Cracked pot
He got up from his cot and lay down next to his grandfather. Dev opened the way, but he did not speak.
Silently he caressed his grandfather, feeling the familiar warmth of the old man.
"I have shortcomings," he whispered silently, his body trembling with the force of the emotion that was now unleashing.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and were drenched with hunger by her grandfather's cotton shirt.
Love cleansed it, Dev knew, and the boy had to be taught a lesson to last him a lifetime.
Catharsis is never painless. But the sooner the treatment can be administered, the sooner recovery can begin.
Read also: The doctor and a sick child
When the violently violent body of the child had finally stabilized in infrequent spasms, Dev turned toward him.
His warm and compassionate hand extended to straighten his grandson's hair.
"A water bearer," he said, "had two large pots, each hanging from the ends of a pole that he carried across his neck, as he walked a long walk from the stream to his house every day."
"One of the pots had a crack, so every day the broken pot came home half full, the other pot was perfect, and it always delivered a full serving of water."
"For a long time, this happened daily, with the carrier delivering only one and a half full pots of water to his house."
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its achievements, perfect for the one that was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfections, and miserable of being able to achieve only half of what it had been designed to do. "
"After years of shame and guilt, and of what he perceived as a bitter failure, the cracked pot finally gathered the courage to confess his deficiencies to the water carrier."
"I'm ashamed of myself," he said, "and I want to apologize to you, I've been able to deliver only half of my burden because a crack in my side causes the water to seep all the way back to your house."
"Did you notice," replied the carrier, "that there were only flowers on your side of the road, but not on the perfect side of the pot?"
"I've always known about your failure, so I planted flower seeds on their side of the road, and every day, as we walked back to the house from the stream, you watered them for me."
"For years, I could choose these beautiful flowers to decorate my house, without you being as you are, there would be no beauty to decorate my house!"
"The moral of the story is that we all have our faults - no one is perfect! Each one of us has our own unique flaws - we are all broken pots, but we can still be useful in our own way."
"Triumph in spite of our imperfections leads to a full life, which is what greatness in us can highlight, because our greatest glory is never to fall, but to rise every time we fall."
They are the cracks, the faults, the faults that we all have, that make our lives together very interesting and rewarding. Yes, we have to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them. "
"Is strength lies in weakness?" Rosh was trying to understand. "Are not you just giving hope to a loser to make him feel good about himself?"
"No," Dev replied, "a good builder works with all kinds of materials, wood and metal have different strengths and weaknesses, clay and cement are different, but there is a place for all of them when one is creating a home. "
"Everything serves a purpose, even our weaknesses and imperfections, what one can do, the other can not, so a good trader does not blame his tools, he just learns to make the best use of whatever he has."
"In fact!" Rosh thought as she watched the story. "Without the compassion of the water bearer, his observation of the weakness of marijuana, and without her putting it to good use, I would not be picking flowers at all!"
"But if I had not had the foresight and the intelligence to plant flower seeds along the way, the broken pot would still have watered something." What? Weeds, maybe?
"These could still have benefited the insects and our herbivorous friends." Therefore, weakness could still be strength really. Blessings for all of us nuts! But how do I learn to see things that way?
I prefer to be a perfect pot? Rosh wondered, not realizing that her grandfather by her side was already fast asleep and snored heavily, or a cracked pot that strives to be useful?
"None!" He concluded. 'The pots are what they are. They have no choice in the matter. I am who I am, perfect or imperfect, and I have no other choice in the matter of my being. "
"But I can still choose to become, I would like to be the water carrier, the one who knew how to make even a cracked pot lead a full and useful life."
'A compassionate and attentive person. Intelligent! Not wasting anything. It's not my talent, it's not my imperfections. Not even a drop of water! "
Silently he caressed his grandfather, feeling the familiar warmth of the old man.
"I have shortcomings," he whispered silently, his body trembling with the force of the emotion that was now unleashing.
Tears rolled down her cheeks and were drenched with hunger by her grandfather's cotton shirt.
Love cleansed it, Dev knew, and the boy had to be taught a lesson to last him a lifetime.
Catharsis is never painless. But the sooner the treatment can be administered, the sooner recovery can begin.
Read also: The doctor and a sick child
When the violently violent body of the child had finally stabilized in infrequent spasms, Dev turned toward him.
His warm and compassionate hand extended to straighten his grandson's hair.
"A water bearer," he said, "had two large pots, each hanging from the ends of a pole that he carried across his neck, as he walked a long walk from the stream to his house every day."
"One of the pots had a crack, so every day the broken pot came home half full, the other pot was perfect, and it always delivered a full serving of water."
"For a long time, this happened daily, with the carrier delivering only one and a half full pots of water to his house."
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its achievements, perfect for the one that was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfections, and miserable of being able to achieve only half of what it had been designed to do. "
"After years of shame and guilt, and of what he perceived as a bitter failure, the cracked pot finally gathered the courage to confess his deficiencies to the water carrier."
"I'm ashamed of myself," he said, "and I want to apologize to you, I've been able to deliver only half of my burden because a crack in my side causes the water to seep all the way back to your house."
"Did you notice," replied the carrier, "that there were only flowers on your side of the road, but not on the perfect side of the pot?"
"I've always known about your failure, so I planted flower seeds on their side of the road, and every day, as we walked back to the house from the stream, you watered them for me."
"For years, I could choose these beautiful flowers to decorate my house, without you being as you are, there would be no beauty to decorate my house!"
"The moral of the story is that we all have our faults - no one is perfect! Each one of us has our own unique flaws - we are all broken pots, but we can still be useful in our own way."
"Triumph in spite of our imperfections leads to a full life, which is what greatness in us can highlight, because our greatest glory is never to fall, but to rise every time we fall."
They are the cracks, the faults, the faults that we all have, that make our lives together very interesting and rewarding. Yes, we have to take each person for what they are and look for the good in them. "
"Is strength lies in weakness?" Rosh was trying to understand. "Are not you just giving hope to a loser to make him feel good about himself?"
"No," Dev replied, "a good builder works with all kinds of materials, wood and metal have different strengths and weaknesses, clay and cement are different, but there is a place for all of them when one is creating a home. "
"Everything serves a purpose, even our weaknesses and imperfections, what one can do, the other can not, so a good trader does not blame his tools, he just learns to make the best use of whatever he has."
"In fact!" Rosh thought as she watched the story. "Without the compassion of the water bearer, his observation of the weakness of marijuana, and without her putting it to good use, I would not be picking flowers at all!"
"But if I had not had the foresight and the intelligence to plant flower seeds along the way, the broken pot would still have watered something." What? Weeds, maybe?
"These could still have benefited the insects and our herbivorous friends." Therefore, weakness could still be strength really. Blessings for all of us nuts! But how do I learn to see things that way?
I prefer to be a perfect pot? Rosh wondered, not realizing that her grandfather by her side was already fast asleep and snored heavily, or a cracked pot that strives to be useful?
"None!" He concluded. 'The pots are what they are. They have no choice in the matter. I am who I am, perfect or imperfect, and I have no other choice in the matter of my being. "
"But I can still choose to become, I would like to be the water carrier, the one who knew how to make even a cracked pot lead a full and useful life."
'A compassionate and attentive person. Intelligent! Not wasting anything. It's not my talent, it's not my imperfections. Not even a drop of water! "
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