buddha story | The present moment

 

The Present Moment

In a quiet village nestled between misty hills, there lived an old potter named Arun. He was known for crafting the finest clay pots, each shaped with patience and care. But despite his skill, Arun was never truly happy. His mind was either lost in the past or racing toward the future.

Each morning, as he sat by his wheel, memories of his youth would cloud his thoughts—times when his father had praised his work, times when he had failed and been scolded. Then, his mind would leap forward, worrying about whether his pots would sell, whether the market would be kind to him, whether his aging hands would betray him.

One evening, after a long day of work, Arun visited the village monastery, where a wise monk named Bhanu resided. Arun poured out his troubles, saying, “My heart is always restless. Either I regret the past or fear what is to come.”

The monk smiled and handed Arun a cup of tea. “Drink,” he said.

Arun sipped, but his mind wandered—was the tea too bitter? Had Bhanu made it too strong? Before he could finish his thoughts, the monk gently took the cup from him and poured more tea.

“Did you taste the tea, Arun?” Bhanu asked.

Arun hesitated. “I...I was thinking about something else.”

The monk nodded. “This is your life. Always drinking, but never tasting. Always working, but never living. The past is gone, the future is unknown, but this moment—the warmth of this tea in your hands—is real.”

That night, Arun couldn’t sleep. He realized he had spent his entire life lost in thoughts, missing the beauty of each moment.

The next day, when he sat at his potter’s wheel, he focused only on the wet clay between his fingers. He felt its coolness, its softness, the way it molded with every movement of his hands. He did not think of the past, nor worry about the future. He simply created, fully present in the moment.

For the first time in his life, he truly lived.

And from that day forward, Arun’s pots became even more beautiful—not because of his skill, but because they carried the essence of a man who had finally learned to be present.