In an ancient land, where the mountains touched the sky and the rivers sang with joy, there lived the wise Master Zhao. He had taught many students the art of cooking, but also the secrets of life. He was old, and he knew his time was near. So he summoned his three most promising apprentices to his chamber.
– “My dear children, you have learned much from me, but there is one final lesson you need to master before I depart. You must learn how to cook the Dish of the Masters – a bao. It is not just a simple bun, but a symbol of harmony, balance, and wisdom. Here, take this recipe, it contains all the ingredients and instructions you need. Two weeks from now, you will present your baos to me and the whole temple. The one who cooks the best bao will inherit my title and legacy. Now, go!” – he said, handing them each a scroll.
The three apprentices bowed and left, each with a different thought in their mind.
The first one thought:
– “I have the recipe. I am a great cook. I have mastered all the techniques and flavors. I don’t need to practice or prepare. I will just follow the recipe on the day of the ceremony. But I must keep it safe and secret, otherwise someone might steal it or copy it.”
The second one thought:
– “I am a good cook, but I can always improve. I have some experience and skills, but I also have doubts and fears. I will practice, but not too much. One day before the ceremony, I will try the recipe, just to make sure I can do it right. But I must not waste too much time on practicing, otherwise I might lose my confidence. I will keep the recipe close to me.”
The third one thought:
– “I am a bad cook. I have no talent or passion and I barely ever cooked anything. My dishes are bland. This is not my path. The other two are much better. I have no chance. I should give up now. But how can I face Master Zhao and the others? How can I explain my failure? I will just pretend I am trying…”
As he was wandering, trying to find an excuse to quit, he passed by a nearby village. He was so lost in his misery, that he didn’t notice a beggar sitting on the side of the road. He accidentally kicked him, causing him to groan in pain and fear. The beggar looked up at him with pleading eyes and said:
– “Young man, food, please. Just a little bit of food. I am starving. I haven’t eaten for days.”
– “Leave me alone, I don’t have food, and I can’t make any food. I am a useless cook. I am a worthless monk.” – snapped the apprentice.
– “Just a little bit… Just a meal… Please, have mercy…” – begged the beggar again.
The apprentice ignored him and walked away, feeling angry and ashamed. He was almost back to the temple when a small voice in his heart whispered to him:
– “What are you doing? How can you be so cruel? How can you call yourself a monk? What did you learn from Master Zhao? He taught you to be kind, to be generous, to be compassionate. He taught you to cook, not just for yourself, but for others. He taught you to cook, not just with your hands, but with your heart.”
The apprentice stopped and thought. He felt a surge of emotion, a mix of guilt and gratitude. He turned around and ran back to the temple. He gathered all the cooking equipment and ingredients he thought he might need and rushed back to the village. He found the beggar and apologized to him. He offered to cook him a meal, and not just him, but anyone hungry. He looked around and saw the people of the village – poor and weak.
“Maybe I have no clue how to cook, but I can at least try to help these people.” – he thought to himself.
And so he began to cook. He opened the recipe and followed it as best as he could. But he also improvised and added his own touches. He asked the villagers for their opinions and preferences. He listened to their stories. He cooked with his hands, but also with his heart.
And so the two weeks passed. He cooked every day, for himself and the villagers. He made many mistakes, but he also made many discoveries. He made many friends, but he also made many baos.
Then, on the day of the ceremony, the three apprentices presented their baos to Master Zhao and the whole temple. The first one cooked a perfect bao. It was round and smooth, soft and fluffy, sweet and savory. It looked like a masterpiece, and it tasted like one too. The second one cooked a better bao. It was not only perfect, but also creative. It had different shapes and colors, textures and flavors. It was a surprise and a delight. But everyone was amazed when they tasted the third one’s bao. It was not perfect nor creative. It was simple and humble, plain and ordinary. But it had something else, something special, something magical. It was full of life, full of love, full of wisdom.
Master Zhao smiled. He knew that day a new master was born. Not the best, nor the smartest. But the one who found a purpose.
Bao and Purpose
