The story of the lazy potter and the mute sage

potter's handsThere was once a potter who lived in a village forgotten by the world. His dream was to reach the great Citadel, where he could have his own shop of vessels, pots and ceramic objects. But his chances were small, because the potter was very lazy and worked only to ensure his daily living.

One day the potter met a traveler who told him that in a neighboring village lives in a hut a wise man who can give you any answer. What was strange about him was that he never got out of the hut and didn’t even talk. The one who wanted to ask him a question had to knock on the door and then open a narrow shutter through which only the eyes of the mute sage could be seen in the semi-darkness inside. Then he had to ask him a question, and the wise man would answer from his eyes, the man could read the answer in their expression.

Hearing this, the potter immediately runs to the neighboring village, to the hut in question. Knock gently, then pull the shutter off the door. Through the narrow slit, he could hardly see some eyes looking at him from the darkness.
He asked the insatiable question, “How can I come to prosper in the great City?” and then he looked carefully at the expression of the one inside.
And he saw some bored eyes.” careless, totally indifferent.
At that moment he realized that this was the case with his job, lazy and uncaring!
He said to himself: “So far I have stood and waited for the ideal chance, to hit me out of the blue. But the answer is very simple, I have to work harder to get closer to my goal!”
“How many people make the same mistake?” he asked. “Everywhere I see people complaining about the lack of chance instead of putting their hand up and doing something.”

In the following months he began to model pots and pitchers day by day, which he sold in nearby villages, and the results were not late to appear. He was already earning well, and a large part of the money he put aside to afford to move to the Citadel. However, he realized that it was not enough and at this rate it would have taken him years. And on top of that, at the end of the day he didn’t feel fulfilled by his work.

So he walked back to the hut of the mute, thinking eagerly about the reunion. The hut looked the same, in desolation, you could swear that no one lived there. He knocked on the door according to custom, then pulled the shutter and asked the question fervently: “How can I sell more to allow me to go to the great City?”
The eyes inside were sad, tired, devoid of light. “The gaze of a lonely man, isolated from the world,” he thought. And then he remembered his own loneliness, the fact that he had no friends and always avoided his relatives. Because he was afraid of asking him for money or other help.

The next day he went to the fair with one thought: to sell so many pots that he could help all his relatives, old friends and even neighbors with whom he did not get along very well. All his acquaintances were poor people who barely made it from one day to the next.
After a month, he sold and earned almost 2 times more and not only had he helped many people with money and food, but he was also left with an impressive amount. He earned so well that in a short time he managed to get a house in the great Citadel, where he always dreamed of reaching.

The fair was much larger in the Citadel. Here passed travelers who came from overseas and countries and who had their bags of money. The potter was doing very well and had made many friends, for he had kept his habit of helping people in need.
But it was still far from his goal. To open the shop he had dreamed of, where he would have apprentices and sellers to work for him, he needed much more. And he was already working from morning to night and selling almost everything he produced.

This time he couldn’t wait to get to the wise man’s hut again. And he had complete confidence that he would get his answer, as at the other times. Arriving in front of the hut, he was engulfed in a strange feeling. She was even more dilapidated, she looked downright deserted. “Would he have died?” he asked, and a shudder passed him by.
He knocked on the door with trembling hands and opened the narrow shutter. A sense of gratitude engulfed his heart as he saw his eyes again in the dark.
“I work from morning to night and sell everything I produce. But it’s still not enough to allow me to open my shop. What I would putea do it differently to earn more?” and he looks intently into the eyes of the mute sage.
The gaze in the darkness was this time vivid, fierce. The potter could read in it determination, but also the desperation of a man about to lose hope.
Then he thought about his life lately. On the one hand he was very pleased that he had moved to the Citadel and that he was prospering, but on the other hand he worked so hard that he could no longer relax and enjoy life.

The next morning he woke up much more rested, as if it was easier. He enjoyed his breakfast in the shade of the trees in the garden, thinking about how grateful he is for his life. It was only now that he realized how good it is to stop and from time to time to enjoy the little things, such as the aroma of tea or the smell of wildflowers.
Then he did something he hadn’t done for a very long time: he went straight to the fair, without shaping any pot. He would usually start the day by working hard, then run quickly in the afternoon to sell his creations.
He only took a few pitchers he made earlier. They were the most beautiful, he kept them in his home to delight his eyes.

In the morning, the people in the borough were different. There were other flies, travelers coming from elsewhere. Among them, the potter notices a special character, dressed in expensive clothes. He had noble traits, and from his gait it was seen that he was a strong and determined man.
The man stopped right in front of the potter and began to carefully study the painstakingly crafted pitchers.
“I have never seen such skill anywhere,” he said. “What would you say to work ceramics for the Royal Court? You would have paid five times as much as an ordinary potter earns.

Our potter no longer fit in his skin for joy. to produce for the royal faces! With the money he earned he could open his shop in a few months! And all this just because he decided that day to relax and be open to something new!

The first thing he thought of after this incident was to thank the mute sage. She had helped him so much and hadn’t even gotten to see him completely in the face! She wanted to hold him in her arms and tell him how much their meetings mattered.”
Arriving at the hut, knocking on the door and then opening the shutter. The eyes inside shone with joy like never before.
“Great wise man, I know you are more withdrawn of your kind, but I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart and tell you how much you helped me!” said the potter.
Then opened the door and remained buried. Inside, beyond the door, there was just a mirror…



source: internet


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