Work Text:
A Discussion of the Coruscant Centralization in the light of delo anohrah
When I was fourteen, I watched my Master die. It was a day like any other: blood, dirt, and the screams of the troops echoing in my ears. We had lost the battle, and as the Sith armies scavenged the fields, I hid in the mud hole that would be my grave and prison, clinging to my Master’s lightsaber with no intention of using it to my defense upon my demise. I did not think myself worthy of carrying her blade.
As I waited for certain death, covered in my own fear and darkness, I was deaf and blind to the world. If I were asked how I yet retained my connection to the light in its aftermath, I could not describe it. I only remember my despair, which ran so deep, I did not register the outside world. The only thing I could perceive was my own cold.
And then, as if a gift from the Force itself, a warm hand, and these words: Tolnah kodaih kat delo anohrah'ak.
It was only then that I dared to open my eyes and, upon seeing who was reaching out to me, threw myself into the arms of the Coruscanti Jedi I would henceforth call my Master. Ever since Tolnah kodaih kat delo anohrah'ak has been a guiding light in my life. It expresses solidarity across our various sects that even scattered as we are, we embrace our diversity and are better people because of our many temples and exchange programs (cf. Ianz 1120).
I was raised on Lothal.
I adore our bright mosaics, the corridors that lead you not where you want to be, but where you have to go. The grand meditation hall in which I chased my crèchemates rather than sit still and follow the exercises.
My crèchemates all died during the war.
I am the only one who survived it. We all want to rebuild, to heal, and return to the peace we do not quite remember. I understand my fellow Lothalian Jedi, the Corellian Sect, and all the others who are beyond upset at being forced to abandon their homes to move to Coruscant.
However, I disagree with the notion that the Coruscant Centralization is against the spirit of diversity our proverb advocates for.
Therefore, this essay will elaborate on the inherent meaning of Tolnah kodaih kat delo anohrah'ak and argue in favor of the centralization of the Jedi Order on Coruscant.
I will begin with examining each constituent of this proverb on its own before talking about the development of this saying and its significance.
To begin with, we have our present tense verb tolnah. Tolnah, when used in Basic, corresponds to the words “to come”, “to stem”, to “originate”. It refers to the place of your origin, the place you are inherently connected to. Many have already argued that from the first word on, the saying determines that the Coruscant Centralization is inherently against the meaning of tolnah. How can it be argued that we should hold onto tolnah, that where we grew up, and then be asked to abandon our homes?
I say that this argumentation is already starting on not only a false premise but a rather dangerous one as well. Reading tolnah so narrowly, as only the place we stem from, reducing the origin and growth of a person to such, is actively harming our Order.
How many of us were born in the temples we grew up in? How many were born on the planets our temples are standing on?
Few of our numbers, hardly anyone.
It has always been our tradition to wander far out in the galaxy and help those who need help. We have never restricted ourselves to the places we built our homes on. According to those who argue for this narrow reading of tolnah, I am not even a Jedi of Lothal, but a Jedi of Kubindi. This example alone already demonstrates why it is so dangerous to argue for this narrow reading of tolnah. Vital to our development as people are not the places we were born in, though we may cherish them forever, but the experiences that shape us.
I have visited my homeworld, have even fought on it and defended it, and I do not doubt that I am loved by my family there. Regardless of my blood ties, I will still say tolnah foh kat Lothal’ak. I stem from Lothal, the community I was brought up in. Community is central to our teachings.
We are not an Order of a specific place but of faith in the Force and community.
Similarly, does kodaih not refer only to the Jedi of my sect. We would all be fools if we limited kodaih, excluded our own. Kodaih was always meant to refer to all those we find unity in the Force with (cf. Nimar 56). It is an expression of unconditional support, not exclusion, and therefore it refers to every member of our Order, no matter what planet they are from.
Delo is the most interesting word of this proverb. It is not often that we make use of it, given that the Force reveals so very often that nothing is the exact same. Master Yelmen’s theory on unity in the Force, elaborated on in their thesis Lifelines and Inheritances, highlights that using delo for even the highly debated concept of Force Dyads, who are meant to be one in the Force, is questionable at best because no people can truly be the same. There may be similarities, but do not mistake them for being the exact same. From the earliest days in the crèche on, we are taught that delo is a word to be used with careful consideration.
In this proverb, however, I believe delo finds its most productive use in combination with anohrah’ak.
Anohrah – our temple, our home. I know many are devasted at the prospect of abandoning their home. It isn’t just any temple, anoh, that we are asked to leave, but the place we grew up, laughed, trained, were happy, comfortable, and safe in (cf. Quam 67).
When taking a closer look at this saying, it now seems almost paradox to speak of delo anohrah, the same homes. No temple is alike and I believe many would be insulted by the claim Coruscants’ spires and angular form resemble the curves of Lothal. Rightfully, do the narrow-minded claim that temples do not look the same and sleeping in a bed in Corellia is different from sleeping in a bed on Coruscant. However, this truth and tradition, is wielded as a weapon against necessary change, the safety of our children and the future of our Order.
Our homes are the same where it matters. We all grow up happy and comfortable in our temples. We love our young and support one another. Delo anohrah refers to the concept of a home as it feels in the Force: welcoming.
And in this prospect, we have all always had the same homes.
Now, when combining all these aspects, what conclusion can we reach?
Tolnah kodaih kat delo anohrah'ak, while casually translated as “We all stem from the same temple” refers to a sentiment I am only capable of describing in the words of Jedi Master Tech’an’ik Ma:
Uu Dai’ak, enoah foh anohrah.
In the Force, I am home.
Our proverb advocates for our diversity; yes, this is not a fact anyone will deny. It is meant to symbolize that despite our many different temples, our home, our values are still the same: we are followers of the light side of the Force. However, it is not ground to argue against the Coruscant Centralization as our home is never just a place; it is our community.
Sources
Ianz, Emeel. History of the Jedi Order: Expansion in the Outer Rim. HJO 357. Coruscant. (5330 C.R.C)
Ma, Tech’an’ik. “Luminous Beings”. Poetry in the Wake of Dantooine. Dantooine. (4021 C.R.C)
Nimar, Levell. Kodaih and boteh: Discourse of Community. Coruscant. (5346 C.R.C)
Quam, Ianoc. “Against the currents: Impossible Demands of the Ruusan Reformation.” Protests Against the Reformation. Alderaan. (6990 C.R.C)
Yelmen, Wekk. Lifelines and Inheritances. Corellia. (6122 C.R.C)