The organizers of the Native American Flute Circle were celebrating five years of it’s existence. They meet on the afternoon of the third Sunday at San Luis Rey Restaurant and Bakery, where wonderful Mexican food is served free to the participants in the flute circle. Jim and I had salads with nopal cactus and beans. I forgot to request no cheese when I ordered and our food, and it arrived with a light sprinkling of cheese which I scrapped off of mine. The restaurant is a great venue for recovery events as the food is excellent, the pastries are popular (although they don’t meet my standards), and no alcohol is served.
I had brought a song sheet with a composition I had composed and written out called, All My Relations, inspired by the Sioux Prayer. I brought it up to the front encased in a clear zip lock bag. At the last flute circle the previous month, I had won a pair of silver and turquoise earrings in the raffle. I had asked myself, how can I contribute? I don’t seem do crafts anymore, but I still compose music.
A husband and wife team, Rob and Marge, have been doing an excellent job of keeping the flute circle going for five years. They both lead White Bison Wellbriety Recovery groups as well. When I made my offering for the raffle, Rob and pointed to something brown on a platter saying, “Look at our five-year cake!” I was thinking something along the lines of, what asshole did that shit come out of? But I tried to keep my expression pleasant and not reveal my deep aversion for cake. I probably didn’t quite succeed.
I love recovery people! They are not going to put liquor or dope in your face, and of that I am deeply grateful. But cake? How sad to switch one addiction for another.
I got seduced into eating cake for the last time twenty something years ago. I was hanging out with a mother and daughter from Romania, I think it was. They were really sweet people. I was telling them a little about the religion I had recently discovered, the Baha’i Faith. They made an elaborately decorated cake and urged me to have a piece. I had cleaned up my diet quite a bit and was fairly sensitive to some of the ingredients in cake, such as wheat and sugar, but I didn’t want to be viewed as a food snob.
Oh did I get sick! I spent several miserable days in bed. I never get sick unless I eat something that has been refined, adulterated, or sourced from a factory farmed animal. I had already known that, and I learned it again. But that was the last time for me for cake, unless I have reason to believe it was whole foods and vegan — or the dairy component was grass-fed and humanely cared for.
The cake was cut and practically everyone in the restaurant had a piece. Even my husband accepted a piece and stirred it up with his fork but didn’t eat it. A woman later told me she regretted missing out when she had gone out temporarily during the time the cake was cut.
My song sheet was the last raffle gift chosen. Why would a person want to struggle to learn to read and play composed notes when you can improvise something just as good or better?