My Yellow Bucket - a finding of self

It was midmorning. A fire was softly crackling in the wood stove and the room was bright and calm. I sat in front of the Story Teller once again.

“Have you seen your yellow bucket?” he asked of me in a soft voice.

“No”, I replied slowly, as my mind raced to find a memory of a yellow bucket.

“Well, you will see it,” he said in a confident sort of way.

“What is it?” I ventured verbally.

“All of your life,” he began, “you have carried your Yellow Bucket with you wherever you have gone. Over the years, you have put in it all those many many things that you chose to keep. Your bucket, now, has become very heavy and filled with so many things that it will not hold any more. Not long ago, you found an emerald and because there was no room left in your yellow bucket, you have been carrying it around in your other hand. Now, you see a beautiful diamond and you desire to have that, too, but no longer do you have any way of carrying it.”

”Your bucket is very heavy and your shoulders and arms are strained and tired. You have no way of carrying the beautiful newly found diamond and as you stand there viewing it, your emotions are registering a great sadness and burden.

I sat there contemplating what was just said - I understood in a vague way what was meant. I recalled a childhood memory of a plastic yellow bucket and carrying it as I walked along the beach. Into the bucket went various small treasures I found along the way, shells, rocks, sticks, and shinny smooth pieces of glass.

I would walk all the way down to the point before I turned around to walk back. it was almost a mile to the point and by the time I had reached it, turned around and started the journey home along the same stretch of beach, my yellow plastic bucket would be so heavy I would barely make it back tugging the bucket with both hands.

Huffing and puffing from the trek, I would sit on the beach house steps and dump the contents of my bucket on the sand. Multi-colored coquina shells, bits of salty smelling seaweed, and pieces of broken coral. They were all amazing and wonderful when first I saw them glistening on the shore, but now they represented a heavy weight, for I was still tired from the long walk home carrying them. I picked each treasure up, held it in my hands, felt it, smelled it, even touched my tongue to a few of them to taste the fresh saltiness. By examining each piece, by getting to know each piece, I was able, then, to release most of my treasure back to the beach, sand and the Gulf of Mexico, freeing me to find interest in other things, making my bucket lighter, easier to carry and freeing the treasure to complete it’s sojourn, whatever that may have been. I only kept the knowledge of the treasure, which weighs nothing and released the treasure itself.

I suddenly looked up and my eyes met with the blue of the Story Teller’s eyes.

“So,” he said, “You have found your yellow bucket! It is wondrous.”

“Yes, I have,” I said, beginning to relate the experience with what he had said.

“You have much in your life’s bucket that you no longer need to carry around. Empty your bucket, entity. Own the knowledge which weighs nothing, release the rest of the experience - the guilts, the fears and all the judgments you have placed upon yourself and onto others.”

“By doing so, you will get rid of the burden. You will be able to align yourself, pull yourself into a balance and therefore make room in your bucket for those things of joy and love and peace.”

Tears sprang to my eyes as I felt the relief (and release) of what seemed like centuries of weight - physically my body relaxed and I felt what I can only describe as a pure feeling of simply being uncomplicated, alive.

After a long slow deep breath and a blink of his eyes, he leaned forward and spoke. “Entity, you are loved grandly, you always have been. You have always been heard. You are most special unto all that is. Know that.”

Then, as the tears flowed down my cheeks and dropped onto my lap, he, reaching for the tissues said, “You are bubbling over, you are loved. You are freeing yourself and it is most wondrous.”

Several years have come and gone since the afternoon with the Story Teller and the knowledge of the Yellow Bucket. I have emptied my life’s bucket, examined the contents, kept the knowledge and released the rest. I have learned now, not to store and save up experiences, but to go for the knowledge straight away. The physical manifestations are illusions. They are only there to bring experiences into my life - so that I can gain more knowledge. (We only truly understand through experience.) I don’t need to struggle with the weight and put stress on my body and spirit. Gallstones, strokes and cancer are not required by the universe. Thus, cost of knowledge through understanding, is merely a three step deal. Allow, learn and release.

My plastic Yellow Bucket? Well, it now sits in the center of the table, filled with joy and love, daffodils and daisies. It has returned home - just like I am about to do.

© Prissy Hamilton 1996-2008