Sofia took the cake out of the fridge at 4pm on her 50th birthday. She tapped the sides and realised with utter horror, that it was solid like a brick and therefore completely inedible. What a disaster. Her heart sank and moments later she found she was furious with herself. What a mess it all was and so symbolic that the cake itself was ruined. Didn’t it just sum up how hopeless she was these days? All those years of successful entertaining and now a basic cake defeated her.
Angrily, she sprinkled over the remainder of the edible, gold dust she had bought specially in Lawson’s. She grudgingly replaced the HAPPY BIRTHDAY candles back into the punctured holes and was aware of a sense of hopelessness taking over. In a very scathing tone, she mumbled to herself that it would soon all be over. At least the cake could be used to light the candles and everyone could sing the song and pretend they were having a good time. In that moment, her inner child’s dreams of magic and gold fairy dust were shattered, as another voice in her head said - ‘fuck the gold dust – it’s all a waste of time believing in that shit’. She would do this negative thinking in seconds, not realise the crippling effect her inner critic would have on her. The words would annihilate her, like an angry headmaster, blasting some unfortunate and unsuspecting student, scape-goated for no particular reason. Her body somehow hardened and became heavy and weighed down, as if taking on the constituency of the cake itself. There was no separation. She and the cake were one, as she collapsed in sympathy with it. They were both fucked up and doomed. Sofia could do this. She would ignore all her amazing achievements and focus solely on the one aspect that wasn’t perfect. She would write the script entirely based on the failed cake. From that 4 o’clock moment, she openly admitted her shame to every friend she saw or spoke to. It seemed to be all that mattered. In needing to be perfect, she started to lose connection to herself and everything around her. All because of a cake. During the candlelit ritual later on that evening, Sofia was nourished and totally present to the beautiful blessings and gifts she received. She was astounded by the love poured out to her by her generous hearted friends. She knew this was her truth. Her need for deep connection where everyone honoured the beauty and simplicity that each person offered. Everyone shining their light and their gifts in a truly unique blend, where nothing could ever be wrong. This was the real perfection. And as Helen so lovingly shared, everyone made up the ‘one heart’ on the ‘one earth’. How right she was. Sofia felt so much gratitude to have met and travelled the depths with this compassionate, wise lady who had such a heart of gold. At the table later, Sofia was more able to take herself lightly, as she presented the cake ready to light the candles. Her critic always so at hand and not wanting to miss a trick, felt it important to continue to admit in public, her shame of cooking such a burnt out offering. She joked that it was a Green and Black’s cake to die for – but only literally – ‘if I threw it at you’ she said. At this point, the energy shifted, as if enough was enough. Sofia’s self flagellation seemed to bring out the loving and strong, mother energies present in Helen and Rebecca. Helen questioned Sofia’s conviction that the cake was in fact inedible. She lovingly asked Sofia about the ingredients and on hearing that they were simply organic eggs, ground almonds and Green and Black’s chocolate, Helen stated quite clearly, that the cake would be undoubtedly be soft inside. Sofia listened but was not convinced. She found herself joking that a hacksaw was required to even get near the middle. At this point, Rebecca asserted herself and lovingly took control of the situation. She cut the cake with a complete ‘knowing’ that Sofia was utterly deluded. She exuded the self belief that the cake would be utterly delicious and the trust which Sofia so needed at times like this. Rebecca simply announced - ‘The critic is wrong’ - as it was clear that the mousse cake had delighted her taste buds with the squidgy hit of pure cocoa. Sofia tasted a small piece and that was the proof. She melted. Her body and spirits lightened, once again mirroring the constituency of the cake. Helen laughed that the cake had a delicious soft centre and was only centimetres away from the brittle edges that had defended it. Sofia chucked as the insights hit home. She smiled as she realised the need to trust the hidden depths in herself and others and not to judge any book by its cover. Oh - this constant disbelief in herself and life unless it was proven otherwise. How amazing that on a 50th birthday celebration, a cake could deliver such a powerful message. The next day, Sofia looked for the recipe sheet which she knew she needed to retrieve to give it its due honour. She carefully checked twice in the recycled paper bin but it was not there. Suddenly, it dawned on her, that in her disgust and anger, she had crushed it and thrown it out in the main bin. Like it had sinned and didn’t deserve to even be recycled. That was its punishment and this was how she would punish herself. Humbly, she fished out the damp, crumpled sheet covered in left-over avocado. She wiped it lovingly, before placing it to dry carefully on the warm boiler. She re-read the title. DARK CHOCOLATE MOUSSE CAKE WITH GOLD DUST ….The picture looked beautiful as it shone like sunlight…….’Chill overnight and it will be dense, fudgey and wicked’…. Yes, she thought the next day – ‘the critic is wrong’ , agreeing with Rebecca wholeheartedly. She smiled, with an inner knowing of what the next 50 years might bring with that awareness and she gave thanks. E N D
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