The cracked pot.
Member
Thread Starter
Join Date: Jul 2004
Location: Starting over all over again
Posts: 4,426
The cracked pot.
This little gem has been floating around the recovery rooms forever. It really works for me as I felt exactly like the cracked pot before I got into recovery. Here's the story.
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The cracked pot.
Once there was a pot that had a big, long crack down the side. The farmer who owned the pot would hang it from one end of a stick, and hang a pot without a crack from the other end. First thing in the morning the farmer would throw the stick with the pots on his shoulder and go down to the creek to fetch water. On the way back from the creek, the cracked pot would leak all it's water and arrive empty at the farmhouse. The farmer would put down the cracked pot by the doorway, and take the full pot into the house.
All day the cracked pot would sit outside, deeply humiliated that it was cracked. Unworthy of being in the farmers' house as it had leaked it's water and had none left to share with the farmers' family.
One day, the cracked pot could stand it no longer and begged the farmer to end its humiliation and break it. The cracked pot could no longer live as a flawed, useless pot.
The farmer gently picked up the cracked pot and quietly asked it why ever it was unhappy.
All my life, said the cracked pot, I have been unable to bring water to your house. I am so unworthy that you do not even take me inside your house. I am flawed, and do not deserve to live in your farm.
The farmer smiled, carefully brushing off a little bit of dust from the pot. My dear pot, said the farmer, I have fields to tend, chickens to feed, fences to mend, cows to milk, and all before sundown. I have so little time left for beauty. I carry you with me every morning to the creek so that on the way back you will water the trail to my house. Why do you think there are so many flowers, in so many colors, along the trail? I depend on you to bring beauty to my house. Without you I would not have flowers every morning to bring to my wife.
The cracked pot was stunned, in its misery it had never bothered to look at the trail and notice that it was on fire with all manner of exuberant flowers.
Your crack is not a flaw, assured the farmer, I needed a helper to water my flowers. You see yourself as unworthy, but I see you as essential. My flowers, they see you as gentle caretaker and giver of life. I leave you outside that you may enjoy the sight of this trail, which you have made beautiful, and the caress of the sun. You are not a cracked pot, you are a watering pot. That is not a flaw that leaks water. I _made_ you this way on purpose, because I needed you.
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Mike
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The cracked pot.
Once there was a pot that had a big, long crack down the side. The farmer who owned the pot would hang it from one end of a stick, and hang a pot without a crack from the other end. First thing in the morning the farmer would throw the stick with the pots on his shoulder and go down to the creek to fetch water. On the way back from the creek, the cracked pot would leak all it's water and arrive empty at the farmhouse. The farmer would put down the cracked pot by the doorway, and take the full pot into the house.
All day the cracked pot would sit outside, deeply humiliated that it was cracked. Unworthy of being in the farmers' house as it had leaked it's water and had none left to share with the farmers' family.
One day, the cracked pot could stand it no longer and begged the farmer to end its humiliation and break it. The cracked pot could no longer live as a flawed, useless pot.
The farmer gently picked up the cracked pot and quietly asked it why ever it was unhappy.
All my life, said the cracked pot, I have been unable to bring water to your house. I am so unworthy that you do not even take me inside your house. I am flawed, and do not deserve to live in your farm.
The farmer smiled, carefully brushing off a little bit of dust from the pot. My dear pot, said the farmer, I have fields to tend, chickens to feed, fences to mend, cows to milk, and all before sundown. I have so little time left for beauty. I carry you with me every morning to the creek so that on the way back you will water the trail to my house. Why do you think there are so many flowers, in so many colors, along the trail? I depend on you to bring beauty to my house. Without you I would not have flowers every morning to bring to my wife.
The cracked pot was stunned, in its misery it had never bothered to look at the trail and notice that it was on fire with all manner of exuberant flowers.
Your crack is not a flaw, assured the farmer, I needed a helper to water my flowers. You see yourself as unworthy, but I see you as essential. My flowers, they see you as gentle caretaker and giver of life. I leave you outside that you may enjoy the sight of this trail, which you have made beautiful, and the caress of the sun. You are not a cracked pot, you are a watering pot. That is not a flaw that leaks water. I _made_ you this way on purpose, because I needed you.
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Mike
Member
Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Stumbling toward happiness
Posts: 4,706
Mike,
Thanks so much for this beautiful post.
Heaven knows, we have all done our share of watering the path....sometimes I've felt more than just cracked, more like just a shard of a pot, I've been so broken. But it's great to be reminded that we are part of a great process of learning and growing that's always going on. Just the other day, I had someone tell me that watching MY struggles years ago helped THEM figure out how to handle a part of their own life....just a flower I left behind long ago, I guess.
Love,
GL
Thanks so much for this beautiful post.
Heaven knows, we have all done our share of watering the path....sometimes I've felt more than just cracked, more like just a shard of a pot, I've been so broken. But it's great to be reminded that we are part of a great process of learning and growing that's always going on. Just the other day, I had someone tell me that watching MY struggles years ago helped THEM figure out how to handle a part of their own life....just a flower I left behind long ago, I guess.
Love,
GL
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