The pots he made became more beautiful not because his hands changed, but because his mind had stopped clinging to anger, craving, and fear.
Returning to his village, he did not become a different potter. But when a customer cheated him, he felt the old fire rise — then watched it pass before speaking. When he saw the richer potter’s new kiln, envy flickered in his throat — then faded like smoke. viprasys
One day, he heard of a Vipassanā teacher in the hills. “Go and learn to see things as they really are,” the villagers said. The pots he made became more beautiful not