In the last few days I have received privately some immense gifts. Gifts
of understanding from fellow learners. So especially this morning as a
result of these coincidences I would like to share the following. I hope
it helps anyone, I only know it helped me.
Maybe we may share stories, like this one sent to me by a virtual stranger
last year when I wrestled with the same question? And if we can grow the
flowers so real within our imaginations, maybe the seeds can get collected
and maybe they can get replanted in some dark rich soil and the visions
get to grow into new realities that exclaim the idea that no-one owns
knowledge, truth, love, beauty, life, and that we are, in our essence the
water not just the pot, and like the water in any stream we might reflect
both the sun and the moon by turns and never want to keep hold of either,
so speckled into the eye of some attended and attending beholding other,
who might him or herself wander off and tell some-other-one or many a
story of a watercourse in some place that flows uphill, and has both the
sun and the moon eternally within it, never holding but always reflecting,
all the while reflecting.
Maybe, just maybe.
A Story from Phil, returned in love.
A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on each end of a
pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it.
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 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, and I
want to apologize to you."
"Why?" asked the bearer. "What are you ashamed of?"
"You 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've 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."
Of course I like to remind myself that the 'master' is not some remote
'boss' and the table is the 'whole' world, if we wish it- and not some
'bosses' dinner table.
Best wishes,
Andrew Campbell
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