The Clay Pot Sutra

by Sarah Steele

Thus have I heard:

At one time the Buddha was abiding on Vulture Peak in Rajagrha with a great multitude of learned beings. The assembly was comprised of three thousand lay people, six thousand monks and nuns, nine thousand arhats, eighteen thousand bodhisattvas, and an abundance of goddesses, gods, and magical beasts. He had just finished preaching the Great Vehicle sutra entitled The Attainment of the Perfection of Wisdom Through the Embodiment of Emptiness. All the assembled beings gave praise and honor to the Buddha, recognizing his profound insight. Sariputra, however, stepped forward and said, “I still do not understand. How can one have form and be empty at the same time? And how can the self be empty? I exist and this I know!”

The Buddha replied, “There once was a lump of clay. It was a good lump of clay, and did all of the things a lump of clay was supposed to do. Then, one day, the potter picked it up and started to work it on the potting wheel. Instead of being a lump, it developed a sturdy, flat bottom and smooth sides. The potter fired it in the kiln, and then put it in her shop window with a sign that said ‘Clay Pot – $10.’ The clay was very confused. ‘I am still made of the same stuff as before,’ it mused, ‘why am I now called a pot? It must be my pretty, new shape.’ But it is not the form of the pot that makes it a pot, but what is created by the form, what possibilities it allows.”

Sariputra still looked very confused. “I still do not understand. I don’t see how the hollowed out clay could be anything but a pot.”

The Buddha sighed and said, “There was one a pilgrim who had been walking along the rocky mountain roads for a long time and was very thirsty. Just when he thought he could go no further, he spied a well on the side of the road. When he reached it, however, he found that it contained no bucket to draw out the water. He was very upset and wanted to cry, but he was so in need of water that he couldn’t even work up tears, so he sat down next to the well and waited for help.

“Soon the traveler saw another man coming down the road, and, amazingly, he was wearing a clay pot on his head. As soon as the man was in earshot the traveler shouted, ‘Greetings, fellow traveler! Please come to my aid! I am so thirsty, but this well appears to have no vessel for holding water. May I borrow your pot for a moment to get a quick drink?’

“The man stopped at the well, but told the traveler, ‘I’m sorry, good sir. I would love to help you, but I have no pot. You will just have to wait for the next passerby.’ He started back up the path.

“‘Wait!’ pleaded the traveler. ‘You have a pot on your head! Please do not deny me its use. I haven’t had any water in two days, and I am so thirsty.’

“The man stared at him blankly. ‘This is not a pot. It’s my special traveling hat,’ He turned at went on his way shaking his head. As he trudged up the path he thought, ‘That man must surely be delirious from dehydration. Everyone knows that only hats are worn on the head.’

“The traveler slumped to the ground next to the well feeling very dejected. But soon he saw another traveler coming up the path, this time a young woman.’Ho there!’ he shouted. ‘I am badly in need of water, but have no drinking vessel. Do you have a pot that you can spare for a quick drink?’

“‘Well, yes,’ she replied. ‘But you have one too, so I don’t see why you need to use mine.’

“‘No, I don’t! I am a pilgrim and am traveling without any possessions,’ said the traveler rather crossly, as he was growing thirstier and thirstier by the minute.

“‘Yes, you do.’

“‘No, I don’t! See!’ He held out his empty hands to her.

“‘You have just shown it to me,’ she said, ‘but maybe the dehydration is clouding your perception. I will take pity on you.’ She walked over to the well, stuck her arm far down into the hole, pulled it out, and took a drink from her cupped hand. ‘If it holds water, it’s a pot.’ The woman then changed form and showed herself as a manifestation of the Bodhisattva Avalokitesvara. ‘Happy travels!’ She turned and continued on her way.

“The traveler never had to wait at a well again.

“You see,” said the Buddha, “it is our perception of the pot that creates it.”

“Yes. Now I understand,” replied Sariputra. He pressed his palms together and bowed to the Buddha. The whole assembly was filled with great joy at the hearing of this profound wisdom. A ray of light shined forth from his forehead and illuminated all the Buddhalands in the ten directions. The earth shook six different ways, and blossoms rained down from the heavens.