The Cracked pan: A Story For Anyone Who's Not Quite Perfect
Categories // Parables and Stories
A waterbearer in India had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole, which she carried across her neck.
One of the pots had a crack in it. While the other pan was perfect, and always delivered a full portion of water at the end of the long walk from the stream to the mistress's house, the cracked pan arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to her master's house.
The perfect pan was proud of its accomplishments, perfect to the end for which it was made. But the poor cracked pan 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?"
"I 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 mistress'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 pan said.
The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pan, and in her compassion she said, "As we return to the mistress's house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path."
Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pan 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 pan, "Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of the path, but not on the other pan's side?
“That's because I 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 mistress's table. Without you being just the way you are, she would not have this beauty to grace her house."
Moral: Each of us has our own unique flaws. We're all cracked pots.
But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding. We've just got to take each person for what they are, and look for the good in them.
There's a lot of good out there.
I can relate to you, definitely, as this issue has plagued my existence for a long time. It gets bad and I understand how hard it is, I'm struggling to deal with it right now in fact, but try to stay busy. Look for something, anything, you are interested in and be passionate about it. Music, games, movies, sports, exercise, message boards or anything else that comes to mind that you enjoy doing. Of course that is much easier said than done but if you have a hobby or something productive to occupy your time, your interests may draw other people to you. From what I know of it, being alone sucks but thinking about it all day just makes it worse.
Things are worse in your head than they are in reality. I've been repeating that to myself all day. Everytime I get stuck on a defeating thought or feel like I can't do one more thing. "Things are worse in your in head than they are in reality." It hasn't relieved the fatigue or made me happy, but it's helped me get through the day a little. Telling myself this helped me leave the house to pick up my scripts when I was feeling too anxious. It may even have lessened my self-hatred. Because it's true- things ARE worse in our heads than they are in reality. This is in no way intended to minimize the very real circumstances some people are suffering from. But I hope everyone can apply it in some way to help negate a faulty perception depression has created or enhanced. Look in the mirror and tell it to that person you may hate. Remember a time, any time no matter how brief, when you felt okay about yourself and remember that's the real you. The reality not clouded by the lies of depression. It's hard to believe, but it's true.