“Thoughts when they overlap, create confusion, and sometimes utter chaos. it is then that we need to take time to separate these entangled strings and put them at peace. For this, we sometimes need great men.”
My teacher told me that empty vessels make more noise. But, what if the vessel is full and yet makes a cacophony? I have met strange copper vessels like these. They are not like vessels filled with popcorn and therefore full yet empty in weight, but they had genuine weight. I have seen a huge pot filled with precious material, yet very noisy. Probably, I thought, when the divine Father shaped each beautiful vessel of His, in each he put varying quantities, and this particular vessel might have been granted with good storage capacity and also rich material to keep in store. But my prime concern was, how could a full vessel make loud noise? I decided to investigate. Before I went to bed, I slipped into the great Potter’s home, situated at the sixth down the lane.
As I started from my confused little home at #1, my neighbors below at houses #2, #3, #4 and #5 stared out of their sockets, enlarged their nostrils angrily at me, barked loudly and in the most suspicious tone asked me thus: “Hey little monkey! Where are you stealing away at this midnight hour?” I told them all that I was off to Mr. Potters at #6. They grinned, guffawed and finally retired. Upon reaching my destination, the artist was rendering His final artistic touches to the pots in different hues, making them look bright and beautiful. I stood at the door wondering at His masterpiece and waited patiently until he finally was satisfied with His creation, and with a beaming smile admired it.
He spotted me at the door and lovingly beckoned me in. I admire his neat little home painted inside in red and blue and the floor tiled with beautiful pink. I nestled in His loving big arms and asked Him: “Father, among these myriad pots before us, do all perform their functions as faithful dogs do unto their masters?” He patted my head and chuckled at my innocent query. He then told me that “It would indeed be great if it were so. But sadly, some pots crack up with just a little exposure to heat, some others, in hands which are just a bit flimsy, immediately fall down to crash. But there are also some good and strong pots which do not break at any cost and are thus, strong at heart. Such pots of strength and value are however rare.” I then questioned “Father, this is only the physical aspect. What about the material you fill in these pots and thus send them with? Do these pots with more content be humble or do these pots with little stuffing be proud of what little they are given?” The Divine Potter patiently replied “Child, there are but few who question on such subtle grounds as you do. But, most unfortunately, even those who are filled with my precious gifts make a lot of noise about it due to their pride. This is the reason why these pots break up easily on exposure to just a little heat.” I then realized that those proud pots cracked open when they were not praised or when their follies were discussed by people. As I reflected thus, the Maker asked me if I was wondering at the necessary remedial mending of the crack in the proud pots, which are exposed to a little trouble. Amused at the eagerness in my face for the Maker’s reply, He spoke profound words “It is not for nothing, child, that I send these pots out into the ‘big market’.
It is to expose them to all climes and natures of the holders. If, as you expressed, they are a bit proud of their finery and rich content, I send them into the hands of critical men who observe not only its richness but also its faults. In this way, finally each pot I create and send out into the world, is finally refined like crude gold to pure fine gold under fiery fire.” I beamed with satisfaction and joy as the Divine Maker struck my chord right with His reply to my nagging query. I then once again admired His pots and wondered which of them would fall into which category, and thus slowly retired up to my little home at #1 which greeted me with the usual nameplate outside ‘The Mad Monkey’s Confused Home’. But now, after I came from the fist sized little neat Home of Mr. Potters, where there was always pumping and contraction and expansion done, my home is now at peace.
By: Sai Archana Murthy