Pressure

The book's cover slammed shut, sucking me out of the vision. I had only glanced at the page, knowing this would happen, and scanning my memories revealed the chapter's contents. The second part of the chapter title interested me. 'Early Disciple stage' appeared to be the cultivation level required to practice this part of the Technique. Since the book had opened for me, I assumed that I had reached that level.

This stage of the Soul Becoming World Technique presented a significant conceptual barrier. The soul needed to become a container for Qi, but my soul was just a seed. It would take many sessions of deep meditation to shape the seed to my will. Luckily, I had just woken up and there was about an hour for me to make my first attempt.

I focused on my breath, then spread out my awareness. Manipulating my focus came naturally, and my consciousness swiftly separated from my body. I found myself in an empty space, stood before the soul seed.

Last time I had found it difficult to even move the seed, but this time I had to shape it. The chapter recommended forming a well, but that was too unfamiliar, and I couldn't picture it in my head. I focused on something I knew better, a bottle, and a clearer image formed.

I tried to expand the seed by pulling it apart, but it resisted, and I felt my concentration waver. Calming myself, I thought this process through. A bottle isn't a solid object. It's a sheet of plastic, extruded and shaped into a container. To form that sheet, I imagined a huge hydraulic press, squeezing the seed flat.

It countered the force and fought against me, but it trembled as I increased the pressure. I kept pressing and pressing, but veins of stinging pain drilled into my head, and I could feel myself weakening.

'Come on Oscar, just a little bit more. A little bit more and you've got this,' I chanted to myself, like a coach to an athlete.

Exhausting myself like this hurt. With every second I had less power to give, but I couldn't let up the pressure, or the seed would bounce back. I started counting down the seconds. Just another five seconds. Now, just another five more. It didn't matter if I was running on fumes, I had to keep going.

I was returning to my body, brought back to reality by the visceral pain in my chest. I couldn't be dragged back. The seed hadn't given in yet; it would bounce back at any moment. I summoned every drop of strength left in my mind and body and gave one last gargantuan push.

I would bend this seed to my will: crush it into submission. It started cracking, which only fuelled me more. The cracking escalated, until there was a snap, and I felt no more resistance. I didn't know what had happened, but I didn't have time to care, as I blacked out.

When I woke up, the nursery's windows were dark. It had been morning when I passed out, had I slept through the entire day? Thoughts of the time of day fled from my mind as the memory of my battle returned. It was hazy, and I couldn't tell how long the fight had gone on for, but I still felt tired and had a throbbing headache.

Abusing my infant body like this left a sour taste in my mouth. I didn't even feel the urge to cry. My body was acclimating to the pain of cultivation at a frightening pace. Resting was a top priority, but I needed to check on the seed first. The throbbing pain distracted me, but after some time, I vaguely felt something.

It emanated lulling waves of warmth, like ripples in a pond. In my fascination, pain faded out of recognition, and my senses cleared. My soul was no longer a seed, but a smooth disc as thin as a hair. I noticed the waves were accompanied by a rhythmic tapping sound, like water dripping from a faucet. Honing my senses, I could feel that a thin veil of liquid covered the disc. Each drop pushed out a faint ring which spread into a fine mist, soaking through my body.

A pulse of pain snapped me back to reality. Sure, I needed rest, but whatever was happening to my soul intrigued me. The liquid must have been my Qi, and I needed to create a container to capture it. Concentrating on my hands, I could feel some Qi leaking into the air. I didn't need all this Qi: finishing forming the bottle was of paramount importance.

Lying in my cot, I looked out of the window at the blurred sky. I couldn't wait for my eyesight to improve and my muscles to develop, so I could explore the world. Resting on that vein of thought, a question surfaced. This Soul Becoming World Technique, what was its ultimate use? This was a cultivation world, so there had to be many more Techniques, teaching me to fly or take control of the elements.

So, what was this Technique? What did Soul Becoming World even mean? Would this Technique teach me to fight? I revisited the vision of the book to check, but found it glued shut. I tried to look at the side to gauge its length, but that sucked me out of the vision. Could I not know anything more than this Technique let me? Was I really treading my own path of cultivation, or just blindly following someone else's?