jar

i've never told anybody this, but i have inside of me this jar. it isn't a very fancy jar, nor is it a very large jar. it's what i think of as a rather humble jar. it's made of that baked clay that has a reddish orange color. it curves out from its circular base and curves back into its circular lip. this jar is perhaps the size of my two hands balled together. i have a long history with this jar.


when i was young, the jar was quite easy to keep full. whenever anything put me down, like an unappetizing dinner or an early bedtime, i took a sip from the top of the jar. the jar would be full of the sweet syrup of play dates and new toys. even when something worse than usual came along, like scolding from parents or a fight at school, a slighter longer sip would quench me, and the jar would fill soon enough.

as i grew, i found that each little event in my life took more than just a sip or even a long sip to remedy. when my parents grew angry with me or each other, i would need a mouthful. when my friendships became competitions and my competitions became losses, i took two. but it was alright, because my jar still filled readily with the dew of video games and puberty.

by the time i finished middle school, i needed a drop in the morning and a drop in the evening even if nothing detrimental even came my way. when those heavy winds did blow, though, i would take a gulp or two. only then would the warm feeling inside return, and only then would the potion of some lofty ambition or a pretty girl replenish the jar. those days i started to fear for my jar, and often i wondered if anybody knew of it, wanted to drink of it.

near the end of high school a gulp a day was keeping me together. my jar had not increased in size, but i found that in order to refill it each day, i needed to seek out the liquid in other similar vessels. at times others would share with me if they were in excess, and perhaps i would return the favor, but always taking a bit more than i gave. those days i was imbibing the nectar of high education to be and those perhaps-serious relationships.

until recently, i had been emptying my jar each morning to fill my unending thirst. my jar, once a joyful source of youth and energy, was now a terrible chain that bound me to my ineptitude. the willpower that i gained from guzzling all the drink my jar contained was about enough to sustain me until i found enough liquid from desire of job and family and who knows what else to refill it, only to begin again. i could not remember how it was that this jar once gave me so much happiness, that this jar once took me away from troubles instead of delivering me to them. daily i cursed this jar that once filled me, for now i was forced to fill it.

finally, as even the contents of the entire jar did not sustain me long enough to locate another serving, i learned of a fountain that gives up an endless supply of drink. if you were to fill your vessel from this fountain, then you could drink from it as long as you desired, and never would the level of liquid lower. the fountain made my jar an endless supply. i am able to drink from dawn to dusk without stopping, and the jar remains full. i drink not in order to bring me back to my normal state, but because i am lifted away from the need of continually filling my jar. nowadays when others come searching to fill their vessels, they are free to take from my jar. if they wish only a sip to continue their journeys, they are so watered. if any is thirsty enough, then i will tip a bit from my jar to theirs. if they ask how to acquire a water as sweet as mine, i point them to that fountain.

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obviously, not one of my more subtle works. but feel free to take a sip from my jar.