Treasures Of Heaven And Earth

Possible Trigger Warning: Some general discussion about PTSD in this chapter at the very end as Chún and the Mountain start discussing Dao as it relates to memory - and the ability to have the past affect the present. Should be ok to skip without missing any major plot points if necessary.

---

The next day dawned bright and clear. Feeling a little stiff from all the bending, digging and lifting of the previous day Chún went through his Monkey Movement Dao practice in the trees around the clearing for about a shi, not forgetting some ground practice, then took a half-shi to weave himself a temporary basket out of some tough old vine fibres, along with another temporary loincloth before heading for the creek to the clay deposits he had scouted out yesterday, munching on a Heaven and Earth Vine fruit while talking to his locus.

"So my initial idea is just to do a regular pot like the potter in the village does. Really simple. Dry it, fire it. Both of us watch how the clay changes to ceramic. Then, once we know how it normally works we can experiment in adding Essence."

Splashing across the creek to the far bank that had a small gouge carved out exposing some ordinary - well as ordinary as possible, everything on the Mountain was showing a much higher level of essence since it had been been closed off into its own pocket world - clay, he started to dig it out with a heavy stick into the temporary basket.

"The big problem I see," he said between blows at the clay, releasing chunks from the bank which tumbled down into the basket, "is that I remember when I was hauling clay, water and firewood for the potter, he was always cursing at his apprentices for having too much water in the clay; or heating the clay too fast, then the water would make steam and crack the clay."

"And you want to keep the Water, Earth and Life Dao patterns in the pottery to keep the Essence herbs and plants you plant in them alive longer - which is directly opposite to what the firing needs to do - well for water at least," the Mountain replied thoughtfully, "That fits with what I have observed."

Chún halted his digging in puzzlement. "You observed?"

There was a sensation of shrugging. "I am part of the land - even now, there is still a connection to the original physical mountain site on Golden Crow Planet. Whatever touches the land it sees, I see. And Remember. "

Chún hummed in thought as he started scooping clay chunks into the basket. "Any chance someone has already tried this?"

There was a sense of amus.e.m.e.nt and fascination. "Never."

"Seriously? Why not?"

"Most people who can see Essence patterns and work with them with the ease you do are World level or above Consumers or advanced True Cultivators. None of those people ever wanted to make their own cups, bowls or pots - let alone want to make them sustain living plants."

Chún stopped, scratching his head. "Oh. Is it a stupid idea?"

"I think it has great potential. If you learn it with pottery, where else can you apply it? Forging, weaving, construction, painting…"

He frowned, picking up the full basket and balancing it on his left shoulder. Noticing a large, flat river stone in the water by his feet, he bent down and picked it up, then splashed back across the creek. "Do not Consumers have all those things? I mean, I know the BlackSmith in the village can Essence Forge, he used to brag about it enough."

His locus snorted. "If you call applying Essence as fuel to drive a forge fire and rudimentary inscribing, then yes, they have something they call Essence Forging. Your idea is more about working with the natural Dao patterns of the materials to retain useful attributes - very different."

He walked back to his kiln from the creek, "Same old argument about forcing versus supporting what is already present, I see," he replied as he dropped the rock next to the remains of the small fire in front of the now completely dry mud construct. Putting the basket of clay down beside it, he picked up the shovel and dug another shallow hole near his mud pit.

Grabbing the basket, he dumped the clay into the new hole, crushing any obvious over large lumps, and tossing any hard pebbles or rocks out. Then he pulled water from the stream with Essence manipulation and wet the clay in the hole down, which let him crush the clay down into a solid mass with his hands.

There was something ther.a.p.eutic about working directly with his hands instead of Essence. Over the next shi, he squished the clay with his hands and breathed in the cool, rich smelling air, thick with Essence. The odd bird twittered over the gurgling song of the creek and a strange sort of tension sort of eased out of him.

He supposed that he had been sort of pushing forward like a slave lately, not even noticing the incredible beauty of the paradise that was now his home. As he tasted the smells of the forest, growing things and moisture, at the back of his sinus he wondered how long he had been going about blindly like this.

"Since about that 'failure' with the leaf," the now familiar resonate tenor came down the link.

Nodding, he sat cross-legged, grabbing the flat stone and placing it in front of himself as a work surface.

Normally, at this point the potter would add crushed up old pottery or failed firings into the clay to help stop cracking - like a baker kneading flour into a dough - but Chún did not have any of that yet. It was another reason he wanted to do a 'regular' firing attempt first - besides watching what happened inside the kiln, he fully expected it to fail, giving him some 'old' pottery to add to his next attempts.

For another shi he just kneaded handfuls of clay together trying to get a dough-like consistency, making sure to get rid of any dry lumps. Without the pottery powder to be added, it was not quite what he remembered from the potter's, but he understood why, so it did not bother him so much.

Once that was done, he put the clay back into the basket and picked it up along with his flat rock - going back to the fire-pit in the clearing, as he needed to dry the clay out a bit.

Chún set the basket down and placed the rock on the edge of the fire pit next to the hot embers and ash, sending a query to his locus, "Mountain, can you ask the Vine if it is OK for me to work with the clay here? I would prefer to use the fire pit to dry the pottery after I have finished working the clay."

A flash of agreement. "She says it is fine - clay and water is not a problem. Also - thank you for not putting the kiln in the clearing too. One supplementary source of Fire Essence is enough, she says."

Chún blushed, "I am sorry about the fire pit, your Highness."

The leaves and branches of the vine rustled and swayed. "She says 'do not do it again.'"

With permission given, he walked over to his woodpile, grabbed a pile of small deadwood and dropped it into the fire pit next to where he had placed the rock. The wood quickly came alight and once hot air was quickly flowing over the surface, he took the rough block of clay out of the basket and placed it on the rock.

Looking up at the sky, he decided it was time for lunch. All the physical effort made him hungry. He went over to the creak and washed his hands and torso as he did not feel like eating clay.

As he sat by the pit eating from his wok - he was using that instead of the old gourds now, although it felt ridiculous - he made a point of looking at the cool Essence-mist filled clearing, admiring the flickering Dao patterns and the beauty of the Heaven and Earth vine as it shimmered in and out of invisibility; listening to the water flowing in the stream, the breeze blowing - quietly he found himself in a light meditation, just watching Essence flow around and in and out of his body.

When he coasted gently out of his meditation, the food in the walk was cold, so he threw it into the fire-pit to be burnt up. He was not hungry anymore anyway and felt much more relaxed. He checked on at the clay block, poking with his fingers and was relieved to see he had not meditated too long - the clay had stiffened to just the right consistency.

Moving the clay away from the fire he pulled the rock in front of him and reached into the fire pit which was currently mostly ashes at the moment. He grabbed a handful of fine wood ash and dusted the surface of the stone. Then he grabbed a handful of clay from the rough block at his side and flattened it into a rough blob, then began pinching into a rough pot shape with his fingers.

Additional water from the stream kept the clay from drying out and the wood ash kept it from sticking to the rock. As he got the clay he was working with into the rough shape of a small cup or pot, he smoothed out the cracks with his fingers.

He made several pots which took him almost another shi. The Golden Crow was headed for its nest in a blaze of glorious color, as he placed the pots into the fire pit around the edges to dry out.

"As we suspected, the excess water is leaving the clay which is drawing the shapes tighter together. You have set yourself a difficult task."

Chún scratched his head, adding wood to the fire in the centre of the pit - around his stone stew pot - next to the clay pots around the edges without having them in direct contact.

He kept adding wood to make sure the flames were relatively constant, but his focus was on what his locus had said. "I was thinking about that. We can not add the patterns to the ceramic without destroying the way it forms. This is going to sound weird but, can we do what you did when you hid yourself?"

A sensation of surprise and confusion came from the Mountain. Chún laughed, "I do not wish to make the pots invisible. But - if I understand the explanation you and His Majesty were giving me - there is a 'false' ordinary Mountain out there which is still you, but most of you - the part with most of the patterns, the Dao and Essence is somewhere else?"

"Yes. That is a simplistic explanation, but essentially correct. But what does that have to do with…"

"The pots are made from very heavy Essence imbued materials… compared to say, a regular pot. So... just like you have an Ordinary Mountain with minimal Essence connected to a much more complex Mountain full of Essence… could we make these pots also have two selves? An ordinary ceramic self and a self which has Dao patterns of water and Earth and life in it still? The complex part could affect the ceramic part without destroying it… maybe?"

There was a beat of startled silence from the link.

"Let me get this… you want to make living pots to take care of Essence plants?"

Chún choked. "No… I mean, can they not have separate Dao selves without being like you? I just thought if we can have them be ceramic and yet still clay simultaneously..."

"Ceramic still remembers being clay, Chún," the Mountain explained gently. "It is already both… I see what you mean, but I think both the Ceramic and what you want would work better if you just asked the Ceramic to remember being clay - and feed the soil and plant that are put in it, without trying to convince the Ceramic to change its pattern."

Chún blinked. "It can do that?"

"Everything does it all the time. You call it memory."

Chún disagreed. "I cannot pull out things from my memory and make them real."

"People who have experienced traumatic events would disagree," the Mountain said dryly.

Chún froze. "Ah… yes, of course. You would think I would remember what happens to me on a regular basis. Still that is not exactly the same as actually going back to…" he stopped at the sense of disagreement from the locus. "Is this something I want to know?"

"Your body may stay here. Your Dao? It returns."

Chún shuddered. "I… I do not even want to… that is terrifying."

The Mountain shrugged, "Thus it is important to deal with and resolve past events that trouble you. Not just 'put them behind you'. Otherwise your Dao gets stuck there."

Chún shivered. "That explains a lot. And I really do not wish to discuss this anymore. I just need pots." He paused and shook himself and asked carefully, "So that means the pots could literally bring the old patterns of the clay back and affect the present contents without touching the current physical ceramic?"

"Simplistic, but again essentially correct," agreed the Mountain.

"Ok, we will try your suggestion. I do not have a better one." He sighed as the last light from the Crow vanished. "Looks like the firing will have to be tomorrow. It will take another shi for these pots to dry well. I do not wish to work with a kiln in the dark."

"Bath and dinner then?" suggested his locus.

"In the hotter half of the pool," nodded Chún as he set off towards his cave.