Archives for the month of: April, 2017

Post number 7 of 33 in The Ganymede Progression.

Solitude and Isolation are contrasting ways to look at a similar experience: that of being alone. One can be solitary, preferring to be alone and enjoying that time to oneself, or one can be isolated, cut off from their peers in a detrimental way. Whilst there are differences in the meanings of these terms, I feel they’re both fundamentally about being away from other people and in one’s own company. They are parallel ways of looking at the same thing, and what for me may be solitude, for another may be isolation. Solitude is a pleasure; isolation is lonely. In my life I’ve experienced both of these extremes.

I mentioned in my previous post on anger that I was a solitary child growing up, and it’s true – I spent a lot of time by myself, learning to appreciate my own company and entertain myself. This was in part because of difficulties in my family home which led me to want to, honestly, hide away. But in that hiding place I found solace, and peace. I learned the pleasures of reading both fiction and non-fiction, a passion which would lead me to my English Lit and Philosophy degree years later. I learned to enjoy nature, walking in the countryside which surrounded my childhood home, learning the names of the birds and the trees. And I would learn to trust myself, to accept myself, and to understand that, despite the circumstances of my home, I was an OK guy.

At the same time, I felt isolated from my friends, most of whom lived some 10 miles away in the nearest town. There were no buses and the prospect of cycling the 10 miles every day across the Chiltern hills (which stood between the town and my village) was not an enticing one. I longed for some company at times, and when the internet came along I was an early adopter, spending a lot of time on music forums and forming friendships with people far away. This led to several long-distance relationships, including one with a girl from central Sweden. I only met her three times during our relationship, and whilst they remain some of the happiest times in my life, three weeks in 11 months certainly left me feeling isolated.

Jedi believe that all things are connected; I believe all is one. I suppose my experiences of solitude and isolation might make that less likely. That perhaps spending time feeling “alone” might lead a person to the conclusion that they can be “cut off” from that which surrounds them. Personally I’ve found the opposite is true. I know I can make it alone, because I’ve done that. I know I can survive a harsh environment by myself, if I need to. I know that the trees and birds and little copses are part of what makes me, me. I know that my friends are too, and that the usernames on internet forums mask real faces, real people in other places. I feel these connections as a consequence of my isolation, of my solitude.

And I know that, in solitude, one can come to peace. Meditation has long been a part of my path, and in that profound solitude behind our eyes, behind our thoughts, I find a connection which cannot be denied – when I meditate I am one, alone. But I am not just tzb sat on his zafu; my roots go down, through my seat, up in my breath. I am the breeze on my skin, the heat or cold in the room. I am the noise in the street and the people in the next apartment. When I meditate, I am one, alone. And that one is the entire universe.

To be Jedi is to be comfortable in one’s own skin, knowing quietly that the rest of the world, of the universe, is our ally. To be Jedi is to get rid of the idea of isolation in ourselves, and to know only a profound connection with all things. Sure, we might get lonely sometimes, long for some human contact. But we know that even without that contact, all that is “human” is within us. But we also practice compassion, and don’t expect everyone to share our understanding. We know that for some, isolation is a very real problem. We understand that loneliness can lead to depression and anxiety. And whilst we may be comfortable in solitude, we don’t leave others to suffer it alone.

To be Jedi is to be an ally of all people, all places. To understand we are connected at a profound level, a left hand meeting the right. We accept that the hands may lie apart, but that through the body, the Force, they are one. It is only a matter of perception; just as it is when differentiating between solitude and isolation.


Post number 6 of 33 in The Ganymede Progression.

Anger is a theme which resonates deeply with me, and the path which led me to the Temple.

I grew up in an angry house. My father was, and is, a very angry man, who used anger as a tool to intimidate those around him into submission. He was not (so far as I’m aware) ever violent at home, but he was deeply “violent” in his demeanour. Bullying, attacking, and demeaning, his anger stemmed from… well, if I knew where, I’d have a few valuable answers in my life. But I can only imagine they came from a feeling of inadequacy in himself.

My parents rowed a lot when I grew up. I remember vividly wishing my Mum would divorce my Dad, that we could get clear of his aggressive, angry influence. To this day I’m not sure why she didn’t, because some of the behaviour I witnessed in my childhood home was absolutely disgusting. My brother, sadly, takes after my father. He’s also an angry person, angry at life, at the world, at the poor decisions he feels were forced upon him.

So. This is a bit of a digression, but it speaks to my familiarity with anger. The problem is, I didn’t escape its influence either.

As I was growing up, I wasn’t especially angry. I generally kept quiet. I was the “good” son, who stayed out of trouble in order to avoid the anger around me. I was solitary (more about that in the next response), staying in my room or walking the woods and fields of my village. I didn’t have a lot of time for people, because I didn’t trust them. However, as I got older, more gregarious and socially active, my confidence grew. I was happy in my late teens, independent but optimistic. I felt I finally had the power to escape the negative environment of the childhood home I hated, and get away to friendlier homes, friendlier faces.

In my twenties, this trend progressed into arrogance. My early twenties found me drinking heavily, behaving unpleasantly, and by my late twenties, increasingly angry. This anger manifest itself in my home, a mirror of the anger I had grown up with. When I got married, the main target of my anger became my wife. We met at school and spent 13 years together, but by the end it was clear we’d used up whatever love had been there in our relationship, and had grown to resent one another.

I’m not proud to say our attitude towards each other became increasingly hostile when we had children together – not at first, but as time went on and our approaches to parenting, and the underlying philosophies there, diverged deeply. Things got to the point where my wife physically attacked me, quite a few times in the end. Spite, bitterness, unrelenting anger. Of course, there were patches of light, which made us believe there was something worth fighting for, something to return to some day. And that wasn’t the case.

So. My early thirties, and I found the Temple. I regained a great deal of purpose and control in my life. I put a lot right, and of course made some mistakes too. But by and large, my life was more “together” than it had been since I was a teen. But the anger in my home persisted, and my children were starting to see it. The arguments and resentment spilled out from behind closed doors, and my infant children watched with wide eyes. One day I realised what I was doing – exposing my children to the same anger I had grown up within. I was fulfilling the same destiny my parents had laid before themselves. I was repeating the cycle.

So I broke the cycle. I ended the relationship, moved out. Found peace. Found love, as it happens. I broke the cycle. My children now have two very happy, very fulfilled parents, both in healthy and peaceful, loving relationships. They do not have to live in anger, around anger, behind anger. They are free to be kids. The things which used to drive me crazy with anger now make me laugh or at worst make me frown, swear under my breath, and move on. Anger is a fire. It smoulders before it flares, and given a hot climate, it bursts out unexpectedly. It can take a very, very long time for it to burn itself out. The best thing a person can do is starve it of oxygen; stop feeding it, stop engaging with it. Remove yourself from its vicinity. But when it’s out, it’s out. It takes something major to start it up again.

That fire is out, in me. But I know what it was, I know how it felt, I know the things it made me say and do which I will carry. Shouting at my infant son in the car, one night when he refused to sleep. The time I caught my wife’s fist when she went to hit me and almost, almost, hit her back. The way I looked at people I love, with hatred, resentment, limitless rage. I was a fool, in those days. But everything was so distorted, so strange and unreal. In that fire, everything was fuel.

And now everything is just… what it is. Sure, things make me angry now. Things piss me off, wind me up, drive me nuts. And then they go. The fuel burned up, so the sparks can’t hold. I might get annoyed sometimes, but I’m done being angry. I’m done being a self-fulfilling prophecy. I’m calmer, and my life is better because of it. My children’s lives will be better because of it.

And the cycle is broken.

Post number 5 of 33 in The Ganymede Progression.

Pride has a variety of meanings. One can be proud of oneself, or of others. One can be proud in the sense that they will suffer no criticism from others. Pride can be a flaw, one can be “too proud” so they see only what’s good about themselves or what they’re doing, at the expense of clarity on the work yet to be done. It’s important to take a degree of pride in what we do. There is no reason not to enjoy the fruits of our labours, and to appreciate the rewards we have earned. But we must not do so at the expense of a more rounded view which includes the problems we still face, the learning we still need to undertake. The growth we will always require.

I would suggest the opposite of pride is shame. Shame is an inverse kind of pride, a detraction from our self-image earned by actions we do not feel proud of, rather than gained by them. Shame is an emotion which can teach us a great deal – as pride reqards us, so shame chides us. But again, an excess of shame is not beneficial and can make us unbalanced people. I don’t suggest it’s wise to “cultivate shame” – only to feel it, to understand it and the lessons it contains. How can we wish to improve an aspect of our interaction with the world until we recognise it as imperfect?

For me, humility is an alternative to an excess of pride rather than opposite to it. We can be pleased with the humility we achieve – one could describe that as a form of pride gained in humility. But one cannot be “a proud person” whilst remaining humble. I feel there’s a great deal of pride to be gained in humble actions, and honestly I don’t see these elements as incompatible, or as elements on the same spectrum. I can be overly humble, and feel ashamed. And I can be humble in a correct proportion and feel proud.

Pride can separate us from those around us. When we place ourselves above others, even above our former selves, we ignore a very important and fundamental truth of reality; that we are all one. We are a continuous, contiguous element of that-which-is: the Force. I’m reminded of a key passage from the Tao Te Ching:

Don’t glorify heroes, And people will not contend.
Don’t treasure rare objects, And no one will steal.
Don’t display what people desire, And their hearts will not be disturbed.
Therefore, the Sage rules By emptying hearts and filling bellies,
By weakening ambitions and strengthening bones;
Leads people Away from knowing and wanting;
Deters those who know too much From going too far:
Practices non-action And the natural order is not disrupted.

Pride in excess encourages us to place ourselves “above” things in a similar way, and I agree with the message of the Old Master; it is unwise to hold anything in too high of an esteem – especially ourselves, who we know to be flawed in many important ways from experience, but similarly recognise as perfect, unique and beautiful in our singularity. Pride is something which must be held in balance, and as I said in my previous entry it is a weak mind which places itself in too high an esteem, or is too impressed by itself.

To put it bluntly, the hand that paints one’s masterpiece is the same hand that wipes one’s arse.

Times in my life where I’ve been proud have generally been moments where I’ve achieved something I didn’t believe myself capable of. The times that I have dealt with that pride the best have been those where I used the momentum to continue achieving, to live better, to do more. The moments where I have handled my pride shamefully have involved me crowing about how good I am, how well I’ve done, to stop achieving to figuratively admire myself in the mirror.

I guess as I move along in my life I have less and less time for pride, both in myself and in others. Sure, I enjoy the pride my children display in their endeavours, but I feel that’s where pride has its most important place; it’s a learning tool many come to dispose of when they reach maturity (and which plenty hold onto endlessly, in their ongoing immaturity), but for kids, pride is a well-deserved reward for accomplishing something personally challenging. At the same time, we can all call to mind the boastful kids who crow of their achievements while others struggle. And I imagine we all feel similarly about that kind of excessive, “loud” pride.

So pride is not a bad thing, in moderation. There is no shame in being proud of one’s accomplishments, but only so far as they don’t prevent us from endeavouring to go on accomplishing. Pride should not be an excuse to demean, belittle or otherwise attack others. Pride should not make us Proud, so to speak. We can be quietly pleased with things we do, but none of us can think ourselves “there”, not really. We all have stupid moments, weak moments, angry moments. We have plenty to be “ashamed of” (I’m trying to think of a weaker phrase as that does come over a little stronger than I mean it, but hopefully my meaning is clear in the context), and that should hold our pride in balance. I spoke in my last post about the erroneous notion of “getting there”. A proud person can think of themselves as “there”, or “getting there”, and that is a delusion.

Post number 4 of 33 in The Ganymede Progression.

In the west, Conscience is most often symbolised as an angel on one shoulder, and a devil on the other, locked in mutual disagreement about what the person between them should do. Listen to the selfish, angsty advisor with the red pitchfork, or to the white, feathered one with the halo?

In real life, conscience works a little differently to this. We rarely have such a black and white distinction, rarely only two options available at any one time. We usually have a whole gamut of possibilities before us, and must work to make the best of our situation using whatever assets are at our disposal. This relates strongly to our ability (can I do it?) – conscience is instead concerned with “Can I live with it?”.

It may sound dramatic, but I think it’s a realistic illustration of the principle of conscience. I may not feel I cannot live with my decision to steal a chocolate bar, but small infractions of my moral standards do add up to larger problems with who I am and what that self-sustaining ethical framework can mean in my life. Most of us live with both large and small infractions on our conscience, from minor crimes and white lies to more serious things like affairs and acts of deliberate harm on others.

What rocks (racks?) my conscience may matter little to another. Thus conscience is again a subjective thing, something internal and built through a life, relative to the specifics of the situation. To use my earlier example, were I to lose my home and money, and had to resort to stealing food to feed my starving kids, my conscience would no doubt be somewhat less disturbed by the theft of a chocolate bar (mainly that I didn’t swipe something more nutritious perhaps). If the same act can affect our conscience differently, how can we think of it as a simple system?

The truth is, like the great manifold of the Force, conscience necessarily admits a huge number of variables. Who we are, where we are, who our actions affect and how are all considerations in matters of conscience. Our internal moral compass, and our ability to stray from its bearing into ethically murky areas suggest a mismatch between what we think we are, and what we really are. “I’m not the sort of person who…” can precede many crises of conscience, but the fact we consider something as an option, and sometimes do something we ourselves find ethically troubling, imply that we are ignorant of a degree of our nature.

So what does this mean for Jedi? To be Jedi is to be a creature of conscience. Showing respect for all within the Force implies making only choices which are for the good of all, or perhaps just “the greater good”. In reality, as I said at the start, it’s rarely a “this-or-that” decision, and even when it is we may take the wrong road and have to live with something we find inherently reprehensible.

But, as Jedi, we must work to understand the lessons our conscience teaches us. We may feel uncomfortable with who we have been in our past, but this is the key to becoming better in the future. Our path shows us the direction we have travelled in, up to now. It indicates the direction of our future and allows us to make course adjustments. We are charged with doing good, but what if we do not think of ourselves as “good” people? We make change. We accept what has happened as necessary fodder for our growth and development as human beings. We thank our paths for making us Jedi, and thereby changing our fortune to one which seeks the path of “right”.

And we LISTEN. We show respect to those around us (and to ourselves), by recognising the harm, or good, our actions do. We don’t assume we are right just because we feel we are; instead, we allow the Force to teach us, to change us and recreate us, in the perpetual act of change which is the action of the Force. Conscience compelled some of the “worst” people in history to do the things they did. It’s rare a person sets out to do ill, but rather to settle a score, to right a wrong. If our efforts as Jedi create more “wrong”, it’s both our gift and our obligation to bring our conscience to bear on what we do, what we’ve done and hope to do in the future. And we do so not solely by hearing the angel and the devil; we do so in retrospect, in hindsight, making plans to do better in the future, and to always, always keep listening.

Post number 3 of 33 in The Ganymede Progression.

In order to learn from others, and see others as “worthy” of our trust, compassion, and in some cases perhaps even our mercy, we must cultivate respect for them. Respect is a subjective quality relating to our ability to perceive worth or value in others. We act with respect by treating others kindly, and a lack of respect in treating them without due consideration and empathy.

Respect is often described as something people earn. Whilst I believe it’s true that to some extent, I can grow to respect people more than when I first meet them, I prefer to think that respect is something to be extended to all beings – all life. If I meet a person in the street, my default tone is not disrespectful, nor is it likely I would treat an animal with an absence of respect had it not done me some service prior to my making the judgement.

Respect, then, is an attitude, a demeanour, as well as an attribute we can perceive in those around us. Respect implies a certain regard for the feelings, opinions and motivations of something other than oneself, an outward-facing empathy and compassion, as well as a willingness to learn from others (perhaps that is true compassion anyway?), rather than a conceited or arrogant attitude that we ourselves must know better than others.

Perhaps this is a reflection of the Jedi way, to be respectful of all beings by default. We recognise the primacy of the wider Force and do not seek to aggrandize our own position or belief. To be one with the Force is to recognise its influence, relevance and presence in all things. How can we go through life without respect if we truly believe in the Force?

And that begs the question – can respect be truly lost, knowing what we know as Jedi? That’s a difficult one. Through compassion we can realise the failings of others, which might induce us to lose respect for them, are down to difficulties on their part. People don’t want to be small-minded, by and large. They don’t ordinarily set out to be “bad people”, and even when they do that’s usually a symptom of some underlying lack in their own life up to now. I can’t honestly say there are people who deserve no respect at all, or even less than others. Perhaps it’s those who seem to deserve it least who would benefit the most from that compassionate brand of respect I’m describing.

That said, self respect is an important facet of this picture. It’s that old paradox… before we can help others, we must help ourselves. And with respect, before we can truly respect others, I feel we must have respect for ourselves. If we live in a world where we feel we are worthless in comparison to all others, our attribution of worth in the form of respect to others is essentially meaningless. What position are we in to judge others as either worthy of respect or not, if we can’t respect ourselves?

Self respect involves learning to be “OK” with who we are, the path we’ve taken and the decisions we’ve made. Perhaps here it’s true to say that respect is earned, as for myself personally it’s a struggle to be kind to myself, to regard my own decisions and actions in the past without recourse to blame and other disrespectful modes of thought. Perhaps this is the major learning point I’ve taken from this lesson: If I am unkind to myself in regard to my former decisions and actions, it’s unlikely that I can be fully respectful of others. Where I might forgive or excuse another, I’m far more likely to criticise and “expect better” of myself.

Respect is necessary for Jedi not solely because our philosophy and belief in the Force implies a brand of universal respect for “The Other”; without respect we lose our power as mediators and agents of aid and support to those around us. Without understanding the subjective nature of respect, and the protocol of bestowing respect (ie acting respectfully, across cultural and societal bounds), we cannot fully serve our aims as Jedi. Respect is not something a Jedi should wait to earn. We should act with respect for others by default, and thereby cultivate the same universal respect from those we encounter, however unlikely that respect may seem to others.

This is the root of Jedi belief in the sanctity of all life: all life is one in the Force, and by respecting any fraction of that totality, we show disrespect to the wider whole. We must respect the balance, the unity, rather than just the aspects we find most palatable ourselves.

Post number 2 of 33 in The Ganymede Progression.

Acceptance is related somewhat to my former essay on happiness. I suggested that to be truly happy, beneath the peaks and troughs of emotion we must have a kind of “baseline peace”, a “resting state” of happiness which persists through the traumas and difficulties we may face. One important way we achieve this is through acceptance.

Acceptance is, in one sense, our ability to tolerate and thrive despite things we cannot change. Life is full of obstacles like this – immovable roadblocks which we cannot break through, but instead must find a path around. Acceptance is our capacity to keep going, and by that I mean keep happy as much as anything, despite these obstacles. By practising acceptance I recognise I alone will never solve the problem of people being homeless; that I cannot stand for Prime Minister (I have too many other things on this week) and am therefore unlikely to house the many thousands of people who sleep rough in my country. But acceptance is not passive: as such I volunteer at a homeless shelter, and make what small difference I can to this important issue.

As Jedi, acceptance is key to our path. We cannot transform the world into a global Jedi community overnight. Those of us who have been at the Temple for a few years will be able to remember many occasions of people showing up with what they think is an amazing idea (more often than not a physical Temple somewhere nearby to where they live), and they are given a lesson in acceptance… that the wider community wouldn’t benefit from that, or at least that they should spend time getting to know the TOTJO way of doing things before planning to open a “local chapter”, something few of these enterprising individuals are prepared to do in the final analysis.

And there’s the rub – acceptance is hard! Accepting we can’t do some things is a real bummer and can absolutely affect our ability to be happy. I myself am a fixer. I don’t like to rest until something is “sorted”, and I find it very challenging to let go of something I feel has been left undone. But that is acceptance, and I’m learning to be better at it.

I recently advised a new member of our community who approached me for advice on finding their way. I advised them to clear their mind of preconceptions and to look at things from a fresh perspective. This is an important tool in coming to a place of acceptance – we cannot always get things to the state we want them in, and we cannot always achieve what we do want in the way we feel we “should”. And that term – should – is another factor here.

As creatures humans are predisposed to visualisation. Even if this is not a literal “mental picture” of how things could be, most of us hold deep down in our cores some narrative, some blueprint of what it is that we really need, want, desire. And when we don’t get it, in our hearts we feel short-changed. We have been “deprived” of something we “should” have. This can be anything – that speedboat, the ferarri, or simple stuff like someone’s affection, or even our own peace of mind. This idea that we “should” have anything is an illusion. What we have is what we should have, always. The Force makes no mistakes.

Let me restate that. The Force makes no mistakes.

We get what we were always going to get. We are where we were always going to be. We will respond how we were always going to respond. For most, that implies hang-wringing and aggravation about how things “should” have been. But for the wise, though there is always a period of this learning should-ness, we begin to learn all we should have, is what we have. It is up to us to get where we want to go, and also up to us to accept where we end up. Accept that what we have, is what we are apportioned. To trust in the Force and to work with what we have to achieve the best life we can.

Acceptance is a tough skill to learn and like anything, a difficult beast to truly master. I’m a long way off this mastery! But as life teaches me to let go of all that I fear to lose… or to have it wrenched from my hands regardless? I think I’m getting better at accepting whatever I have as a blessing, and whatever I don’t have as simply none of my business. I accept who I am in order to learn to be a better person. I accept where I am in order to live a better life. And I accept what I get because I recognise that I can’t control what tomorrow will bring – only the attitude with which I face it.

Post number 1 of 33 in The Ganymede Progression.

Happiness is something we all want in our lives. Happiness is the state of contentment and peace with things “as they are”, and can be momentary, fleeting, but still profound. The feeling of happiness is a kind of heaven, a moment of bliss, which lets us forget our troubles and enjoy our situation. Happiness is, for many of us, the goal of our lives.

But happiness is elusive. Many of us spend our lives striving to achieve lasting happiness, even to the extent of ignoring or down-playing temporary moments of joy as, in our minds, they do not make us “happy people”. To be a happy person, we reason, we must never be sad. Our lives must be limitless oceans of joy, endless days of bliss. And as Jedi, we must understand this is not the case.

Happiness is one extreme of a dichotomy, the other side being sadness. Sadness is dissatisfaction with the way things are, a desire for our situation or perhaps our selves to be different from however we find them. Some seek happiness in money, or fame, or power, because we feel that an absence of these things is making us unhappy. But as Jedi we recognise that dichotomies are false in both directions; that it is only in our perception that things are good or bad, that it’s only in our own minds that the qualities of “happy” and “sad” exist. And as Jedi, we understand that an abundance of happiness is a kind of imbalance.

Without up there can be no down. Likewise, without sadness, there can be no true happiness.

So how then do we become happy people? How do we cultivate happiness in our own lives, if to be happy implies being sad in equal measure? Is it enough to simply have as much happiness as sadness, and strike a balance in that way? The truth goes a little deeper. We can learn to be “happy” in a smaller, more simple way. We can find peace with what is, both the “bad” and the “good”. Contentment in this sense is an understanding that “This too shall pass” – both the good times and the bad.

Many people focus on the negative aspects of their lives. They feel as though they are “unhappy people” because they have a lot of sadness. But these same people can enjoy the smile of a friend, the laugh of a good joke, the intimate touch of a loved one. They can be free from their sorrow in moments, even if they feel their default mode is one of misery. And here is the trick – it is our focus which defines our reality. Yes, it is easy to focus on the negative. To feel life is cheating us out of happiness which we deserve. But another way of looking at our situation is we are blessed with many hundreds of moments of happiness, even between great traumas. It’s so simple to look at what we don’t have, and feel an absence. But it’s still possible to look at what we do have, and find an abundance.

It’s clear we can choose to count our blessings, or our curses. But the list contains the same things, looked at in different ways.

I myself haven’t always been a positive person. Happiness is something I’ve struggled to find over the last few years, between the end of my marriage and the place I am now. But I have come to realise the universe, indeed the Force, owes me nothing. My happiness is my responsibility, no-one else’s. Oh sure, my children make me happy. My girlfriend makes me ecstatic almost every day. But it’s not their job to “do happy”. It’s mine. They could be exactly the same, but were I not to entertain the idea of “being happy”, I’d never be it.

Beyond that, I’m learning to notice happiness. It sounds so silly when as I mentioned, people strive for happiness all their lives. But how many people stop to notice it when they have it? I’ve had many times in the past year where I’ve actively thought to myself how happy I am. How at a given moment, nothing is wrong. Everything is OK. Again, it’s so, so easy to focus on the bad times; the dark moments, the low ebbs. And it’s actually just as easy to see our lives are peppered with perfect moments, yes the joyful occasions like birthdays and weddings, but also simple smiles, moments of peace and contentment.

Yesterday I went walking in the woods. I climbed a tree. And despite my apartment being under threat, not having a job, and yes still working through the ramifications of my marriage ending a few months ago… the sun shone down, a gentle breeze lifted the leaves in the trees, a distant buzzard circled far to the west, echoing cries across the valley, and I was happy.

The Ganymede Progression is a collection of 33 topics for Jedi to reflect on.

The sequence is as follows:

Letting Go

In this category I will be posting my reflections on these topics.