of Certainty. The theme of certainty also permeates the tantric, or Vajrayana, tradition as a whole.

Whether we are on the path of sutra or tantra, we benefit from:

- being certain of our practice, - being certain of the instructions for the practice and, - being certain of the way practice should unfold when done correctly.

When we’ve developed certainty, we become a practical practitioner, because we become mindful and cognisant of our entire experience and our progress on the path.

INTELLECTUAL CERTAINTY

Certainty is an ever-deepening principle. When we work with developing certainty, we have to start right at the very beginning, with intellectual certainty. We relate to the ordinary world around us with our intellect, so it makes sense that we also connect with practice using our ordinary, everyday mind and intellect. We use our intellect to analyse the words of a teaching and to try to make sense of the nuts and bolts of it. This is how we glean some understanding of the practice. But many of us mistake this basic understanding, this intellectual certainty, for wisdom and realisation. They are not the same.

We could say that this intellectual process we go through is an aspect of wisdom, but it is ordinary, everyday wisdom rather than transcendental wisdom. That means it is based in dualistic mind. When we apply intellectual certainty, we see that it is quite practical, but it is not enough to cut through our deeply ingrained habits of doubt and skepticism.

For example, the root of the entire mahayana path is the development of bodhichitta, the awakened mind that experiences compassion for all beings. In the beginning, we need to develop intellectual certainty in bodhichitta as a concept, so we investigate. Bodhichitta is divided into the classifications of conventional and ultimate. Conventional bodhichitta is the twofold wish to attain enlightenment for the benefit of self and others. Using our intellect, we can learn more about bodhichitta and deepen our certainty about what it means. We need at least a functional idea of bodhichitta to get beyond the charade of pretending to practice with it.

EXPERIENTIAL CERTAINTY

But to go beyond doubt and skepticism, we need to deepen our experience so we can change from having mere intellectual certainty to having experiential certainty. How does intellectual certainty give rise to experiential certainty? Intellectual certainty can be described as “understanding.” It can even be a deep and profound understanding of our practice. Taking again the example of awakening bodhichitta, we may develop the intellectual certainty that bodhichitta is beyond any partiality and contrivance; however, bodhichitta isn’t an intellectual experience. It is a genuine experience of feeling completely connected to each and every sentient being.

As ordinary practitioners, we can’t expect to experience the meaning of the dharma directly at every moment, but we may have glimpses of genuine experience. In the beginning, we may think to ourselves, “I understand what conventional bodhichitta is. It means that I could feel the same impartial compassion for each and every living being.” Sometimes, when we are sitting on the cushion or engaged in daily activities, we come across a situation or state of mind that moves us very deeply, and in those moments, we may actually have the experience of impartial compassion for sentient beings.

We’re able to recognise those experiences because we have the support of intellectual certainty. Without the support of our intellectual understanding, we could have an experience like that, but the moment might pass by without our being aware of it. So intellectual certainty is the basis for both an experience and the ability to recognise the experience. Catching a glimpse of the true meaning of our practice in this way gives rise to experiential certainty.

REALISED CERTAINTY

We should also know that experience is not the same as realisation, however. These glimpses help us genuinely experience our practice, but they are limited, undeveloped, and seen through the lens of our dualistic vision.

Realisation is possible if it is based on both intellectual certainty and experiential certainty. Without these two, realisation is just something that we read about in a book or hear about in a teaching. It isn’t within our reach at all. How do intellectual and experiential certainty give rise to realisation? Based on intellectual certainty, we are able to sit down and focus on a practice such as bodhichitta and catch glimpses of uncontrived and impartial loving-kindness and compassion. However, this experience is fleeting and unpredictable; we encounter it only by accident or by chance. Although it is larger than our ordinary, day-to-day state of mind, it is limited. We cannot sustain it, and we forget what it feels like when it isn’t there. According to the canon of Buddhist teachings, our momentary, uncontrived experience falls short of authentic realisation, which is a thorough, complete, and lasting transformation of our ordinary mind.

Another way to understand the difference between experience and realisation is that in the beginning we may feel the experience of the practice in our body. For example, when cultivating bodhichitta, we call to mind a being who is suffering and we may have a visceral reaction. We may feel a deep sense of connection and compassion toward that being, which we can extend outward to other beings. However, this is not true realisation. Realisation penetrates the mind. It colours our entire physical, mental, and spiritual experience, and does not simply arise from a visceral experience. It is, by definition, all pervasive.

APPLYING THREEFOLD CERTAINTY:

We can apply threefold certainty — intellect, experience, and realisation — to any practice. For example, when we learn about tonglen practice, we receive teachings and reflect on how the practice works. Then, based on listening and contemplation, we start to engage with the practice by working with the breath. As we exhale, we send out our root of virtue to all sentient beings. We say “root of virtue” because this virtue has the ability to nurture and ripen happiness in ourselves and others. As we breathe in, we take in all of the suffering and negativity of sentient beings, with the wish that we may alleviate their pain. Through practicing tonglen more and more, we begin to experience glimpses of what it means to actually do tonglen. The practice is accompanied by the physical feeling of sending our root of virtue to others and actually taking in their suffering, hardships, and negativity. Probably some of us have had this feeling while practicing ton-glen. Over time, if we practice diligently, we will perfect the paramita of generosity based on this practice, and we will realise an unlimited ability to share everything we have, including our own body, loved ones, and wealth, with every sentient being without exception — without even a hair of doubt.

We can apply threefold certainty to ordinary shamatha techniques and even to tantric practices such as generation and perfection stages. In fact, we must apply threefold certainty to these practices; otherwise, perfectly pure realisation of the path will not arise in us.