zahidi on sat 20 feb 99
The Cracked Pot
A water bearer in India had two large pots. Each hung on
opposite ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the
pots had a crack in it, and while the other pot was perfect and always
delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the
stream to the master's house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only
one and a half pots full of water in his master's house.
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments,
perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was
ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to
accomplish only half of what it had been made to do. After two years of
what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer
one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself," it said, "and I want to
apologize to you."
"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"
"I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only
half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all
the way back to your master's house. Because of my flaws, you have to do
all of this work, and you don't get full value from your efforts," the
pot said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his
compassion he said, "As we return to the master's house, I want you to
notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took
notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the
path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still
felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again it
apologized to the bearer for its failure.
The bearer said to the pot, "Did you notice that there were
flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot's side?
That's because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage
of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day
while we walk back from the stream, you've watered them. For two years I
have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master's
table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this
beauty to grace his house."
Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots.
Very busy: watching the turtles sun themselves on logs in the swamp-
zahidi@gs.verio.net
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