“We shape clay into a pot,
but it is the emptiness inside
that holds whatever we want.”
– Lao Tzu
The Potter, a man in his forties,
sat there on the wooden, tall stool
by a table
with a shapeless lump of clay.
Smiling.
He had a few kids and their parents as his audience.
Wide-eyed kids.
I’ve-seen-it-all-eyed parents.
Deep inside,
the parents wanted to mould the clay as much as their kids.
But
being elder to the kids, they appeared to show more restraint
and even scolded the kids for their impatience.
Potter smiled.
While his fingers and palm
moved around the wet clay,
and the people thought of how relaxed the man was,
his legs were tirelessly working.
Pushing the heavy flywheel
under the table
that held the platform
that rotated
the clay…
I wondered
how many kids must have seen the hard work
of the legs
that is needed for a clay pot?
Potter continued to smile.
Perhaps he could listen to everyone’s thoughts…
MyRefractions 