Flaws, Formality, and Fun

I am a storyteller…

Or I try to be.

Growing up with a father who pastored a small church in the central coast of California, I still remember the one thing that would actually make me pay attention on all those Sunday mornings.

It wasn’t that I sat in the front row all those years changing the slides for the projector during worship songs. (remember transparency projectors?)

It was the stories.

One story I remember to this day.

The Story of the Cracked Pot

There once lived a water carrier. Every morning, as soon as the sun rose, she walked from her home to collect water in two earthen pots that hung from a long pole that she carried across her shoulders. One pot was perfectly formed, the other, although the same shape and size as its counterpart, had a crack in its side. So, whenever they returned to the water carrier’s house it was only ever half full.

For years, the water carrier repeated her journey to and from her house collecting water from the river. As the years passed by, the cracked pot created a story in its head about its level of worthiness and inability to properly perform the job for which it had been created. Eventually, the pain and shame that it felt about its own perceived imperfections, became too much for it to bear. So, one day as the water carrier knelt beside the river and began her usual task of filling the pots with water, the cracked pot found its voice and said;

“I am so sorry. For years and years, I have watched you fill me with water and I can only imagine what a fruitless task it must be for you. As whenever we return to home, I am only ever half full. While in comparison, the other pot is perfect, rarely does it lose a drop of water on our long walk back to our home, but me, I am far from perfect. This crack in my side, not only does it cause me so much hurt and shame, but it must also cause you to want to get rid of me. Surely, I am only making this long, arduous job that you do each day, that much more difficult? I can understand if you are thinking of getting rid of me and replacing me with another perfectly formed pot.”

The water carrier listened to these words with both care and compassion. The cracked pot’s story of unworthiness and shame was not one that she recognised. For this was not what she thought of the pot. She knew about the crack, but did not see it as an imperfection, or as something that made it less worthy than the other pot that hung from her shoulder.

Gently she turned to the pot and said, “On our return walk home, I want you to look up and to the side of you. For too long, it would seem you have been looking down, comparing yourself to others and not noticing how you and the crack that you have in your side has brought untold beauty into my life”

Puzzled, the Cracked pot wondered what on-earth her words meant. She seemed to be suggesting that its story of lack, unworthiness and shame, was in some way faulty. As to how this could be, it could not comprehend.

However, the Cracked Pot trusted the water carrier. It occurred to it that in all the time that it had journeyed with her, she had never said a harsh word, never scorned or ridiculed it, but had always shown a sense of gratefulness and care when filling it with water.

So, on the return journey it heeded the water carrier’s words. It looked up and it looked out. In its former depressed state, it had not noticed that along the path that they travelled there was a dazzling array of beauty, colour and life. The water carrier in her wisdom, knowing of the crack in the pot’s side, had sprinkled seeds along the path. These seeds were duly watered every day as a result of the crack in the pot’s side and the path that had once been barren and devoid of life was now resplendent with an array of beautiful wild flowers.

Now, the cracked pot understood. Now the cracked pot began to see itself in a new light. Now it understood that indeed it had been telling itself a faulty story. If its experience of being a ‘cracked pot’ was going to change then it would have to change the story that it was telling itself.

---

As I write this and remember the story once again, I take away two things; one old and one new.

1. Stories have a way of whisking you away. They bring you along for the journey and can transport you to the middle of an intimate conversation, fly you across the world, or transport you to a galaxy far far away. I want to build that skill and I want you to come along for the adventure.

2. We all have our cracks that make the world a more beautiful place. I need to embrace that here.

I craft stories on Walk with History (youtube) through historic location exploration. Jenn and I dig into those stories on Talk with History (podcast) and we get to interview people who have done and researched some amazing things.

On The History Road Trip I need to embrace the cracks.

I’m not turning this into a journal.

This will still be focused on bringing you history, travel tips, and more.

The History Road Trip will continue to bring even more value to the Curious, the Explorers, and the History Lovers out there.

However, if I try to become too formal or perfect here…I may miss out on the unexpected beauty that can come from embracing imperfection.

This year I will have a bit more fun here while still bringing you all the history, travel locations, and tips/tricks that I can. Just expect a bit more informality. 😁

Flaws are ok. History is fun. Adventure is out there…let’s go find it! 🚕 🧳 🌍

---

And remember: Chuck Norris doesn’t cheat death. He wins fair and square.