The Sodajerks - Celestine Recipe

The Celestine Recipe

NOTE: Not for the ADD/ADHD short attention span types.

A Critical Disaster.

I drove up to the Italian restaurant and parked, then leaned back in my seat to think for a moment. Charlene, I knew, would already be inside, waiting to talk to me. But why? I hadn't heard a word from her in six years wouldn't it be an enormous coincidence if she happened to have some strange bit of information that could launch me on a wild adventure just when I have some free time on my hands? I stepped out of the truck and walked toward the restaurant. Behind me (don't ask how I can see behind me) the last glow of a sunset sank in the west and cast highlights of golden amber across the wet parking lot. You see it had rained earlier but the water had yet to evaporate and that's why the streets were still wet and shiny to reflect the light of the sun that was setting in the west.

What was I to think of this recipe Charlene had mentioned -- this ancient recipe found in the South of Italy that she couldn't wait to tell me about? When I walked in to the restaurant there was a big commotion and a lot of drama centered around my friend Charlene but she brushed it off. "That thief and those police aren't important" she said "The important thing is that I tell you about this recipe." I shifted in my chair. "Aha, you're as restless as everybody else" she said. When I responded that I didn't feel restless but merely needed to shift my weight she countered "You're restless. You're supposed to be. It's in the Recipe, in the First Ingredient."

"Tell me about this recipe" I said.

"Well for one thing they say the government and the church want to suppress it, so you know right off the bat that it's a very important text."

"Oh assuredly it is so Socrates" I said.

"You know me," she continued. "I'm curious. I was eating in a cafŽ in Mollesse and I asked for the recipe for the pasta sauce I was eating. Suddenly a hush fell over the entire restaurant. I noticed a waiter watching me. He wouldn't tell me his name but agreed to answer all my other questions. He said the recipe dates back to about 600 B.C. and it is said to induce a massive transformation in those humans who eat it. The waiter said it's a kind of renaissance in consciousness, occurring very slowly, so slowly in fact you might think it isn't happening at all."

I couldn't believe it. "Do you really believe this crock? We're in an Italian restaurant. This is the real world do you see anything changing here?"

Just as I said that someone at the table beside us burped loudly. Charlene and I stared at each other shocked that the outburst had occurred at the very moment when we were discussing how some proof would need to happen in this very room. "You see?" asked Charlene "People can't keep it inside. The energy of change and growth bursts out of them. According to the First Ingredient it begins unconsciously at first but you'll begin to feel a profound sense of restlessness. Feel it yet? How about now? No? How about now? Now? Aha! I thought so."

As she spoke I thought back on how many times I had belched. Sometimes my burps were deep, long and loud. Clearly the signs were there. Why couldn't I recognize them?

I was restless. Profoundly restless. Our meals arrived. Even though she had ordered before me, because remember I was late and then I dawdled in the wet parking lot, we both were served Penne Arrabiatta. "What a coincidence." I said. "That's the First Ingredient." She said "You'll start to notice coincidences more and more frequently. And you'll notice the color red everywhere, in clothing, on products, on TV. And you'll begin to notice a lot of Ford Explorers on the road. Don't believe me? Keep your eyes peeled and call me in a few weeks."

"But what about the recipe? What are the rest of the ingredients?"

"That you'll have to discover for yourself." She said and smiled as she waved goodbye and left the restaurant through the exit door.

I was left to wonder at the amazing coincidence of Charlene reappearing in my life just when I needed an inciting incident to propel me into an adventure. And all the better that her mysterious story should in itself justify and explain away any turn of events that might seem too conveniently coincidental.

The Longer Winded Now.

I can't tell you how lucky I was to find a cheap convenient flight to Rome and just when I had an interest in going to Rome too. When I sat down on the plane in my window seat a feeling a fatigue swept over me. I thought about a nap. I thought about pasta sauce. I thought maybe I had left the iron on. I thought about a nap again. But I couldn't sleep. Maybe I was crazy to fly off to Rome in search of a mysterious recipe. I was beginning to doubt the first ingredient. And I felt bad about doubting. Doubting is bad.

Somehow I managed to lull myself to sleep. Maybe I was reading this book. Thirty or forty minutes later -- no I think it was 37 minutes later, I was awoken by an intense need to relieve my bladder. As I made my way to the toilets I noticed a tall man with round glasses standing near the window on the plane we were traveling in talking to the flight attendant who was working this flight. He glanced at me briefly. For an instant I thought I recognized him. Then in the next instant I thought I didn't..

"So the pasta sauce served on in-flight meal is not made from the mysterious recipe from 600 BC?" the man said. "I don't really know." Said the flight attendant.

"I just thought since you travel to Rome a lot you might have heard about it. Do you know a guy in Rome named Mario?'

The flight attendant shook her head no. I was dumbstruck. Was he speaking of the same recipe from 600 BC I was seeking?

I walked into the restroom and tried to decide what to do. I decided to urinate standing up. The seat did not look very clean. I returned to my seat, content to write off the incident as a coincidence. But wait isn't the first Ingredient about coincidence? I had to speak with him.

I found him in his seat asleep. I shook his shoulder but he would not wake. I pinched the skin on the back of his large manly hands. He awoke with a start. "Excuse me," I said. "I heard you asking about a pasta sauce recipe from 600 BC. Is it the same recipe I'm looking for?" We talked a while and concluded that we were both referring to the same mysterious recipe. He introduced himself as Wade Dobson, a very smart historian from NYU. But not until after a very important incident where we annoyed the passenger next to him and he gave up his seat so we could drone on.

Dobson said we'd all be tempted to dismiss the message of the recipe not because this book was so poorly written but because we couldn't put the revelations in the historical context they needed. He explained how the Second Ingredient provides this context. In other words; if you doubt the message you're just not smart enough.

Now NYU may not be Ivy League but it's a very good school and if a learned historian from NYU could believe in the ancient recipe with the full knowledge of history behind him, who was I to doubt it?

Dobson went on to say that we should be careful who we talked to in Italy about the Recipe since the Italian government was trying to cover up it's existence. Why? I wondered.

Although the fact that a government as large and impressive as Italy's would go to such lengths to suppress the recipe just made me believe in it all the more. I mean the Italians wouldn't suppress a right to free speech unless they were good and scared right? That would be fascist. Dobson explained it was far from fascism it was plain and simple capitalism. The Italian government was under the thumb of Mama Celeste Foods, Inc. and Mama did not want this recipe getting around.

A Moving Feast.

When I reached Rome I was starving. I went to a tratoria and ordered some pasta. As I ate the penne with red sauce I felt transformed. My body temperature rose. I began to sweat. I felt I was vibrating or glowing.

A strange man approached my table and asked in heavily accented English if he could join me. My instinct was to refuse but I remembered that many opportunities like this were to be expected now that I had embraced the first ingredient of unbelievable coincidences which advance the plot. I invited the man to sit. He told me that he was a distinguished scientist with a background in very impressive things like quantum physics.

"I mostly study energy. That's why I approached you. I could see very strong energy around you. You must have eaten the sauce cooked according to the Recipe." He said. Could he mean the Recipe? This was too great a coincidence. But the first ingredient kept me form doubting.

"What did you mean when you said you could see my energy?" I asked. He told me that we all have auras and they show different things based on how we focus our energies. Our auras vibrate faster or slower and this can be seen by those who embrace the Ingredients. He explained that this was the third ingredient.

"So you believe in the recipe?" I asked. "I do" he replied. "People who believe vibrate up to a higher level. We're better than regular people. Anyone who doesn't believe is just not as evolved as we are."

He blathered on about how quantum physics shows us that the observer determines the results of the observation and used this line of reasoning to prove that just about anything goes at the quantum level and since anything goes, he chose to go with New Age nonsense. And if a serious man of science like this could believe, I'd be a fool to doubt. "Great tasting sauce though isn't it?" He asked. I agreed it was.

A Papal Cover Up.

When in Rome do as the Romans do. So I went to St. Peter's and sat down in a pew in a quiet corner. Within a few minutes an old priest sat beside me. "You are interested in the Recipe, no?" he asked. I was. How did he know? This was just too easy. I never had to do any work to advance this story.

"Could you see my energy?" I dared to guess.

"I see lots of energy. The whole world is energy. We humans concern ourselves with giving and taking energy. I'm feeling a bit low energy right now myself. Do you have a candy bar or some orange juice?"

As it happened I did. I offered him his choice. He selected my Kit Kat bar. Damn I was looking forward to that later. After he boosted his energy he was able to communicate to me that he had spent his whole adult life, which had to more that 60 years, studying religion and spirituality and he had never found such glorious perfect enlightenment as the Recipe.

"But I risk much to say this. Especially here." "Why?" I asked "Does the church not approve of the recipe?"

"Oh my son the church has been bought off by Mama Celeste. She has the Pope in her pocket. And whatever Mama wants, mama gets."

"Is that the fourth ingredient?" I asked.

"No dumb ass the fourth ingredient was all that stuff about the struggle for energy. That's why I took your last candy bar. It's called an object lesson. You're not too quick are ya? No matter, the dumb ones make great converts to our culÉcause."

"So Mama Celeste has asked the Pope to suppress the recipe?"

"Yep. If that recipe gets out, her empire crumbles. And the Pope wrongly fears people everywhere will be so in love with eating this ancient divine sauce they'll turn to gluttony. And gluttony is one of the deadliest sins. But the infallible Pope is just silly to fear this."

Wow I thought. If a learned spiritual man like this priest could believe in the Recipe I certainly should too. And what's more if even the Pope was frightened of it, it must certainly be a powerful message.

Ingredients 5-9 deleted due to being too boring.

The Last Chapter

I had to find a way to get the message of the Recipe out to as many people as possible. Suddenly it hit me: an internet virus! I would write the code to distribute the recipe to every email address in the world. Or at least @hotmail.com, @aol.com and @yahoo.com. But then I remembered I don't know how to code.

So I penned an email I hoped would charm people and go viral. This is that email:

Dear Friend,

My daughter & I had just finished our lunch of pasta marinara at Neiman-Marcus Cafe in Dallas. It was so excellent that I asked if they would give me the recipe for the sauce and they said with a small frown, "I'm afraid not." Well, I said, would you let me buy the recipe? With a cute smile, she said, "Yes." I asked how much, and she responded, "Two fifty." I said with approval, just add it to my tab. Thirty days later, I received my VISA statement from Neiman-Marcus and it was $285.00. I looked again and I remembered I had only about $35 for our lunches. As I glanced at the bottom of the statement, it said, "Pasta Sauce Recipe - $250.00." Boy, was I upset!! I called Neiman's Accounting Dept. and told them the waitress said it was "two fifty," and I did not realize she meant $250.00 for a pasta sauce recipe. I spoke to my lawyer about this and though he shared my outrage, he said there was nothing I could do but pay the charge. I had ordered the recipe after all. So this is where you come in. I'm sending the recipe for free to all my friends and I hope you will do the same.

Now my email plan worked perfectly in no time it had criss-crossed the globe. Some people even got it twice. It has been translated into seven languages. There was just one problem. One of my first recipients had altered the text and attached her own chocolate chip cookie recipe. And I know who it was too. She's a little old grandmother of 31 grandkids in South Carolina. The bitch.

So faced with the dubious success of my email campaign I was forced to find a new strategy for unleashing the Celestine Recipe on the world. Then it struck me; a work of fiction, a popular novel. I would appeal to everyone with couched New Aged affirmations that would reassure everyone that they didn't have to do anything very difficult to achieve enlightenment and improve the world. This then is that book. You then are those people. Spread the Truth. Spread the Sauce.