Mother of the Rebellion
Bardotta
Her bare figure kneeled before a stone statuette in a room full of faint primary colors and the subtle smell of an incense. Her spine seemingly pierced the skin covering her back as she leaned in and clasped the palms of her hands together. The humid room, and moist floors sat rather comfortably against her bare skin as she went in for prayer.
Lowering her head, and breathing in an air that was fresh and reminiscent of that on Naboo; she started to feel comfortable with this journey she'd made.
The middle path.
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"There did exist cultures that utilized ascetic practices designed for oppressing the body in as variegated as numerous ways. Those who adopted them believed that they would enable them to get liberated from the sorrow possessed by living beings."
She mused over her writing, reflecting back to when it was real; she was reliving it all over again.
"Like a bird that crosses the cloudless sky on a straight line. Everyone is free..."
Her notes were written casually.
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Visitors were rather infrequent in this holy place, especially after the Bardottans reclaimed it and rebuilt their Monastery. While the subtle hum accumulated from far flung monks, she was shedding her robes all the way down to her undergarments.
Just a few feet in front of her was one of the attendants; a disciple himself...though less so that he was able to attend to administrative duties as well; that was uncommon here it seemed.
Layer by layer by layer.
She forsook each layer of clothing, becoming more confident with each piece. Before long, there was nothing but her bare body taking up space. Her clothes were whisked away.
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"We're convinced that the ultimate goal of existence lied in knowing how to enjoy it to the full and focus all of our efforts on best enjoying sensuous pleasures. How do we break that?" She recorded while reflecting.
"I went into meditation...trying to contemplate and really understand the lesson. There was no instruction...