Residential Area

This exercise was never simple, and, somehow. It only became harder over the years. Maybe he had become to old? Maybe he left it on the back burner for too long? In any case, regardless of reason, he had to try.

Leonhardt sat at the foot of his bed, legs crossed, hands on his lap. His lightsaber laid directly in front of him.

"Okay..."

He breathed in, held it for a moment, then exhaled. Relaxing breaths. It helped in clearing his mind of all irrelevant thoughts. All that mattered was this meditation. Breathe in, breathe out.

The mind began to fade. Noise seemed to become distant. Leonhardt could feel himself sinking into a silent darkness. Then were was light. First, there was one small dot in the distance. Then another. And another. Soon millions upon millions of specs of lights filled the darkness. He had succeeded in tapping into the Force.

Slowly, the specs of lights painted a picture. They took on the shape of the world around. He could identify his room. From the small dresser to the bed. His sight had taken on almost three hundred sixty degrees of vision. He could feel The Force swirling around him, moving within and without him. In a galaxy in turmoil, this was one of the few things that made sense. However, as his vision expanded and stretched outward, the objects began to blur. Less lights appeared to help create object, making it very difficult to identify anything. The Force Sight reached the wall directly across from his bedroom door.

Frustration began to sink in. No! Breathe. Calming breaths. In, and out.

The light wavered, but held together. Focus. Leonhardt focused on the edge, where clarity met obscurity. He would begin there by drawing more of the Force towards him. Like a painter who ran out of color for their portrait, he would just need to obtain more paint.