Jacob the Baker: Gentle Wisdom for a Complicated World (Jacob the Baker Series) Read Online Free PDF Page A

right. Experience matures to memory. But memory is the gentlest of truths.”
    “Are you afraid of growing old, Jacob?” asked a child, giggling while she spoke.
    “What grows never grows old,” said Jacob.

WHAT ISN’T SAID IS ALSO HEARD
    A man and a woman came to Jacob, concerned because they could not communicate their feelings for each other and feared this expressed a void in their relationship.
    Jacob listened to the couple, letting his eyes wander between their eyes.
    “If you don’t have words,” said Jacob, “then share what you do have. Share the silence.”
    “But,” said the woman, “how can we talk to each other in silence?”
    “Ah,” Jacob reminded, “isn’t that why you came to see me? Because what isn’t said between people is also heard!”

DEATH IS ALSO A DOOR
    T wo children, who had become dependent on Jacob, were concerned about what they would do as he grew older and one day died.
    Jacob, sensing this, drew the children near and told them this story:
    “Once there was a student who was with a teacher for many years. And, when the teacher felt he was going to die, he wanted to make even his death a lesson.
    “That night, the teacher took a torch, called his student, and set off with him through the forest.
    “Soon they reached the middle of the woods where the teacher extinguished the torch, without explanation.
    “ ‘What is the matter?’ asked the student.
    “ ‘This torch has gone out,’ the teacher answered and walked on.
    “ ‘But,’ shouted the student, his voice plucking his fear, ‘will you leave me here in the dark?’
    “ ‘No! I will not leave you in the dark,’ returned his teacher’s voice from the surrounding blackness. ‘I will leave you searching for the light.’ ”

ON THE OTHER SIDE
    J acob walked next to the river.
    It’s path ran like a long, blue vein on the back of an ancient hand.
    Crickets sang, and their song was so consistent the music ceased.
    A blush of breeze rose from the grass. Jacob felt as if an angel’s wing had beat against his cheek. He touched his cheek slowly. He felt embarrassed by the thought.
    “That I should think an angel came to me.”
    He wept. And, again, the brush of breeze against his cheek.
    Jacob decided he would not sleep that night. He chose instead to lie on top of the covers and trace his breathing.
    By following his breath, he hoped to find the trail by which breath was given to this world.
    He saw himself as a boy, sitting and dreaming on the porch of his parent’s home, laying his cheek on the cement steps made warm by the spring sun.
    He saw the bakery, the tracks of the pigeons, the significance of a single footprint left casually in the dust.
    He saw time and the way it unwound a man.
    He saw himself release thought and judgment.
    He saw the shape before form, the view before the wall.
    And then he stopped seeking and knowing.
    And then he was at one with the One.
    And there was nowhere else for him to be.

MY HEART KNOWS WHAT MY MIND ONLY THINKS IT KNOWS
    M ax was chasing pigeons out of the back door of the bakery when he noticed Jacob coming toward him.
    He offered Jacob a wide grin and welcome.
    “Hey, Jacob! What’s going on here? You going to make us all holy men?”
    Jacob looked up from below the loading dock and laughed.
    “No, Max. God made you holy. And, you are responsible for knowing that.”
    “Not me,” said Max. “You’re the saint!”
    Jacob let the idea of this pass over him without any resistance. He reminded himself, “To deny a thought is to engage a thought.”
    Jacob walked into the bakery and stopped. His eyes rose and settled in a slow, arching vision of the space. He thought of how many times he had stared at the abstract shadows the sun sketched on the walls.
    He wondered how many of the details in this moment among moments would cling to him when all this dissolved.
    Someone touched Jacob’s elbow. He returned.
    It was someone he hadn’t seen before.
    “Are you