Granite slab

 There once lived a potter named Elior in a quiet village nestled between the hills near the sea. He was no ordinary artisan. While others worked only with clay, Elior could shape anything, granite, glass, driftwood, even metal scorched in fire. People came from far and wide, not only to see his creations, but to understand how he worked with such vastly different materials and still crafted objects of astonishing beauty and unmatched value.

One day, a young apprentice named Tavi arrived at his door, eager to learn the secret.

Elior welcomed him without question and gave him a simple task: create a bowl.

Tavi chose the softest clay and shaped it carefully. It was smooth, symmetrical, and fired perfectly. When he showed it to Elior, the master simply nodded. “Now make the same bowl, but from this.” He handed Tavi a rough slab of granite.

Frustrated and confused, Tavi tried for days. He chipped, carved, sweated, and failed. The granite broke again and again. When he finally returned with a bowl that was crude and uneven, he hung his head in defeat.

Elior examined both bowls, the perfect clay one and the flawed granite one. He asked, “Which of these is worth more?”

Tavi pointed at the flawless clay bowl. “This one, obviously.”

But Elior shook his head. “No. The granite bowl is worth more, not because it’s more beautiful, but because you learned what beauty costs.”

Then Elior led him to the workshop’s back room, where shelves were lined with stunning creations, each crafted from a different material. A glass vase that shimmered like water. A wooden goblet carved with the rings of a century-old tree. A bronze teapot with a handle shaped from braided wire. And at the center, on a pedestal, stood a sculpture of a bird. Its wings made from discarded metal, its body clay, and its beak finely polished stone.

“This,” Elior said, “is the truth of creation. Some think mastery means using the perfect material. But real mastery is learning how to bring out the best in whatever you’re given…whatever you have to work with, without complaining. Whether it's hard, brittle, rough, or yielding, it all has value, and it is best if you know how to shape it.”

Tavi never forgot that lesson.

Years later, people would come to his studio and marvel at how he could turn anything into something priceless. And when they asked his secret, he would smile and say:

“I learned from a man who didn’t just shape materials, he shaped meaning.”