Two sides to every story

Glass act: The mug that split in two all on its own.

Some people are “glass half-empty” folks, others lean toward being “glass half-full.” I fear that despite my best efforts, I’m one of the former. I have a friend, however, who — thanks to an incredible occurrence in his kitchen — gets to be both simultaneously.

My friend — let’s call him “Bob” — was sitting at his kitchen table, quietly savoring the New York Times crossword one morning this week when a glass mug full of coffee that had been left on the counter split in two.

Really! It was like one of those Criss Angel Mindfreak stunts – the mug had neatly separated down the middle, and not along its fabricated seams. The halves slid a centimeter or two apart, leaving the coffee to drip down the cabinets into a puddle on the floor.

Bob was so amazed by this marvel, he decided to keep the pieces. They are displayed on his window sill. (I have seen the mug; he is not making this up.)

I’ve been thinking a lot about this mug, and how it is a metaphor for life. I don’t know about you, but too often, I become fixated on the bad stuff, wallow in my own little pity party and forget to be grateful for the good in my life. Or I get caught up in the euphoria of happy things and neglect the less-fun matters that also require my attention. It’s human nature, I know.

But that mug is an ideal reminder: Both sides of the half-empty/half-full glass are needed to contain a full and balanced life.

Otherwise, we’re destined to wander aimlessly, like that growing puddle of coffee on Bob’s kitchen floor.