The Language of Zen: Words for a World of Change

“Yaaaaawn!” Noriko was ready for breakfast.

“Mornings are the worst.”

“Augh!”

“Not this boring old bread again.”

“A girl gets tired of the same breakfast every day.”

“Listen, Dad!” Noriko took the bread from the dining room to the bakery where her father worked.

“Is he in there?” she wondered, peeking through the entrance curtain. Her father was teaching the baking apprentice.

“I want you to remember this. The bread may look the same, but how you cook it is different each day.”

“Huh?” This was news to Noriko.

Her father went on. “You have to adjust the recipe based on the day’s temperature. So the bread’s always different. OK?”

“Every day the bread’s different, and people too. You know, millions of blood cells die and are replaced inside us each minute.”

“There are customers who come back every day, but we have to treat them well because the bread’s new—and they are, too.”

“I’m sorry, Dad,” thought Noriko.

And she chomped on her bread, savoring each bite.