There was a magic bread stone that belonged to no one. It appeared in bags, under sinks and next to tents whenever someone was so desperate they prayed to be fed. It was rumored that while it was formed as bread it was really something called First Food, which is the sustenance of knowledge and truth.
The bread stone did not work by itself. The recipient of the stone had to mix flour and water and place it on the stone. Only then could the dough be transformed into the most nourishing bread anyone ever ate. You didn't need to be a baker. You did need some resources to make its magic.
The bread stone was honored for centuries. No one knew from where it came and no one tried to keep it. They counted their blessings when it would appear. In fact, it was so honored that every freshly baked loaf was always shared and not one crumb fell to the ground. It was thought that any crumb that fell to the ground was ten years of misery and misfortune. In fact, it was rumored that Marcos Marco, the sickly man who had lived squarely in the center of the forest in a clearing where nothing grew, let five crumbs fall and was cursed with infertile land and ill health. It was whispered that no one ever visited Marcos Marco fearing his bad luck would rub off on them.
After fifty years, Marcos Marco died. He was buried next to his home with a simple marker that reads, "Here lies Marcos Marco who let crumbs fall." Still, nothing grows around Marcos Marco's grave except for a single white lily that blossoms for a single day on the anniversary of his death.
Over decades the story of Marcos Marco changed and then finally disappeared. As his story faded, so too did prayers, which caused the bread stone to vanish almost completely. There were memories of magic, but no one believed them. Instead, everyone believed in the state. Prayers became forms. Bread became stamps. Stamps became food, but it was never First Food, so people were constantly hungry. In fact, everyone was hungry even when bellies were full.
One Friday afternoon when the sun was low on the horizon and the cool fall air turned into cold winter wind, a wandering traveler clothed in tattered rags and wrapped in a large gray wool cape stubbed her toe on a large stone next to a ramshackle hut whose roof was no more. She almost cursed, but then she saw the most beautiful lily she had ever seen. It made her weep and sleepy. It also made her belly grumble. Suddenly, but not really suddenly, she remembered how hungry she was from traveling for weeks and not having eaten anything for two whole days. She had no more stamps, and she hated forms. Weariness washed over her, and she fell down on Marcos Marco's grave and fell into a deep, dark sleep.
Marcos Marco visited the woman in her dreams. He appeared as the white lily and danced like the breeze on a blustery day: full of vigor, vitality and vivaciousness. She laughed at his movements and was full of joy. Her heart longed to dance with the lily, so she sprung up from her bed, threw off her cape, kicked her heels and pranced like a deer. As they danced the music of the forest erupted. Carried on the songs of birds and crickets and frogs and leaves rustling was the most beautiful story. It was the true story of Marcos Marco.
For generations, the Marco clan were bakers, and they had learned a deep secret about bread: made correctly it could feed more than bellies; it also fed hearts and minds. They feared sharing this secret knowledge with anyone else for they believed it would be corrupted by the powerful and rich, so they kept their mouths shut and their hands busy.
They made their bread and continued to feed those that could afford it and those that humbly asked for it but could not pay. Over many years, they watched their community become more and more miserable and more and more hungry. Rarely, did anyone visit their bakery. It seemed people wanted their bellies full rather than their hearts and minds.
The eldest Marco, Marcia Marco, called to the entire Marco clan and asked them to gather around the hearth.
"Marco clan. It seems the world is changing and so too must we. We must find a new way to deliver our bread to those in need." Her voice was urgent and pleading. Marcia Marco believed the world needed their bread now more than ever. She believed it was the only way humans could not just survive but live. "What shall we do?"
A large woman with petite feet and thin fingers stood. She had married into the Marco clan and was trained as a witch.
"I have a solution but it will come at a great cost," said the witch.
"What is it, witch? Speak and do not hold back. Your craft is welcome here for it is the same as our craft. It speaks truth."
The witch shared her proposal. Upon hearing it, Marcia Marco wept. She knew it would work, but she knew it was at a cost greater than any she had imagined.
"I cannot be the one to decide if we should follow your path as it affects our entire clan. We must vote. Only if all agree shall we adopt your proposal as the cost is great."
Marcia Marco asked all the women to speak first. All the women agreed with the witch's plan. Then, Marcia Marco asked the men to speak. None spoke. Instead, they fell to their knees and bowed their heads. Marcia Marco knew they agreed.
"We accept your plan, witch. We must all prepare for what is to come."
Everyone dispersed back to their homes, gathered whatever ingredients for bread they had in their cabinets and on their shelves and returned to the hearth. The witch and Marcia Marco sat in front of the hearth with their hands clasped in a circle. Between them was the stone on which the Marco clan baked every loaf of bread. They were praying in whispers, chanting in a language no one knew. It was the First Language. Words spilled onto the stone and then disappeared.
When the entire clan was gathered, Marcia asked for a single volunteer. Marcos Marco stepped forward.
"My lad, you are so brave, and you will be remembered," said Marcia Marco. "You shall live beyond your entire clan. Your body shall be stricken with grief and sickness. And this fertile land upon which we live shall become barren. Ours is the easier path. Yours will last 50 more years. You shall be a reminder to all about what happens when First Food is abandoned and discarded."
The ritual that happened after that Marcos Marco did not witness. He was ordered to go to his home and to go to bed. He knew that when he woke, every other Marco would be gone, the land would never grow another grain of wheat, the hearth would be destroyed and a single bread stone would be the only thing besides himself that would remain. He also knew that while he was the keeper of the stone he did not own the stone. Eventually, he too would pass from this world to another. But first he had to teach the lesson of the bread stone.
He woke the next morning and everything was as he knew it would be. Later that morning, a villager came by and asked for some bread. Marcos Marco shared this story with the villager:
I have been cursed for I have not honored the bread stone. I let five crumbs drop to the ground, and now I am ill and my land is barren. I cannot make you bread, but if you are desperate and your heart is open, pray to be fed. You shall find the next morning a magic bread stone. Mix some flour and water together and place it on the stone. Leave it for an hour or more and when you come back you shall have the most amazing bread. But heed my advice: never drop a single crumb and share my tale with everyone.And that is how the magic bread stone came to be.
Upon the completion of this song and story, the lily died and the traveler woke. Her heart was hungrier than it had ever been, and she did not notice the hunger in her belly. She prayed to be fed and fell back asleep. When she awoke as the sun was rising, the magic bread stone was next to her.
She knew she needed flour and water, and she knew she would find none on this land. She wrapped the stone in her cape and set off for a village that was only a day away. When she reached the village, she found the bakery. She asked the baker for a cup of flour in exchange for her sweeping the shop. He agreed and at the end of the day after she had swept the entire bakery tidy he gave her a cup of flour.
"Are you sure you do not want bread," he asked.
"No. I do not yearn for your food. I long for First Food," she replied and then she left.
She walked to the well and pulled up the bucket full of water. As she was about to pour no more than a tablespoon into the flour, the waterman stopped her.
"That will cost you a dollar," he told her.
"I do not have a dollar, but I can guard your well this evening and make sure no one steals."
The waterman agreed to this arrangement and went home to his warm bed. The traveler took her one tablespoon of water and mixed it with her one cup of flour. She placed the dry dough on the magic bread stone, put it on the opposite side of the well from which she kept watch and covered it with her cape so she could not see it work its magic.
Dawn came and still she kept watch.
The waterman thanked her for watching the well all night.
"This was my first night's sleep in over a month," he told her. "Are you sure you do not want more water?"
"I am not concerned for this water for if I drink of it I will only become more thirsty. I hunger for First Food, which cannot be found in this well."
She gathered her cape and felt the fresh warm loaf underneath it. She smiled.
"What are you smiling about," the waterman asked.
She pulled the bread out from under her cape and handed him a small piece. "This is First Food, and it is meant to be honored. Make sure no crumb falls to the ground or you shall be cursed for ten years per crumb."
The waterman ate the small piece of bread skeptical that it was more than bread. And lo! It was so much more than just food. His heart danced, his eyes teared, his mouth sang, his feet fluttered, his mind opened.
"Dear traveling woman. It seems it is I who should thank you. This is the best food I have ever tasted. How can I repay you?"
"You can honor me by telling the tale of Marcos Marco to everyone you encounter."
"Who is Marcos Marco?"
And with that question, she shared his story.
It is because of this traveler that the magic bread stone was brought back to life. And it is why, when you are searching for more than just bread you should listen to the stories of travelers dressed in rags. For they shall feed you First Food. But first, you must give them the resources to work their magic. For they are sacred.
