Just as the shape of a leaf is determined by the absent spaces, maybe the missing bits and the misfortunes of our lives are actually the blessings that make us the wonderful and peculiar people that we are. (Author unknown)
Once upon a time there was a water-bearer who carried two large pots on a yoke across his shoulders up the hill from the river to his master’s house each day. One had a crack and leaked half its water out each day before arriving at the house. The other pot was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water after the long walk from the river.
Finally, after years of arriving half-empty and feeling guilty, the cracked pot apologized to the water-bearer. It was miserable.
“I’m sorry that I couldn’t accomplish what the perfect pot did.”
The water-bearer said, “What do you have to apologize for?”
“After all this time, I still deliver only half my load of water. I make more work for you because of my flaw.”
The man smiled and told the pot, “Take note of all the beautiful flowers growing on the side of the path where I carried you. The flowers grew so lovely because of the water you leaked. There are no flowers on the perfect pot’s side.”
Many times as I sat with a client in deep pain, I felt like the cracked pot, bombarded by a sense of inadequacy and helplessness in the face of the pain and suffering in the world. Added to that was the inevitable experience of being human myself, with all of my own personal issues, my “cracks.” How could I claim to be a helper, let alone a healer? How could I give support or encouragement or share out of any personal wisdom I had when I was so aware of my own shortcomings?
What I came to find over time was that all of us are wounded, some more grievously than others. And it can be that out of our deepest pain can come our deepest compassion, empathy, and wisdom, and the capacity to give what we have into the world.
Ring the bells that still can ring, Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the Light gets in. (Leonard Cohen)
