My Cuppa – not yet?’
“My cuppa – not yet?”
Anand – a teenager took a trip to Artisan village to shop in a beautiful antique store to celebrate his 16th birthday. He loved pottery, and especially teacups. Spotting an exceptional cup, he asked “May I see that? I’ve never seen a cup quite so beautiful.”
As the Artisan handed it to him, suddenly the teacup, looking at the admiring eyes of Anand spoke, “You don’t understand. I have not always been a teacup. There was a time when I was just a lump of red clay. My master took me and rolled me pounded and patted me over and over and I yelled out, ‘Don’t do that. I don’t like it! Let me alone.’ But he only smiled, and gently said; ‘Not yet!’” “Then. WHAM! I was placed on a spinning wheel and suddenly I was spun around and around and around. ‘Stop it! I’m getting so dizzy! I’m going to be sick,’ I screamed. But the master only nodded and said, quietly; ‘Not yet.’
“He spun me and poked and prodded and bent me out of shape to suit himself and then… Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I yelled and knocked and pounded at the door. Help! Get me out of here! I could see him through the opening and I could read his lips as he shook his head from side to side, ‘Not yet’.”
“When I thought I couldn’t bear it another minute, the door opened. He carefully took me out and put me on the shelf, and I began to cool. Oh, that felt so good! Ah, this is much better, I thought. But, after I cooled he picked me up and he brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible. I thought I would gag. ‘Oh, please; Stop it, Stop it!’ I cried. He only shook his head and said. ‘Not yet!’.”
“Then suddenly he put me back in to the oven. Only it was not like the first one. This was twice as hot and I just knew I would suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried. I was convinced I would never make it. I was ready to give up. Just then the door opened and he took me out and again placed me on the shelf, where I cooled and waited ——- and waited, wondering “What’s he going to do to me next? An hour later he handed me a mirror and said ‘Look at yourself.’” “And I did. I said, ‘That’s not me; that couldn’t be me. It’s Strong and beautiful. I’m Strong and beautiful! I even have your name signed on me!!’
Quietly he spoke: ‘I want you to remember, then,’ he said, ‘I know it hurt to be rolled and pounded and patted, but had I just left you alone, you’d have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled. I know it hurt and it was hot and disagreeable in the oven, but if I hadn’t put you there, you would have cracked. I know the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you all over, but if I hadn’t done that, you never would have hardened. You would not have had any color in your life. If I hadn’t put you back in that second oven, you wouldn’t have survived for long because the hardness would not have held.
I would never put you through anything which you cannot truly bear!
I would never put you through anything which you do not really need!
Now you are what I saw in you as a potential when I first met you.
Now you are strong and beautiful!
You are what you best can be!
By my name painted on you finally, the whole world would know you belong to me!!”
Dear spiritual brethren! A Master / Bhagavan knows what He’s doing for each of us. He is the potter, and we are His clay. He will mold us and make us, and expose us to just enough pressures of just the right kinds that we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill the pleasing and perfect will of Bhagavan. By ‘painting’ HIS name on our lips and mind, we truly belong only to Him.
