8
A pot with a hairline crack begged not to be fired; it was sure the world would laugh.
The potter turned the clay in her hands and said, “Beauty does not always mean holding everything.” She fired the pot anyway and used it to carry water from the well along a path she’d seeded with wildflower seeds months before. Days later the crack wept a thin thread of water that fed the dust. When the pot trembled at the market, the potter pointed to a sudden line of color blooming by the path—yellow, blue, and stubborn green. “You were busy watering,” she smiled. The pot learned that some vessels serve by spilling.
