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The
Half-Empty. Half-Full Bowl Syndrome
An elderwoman had two
large rawhide bowls, each hung on the end of a pole which she carried
across her shoulders each day to the stream to get water. One of the
bowls had a tear in it, while the other was perfect.
At
the end of the long trek back to the lodge, the torn bowl would
arrive half empty. This went on for four turns of the seasons, and
the perfect bowl was always proud of his accomplishment. However,
the torn bowl felt miserable. "I am ashamed of myself,” he
said. “I am a failure – this tear in my side lets water leak out
all the way back to the lodge."
The woman looked over to
him, laid her hand upon his imperfect,
water-stained surface, and
smiled. "Did you notice that there are herbs and flowers on your
side of the trail,” she said to him, “and six-leggeds and
four-leggeds and wingeds frolicking in the foliage, but not on the
other side of the trail? That's because I have always carried you on
the left – my gifting side, as it is closest to my heart. As we
walked, you would water the trail’s edge. Rather than seeing you as
flawed and arriving half empty day after day and being disappointed,
I saw you as half full and overflowing with generosity. You opened to
your circle of relations, sharing your gift with the Mother and the
plant people. At the same time, in the way that giving is receiving,
you have made room within yourself for the beauty andnourishment that
has come from your gifting. And not only you, but the perfect pot,
and me, and so many others we cannot know, have been ever bathed in
your blessing way.”
If you hear a voice within you
say "You cannot paint," then by all means paint and that
voice will be silenced.
-- Vincent Van Gogh
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