Today I would like to tell you all an inspiring and satisfyingly good tale about why good self esteem is so important for us all. Our sense of worth creates a deep well inside each of us that ripples gently out into the wider world and affects more than you will ever know.
Are you sitting comfortably, dear steemies? Then I will begin...
Once upon a time there lived an old man, sadly I do not know this man's name for it has been long lost in the mists of time. Every day this man had to carry water from the river many miles to the remote village where he lived.
He carried the water in two earthern ware pots attached to the ends of a long pole which he balanced across his shoulders just below his neck.
Over many years of faithful service one of the pots had developed a small crack, so when the old man returned to the village, this pot would arrive half full. The other pot remained intact and always delivered a full load of water at the end of his long daily walk.
For two or three years this happened every day, and every time the old man delivered only one and a half pots of water at the end of his labours.
This being a magical tale full of mystery and enchantment, the pots were gifted with the ability to talk...they were in fact sentient pots! The first pot, who always held a full load of water, was naturally proud of it's achievements. But the pot with the crack was ashamed of it's inability to carry no more than half a load of water each day.
As you might imagine it became a very miserable pot, ashamed of it's imperfection, regarding the crack as ugly and flawed, it felt inadequate since it could not perform as it was supposed to. Even to the point of doubting it's own worth and feeling itself to be valueless because it could not do the job it had been created to do.
Poor pot! Every day weeping, and seeping it's load of water, spilling it's shame upon the dusty road.
One day stung by the bitterness of it's own failures, the pot plucked up the courage to speak to the old man as he filled it by the river.
"Old man," he cried "I am so ashamed of myself. Because of this crack in my side I am unable to carry a full load of water back to your house. I am useless, unworthy and so sad that I leak all the way back to the village and I am no longer useful to you." And if, instead of having a clay body it had had a head, the poor pot would have hung it's sorry head in shame.
The old man stopped filling the perfect pot and sat silently watching the water as it meandered down stream for a moment or two before he replied.
"Little pot," he said smiling, "Do you see anything on the road as we walk along it every day?"
The pot thought for a moment, and would have scratched it's clay head, if it had had arms and hands...or a head!
"Yes, I believe I see sky, and fields and the dusty road and the many fragrant flowers that bloom beside it."
The old man smiled once again.
"Did you notice that the flowers were growing on YOUR side of the road only?" he asked.
Brightening up a little, although how you can tell when a pot brightens up I do not know, the pot replied,
"Why yes, how is it possible these flowers only grow on my side of the road?"
"Well," said the old man gently, "I noticed this flaw, this crack in your side a long time ago and so I sowed some flower seeds along the roadside so you could water them every day on the way back home. Every day we are blessed with their beauty and scent, and when I pick them they brighten our home and fill it with their sweet fragrance. Without your flaw this would not have been possible, so perhaps now you can see that you have more value than you realised?
"I do!" cried the pot, relieved of it's former burdens of shame and inadequacy and beginning to shine with joy in a most unpot like way.
And so the pots, both the perfect and imperfect, together with the old man began their daily journey again, but now the little pot was consciously dripping the precious water onto the flowers and, as it blessed each and every bloom, it would never doubt it's value or worth again. And so they all lived bloomingly, happily ever after.
POSTSCRIPT - Why this is dedicated to all my friends and fellow CRACKPOTS!
It is said that this is tale gave us the origin of the often derisory label "crackpot" which usually refers to someone who is eccentric or foolish. It is used by the media along with derogatory terms like tin hat wearing conspiracy nut, or anarchist or more politely researcher and "dot connector."
To any and all steemit crackpots out there...keep on keeping on, drip by drip, we are watering more than we can see, more than we know and eventually the seeds we sow (and nourish) WILL grow strong and tall and proud. Never give up, or give in, never doubt your worth, and never be afraid of your flaws. They are, after all, often what makes us unique, and ultimately this is what turns our perceived vulnerabilities into great strengths!
I will leave the master mystic poet Rumi the last words...
PICTURE CREDITS & SOURCES;
This story is found in various traditions around the world, but originates in both the far and middle East...from Buddhist to Chinese, Indian and Arabian stories all feature various reworkings of this perennial parable.
Cartoon Collage by Enrique Carlos
Cartoon image; www.saispoorthi.org
Path through Poppies Photo by Leigh Rebecca
Rumi picture quote; VitalSource.net