Food, Inc.

Yes, I know it's a liberal film that doesn't quite tell the whole story. 

But still.  I saw the movie today for the second time in my Human Geography class.  And something occurred to me.  The first time I saw it, I don't really think it sunk in (which might've had something to do with who I was watching it with....). ;)  But in all seriousness, now that I've decided to be vegan (at least for a short while), my decision is being reinforced by things like that.

If you've never seen the movie, you should.  Even if you're not a proponent of animal rights, you still should know what you're eating and where it comes from.  Let's be honest - we ought to know what we're putting in our bodies, but we don't anymore.  It's a well-done movie that, although slightly biased, says a lot of important things.  And after watching it again today, I wouldn't be surprised if I just stayed Vegan.  I've recently become incredibly convicted about being a responsible consumer - environmentally, personally, geographically, socially... in every way possible.  In the food I buy, in the companies I actively or passively support, in the clothes I wear, in the things I say and do... I think it's so important to understand the consequences of our actions.

But what, you ask, can one individual possibly do about issues like global child labor?!  Yes, it's daunting.  I'll be the first to admit that.  I'm often overwhelmed by it, actually.  It's a constant struggle for me to remember that I am not God and that I can only do so much.  But I recently read an article for my Moral Philosophy class that suggested that cruelty persists because people still believe that individuals cannot make a difference.  And so I will, as an individual, stand up and do my part.  It will be small.  But you say, if I don't buy it/eat it/do it, certainly someone else will, right?!  Wrong!  What if 1 million of the 300 million people we have living in the United States decided to stop buying clothes that were made in sweatshops?  That could mean that those 1,000,000 people live in 1,000,000 different communities around the country, who have never met one another and who will never meet one another, and maybe they are even the ONLY people in their communities to do such a thing.  Does that mean that those 1,000,000 people aren't making a difference just because they FEEL isolated?  No!  Being alone in something should not prevent you from standing up for something you know is right - in fact, it should invigorate you!  This is what I seek to do - not just with this, but with every aspect of my life. 

So don't be surprised if I stay vegan.  Because right now, to me, it looks like there are a lot of good reasons for being vegan, and only 3 good reasons for not being vegan:  meat tastes good, laziness, and ignorance. (Ask me again in a month, I might have changed my tune... ;))

I Love Dogs (and Monkeys and Rats and All Other Animals)

So I've decided I'm going to be vegan. 


Maybe not permanently, but definitely for Lent.  I'm going to try it.  I'm doing it for a few reasons.  I love animals, and the more I learn (at the risk of sounding anti-American and communist), the more I dislike many aspects of Capitalism.  The idea of testing things on animals "because we can"and to avoid ridiculous litigiousness because people can't make enough money other ways disgusts me.  The idea of cramming millions of chickens in warehouses where they have their beaks cut off at a young age and where they walk around their entire lives in their own feces is horrendous.  I think there's a huge problem with the economical, ecological, and political implications of corporate food production, especially the meat industry.  It's healthier for the environment, and (if I do it right) healthier for me.  In Genesis, the one commandment God gave to Adam and Eve is to care for the earth.  And we are clearly not doing that.  And I am not doing that by supporting the industry with my money. 

But if I'm being honest, that's only a part of the reason.  Partly, I just really like the idea of a challenge.  I like entropy, I like chaos, and I like challenging and trying new things.  This is going to be a big challenge.  I like my meat.  I like my hamburgers.  But more than that, I love my milk.  My nutella, my cheese, my morning latte, my TOMS with leather insoles... so this is going to be a really big change.  It's going to take patience.  And forgiveness.  And self-control, and discipline, and commitment, endurance, thoughtfulness, dedication, self-awareness, prayer...

When I decided that I was really going to try this, I went on Amazon and ordered a few books about becoming Vegan.  I figured it'd be good to have a few starting points - some recipes, some advice from people who have been there, things to think about, how to make sure that I'm still getting all the vitamins I need, etc.  (That, and I tend to compulsively buy books.)  I got my first book tonight (The Complete Idiot's Guide to Vegan Living), and I started reading it.  As I started reading it, one of the things that kept cropping up was the idea that this is a transition not just in diet, but in lifestyle and in thinking about things.  The author kept insisting that this transition is hard, and that if I "slip" in my new eating habits, it's important not to beat myself up about it but to just forgive myself and move on.

Up until that moment, I hadn't thought about this as a spiritual experience.  I mean, I had in terms of the idea of giving [something] up for lent.  The idea is that whatever that [something] is, whenever I actively decide not to eat, drink, partake in, or whatever that [something] is, I'm reminded of the sacrifice Jesus made for us.  The idea that vegan living has a scriptural basis.  But not the actual transition itself.  But remember all those things I said this transition is going to take?  Yea, those are all actually things that God has been teaching and re-teaching me over the last semester.  And then God comes along and lays this whole vegan thing on my heart... 

God works in amazing and wonderful (and sometimes slightly intimidating) ways.  He is Faithful and He is Good, and I'm so excited to start this journey with Him. 

On Defining Myself

It is so strange the way my heartstings waltz with one another... I can be exhausted, hungry, lonely, (which I not really ever, but whatever...) PMS-ing, not feeling well, hurt, frustrated, angry, even grieving and my emotions are fairly constant. While I might be a bit moody, less touchy, needing time to myself for no apparent reason, or less motivated (even sometimes more self-centered), I'm good at being stable, containing whatever feeling it is to whatever in my life they are due and not allowing them to carry over. Even on 2 hours of sleep, should someone greet me with a friendly, "hey KP how are ya?" I'd in all likelihood reply with a "pretty good. tired, but good." And while I'd spend the day trying desperately to keep my eyes open, my attention focused, and slightly less willing to stand up for things that I know are going to require energy in large quantities, I'm still, overall, good.

But when I get restless (ok, I'm always restless), I can't control it. The mood swings are violent and unpredictable. One day can be good for no apparent reason and the next day miserable even though I was treated with all the due courtesies (plus some) that are "due". I'm well slept and well fed and not stressed, but even hour to hour, I can find myself feeling relatively good, and then like I want to crawl in a hole and die. I don't understand how that one emotion can tinker with every other one of my emotions, how that singular discontent in my life can lead to so much stress and anxiety and hunger and powerful, powerful things. Pulling that one heartstring makes all my other heartstings dance and leap like puppets in an uncoordinated, slightly violent and choppy rendition of an urban interpretive dance of a breaking heart. Like new, jagged earthen peaks rising from the ground to the heavens in a majestic salute to the raw, unabashed glory of these imperfect molten creations.

It is interesting that in nature such sights are full of awe and splendor and inspiration and overwhelming power and beauty. Yet in our own lives, in our own hearts and souls, we cannot accept these grand and imperfect mountain scenes, but rather we prefer the worn, loping hills of rolling grasses and grazing flocks. But how is it that those hills were formed? How can there be peaceful rolling hills if the weren't first giant, gaping, violent mountains. Do we get to pick which we want? Or must we begin with the land, the life we've been given, and should we choose to, wear down these restless mountains into rolling plains?

Much as i hate this feeling, these crazy mood swings and the violent peaks of my heart, I don't know that I want anything different. Which puts me in quite the conundrum - there's this blessing that feels like a curse, that creates discomfort and pain and hardship and man other things. It's difficult to reconcile the suffering it causes for me and more importantly for those around me with the joy and relief it can bring. It is Love that both drives me and hinders me, that causes as much pain as happiness and yet I cannot stop myself from loving - from loving EVERYONE. I try not to, i try to tell myself that sometimes it's not worth it, that I can't possibly meet and know and love all 7 billion people on this planet, so I may as well not try, but why not? Why should I put forth such effort to become someone other than the someone I was created to be? So what if I fall in Love too easily? So what if my heart yearns for things it may never have, if my hearts breaks more often than it becomes whole? What if I feel whole by being broken? What if my place in this world is to always be searching for my place? What do i do then? What do other people do with me? How do I wrestle with restlessness when the restlessness forces me into these patterns which I yearn for?

There are many things that I am, but few that truly define me - restlessness is, for me, at the core of why I am. Perhaps it yanks on my heartstings the way it does not because it is a string that is attached to the others, but because it IS my heart. It is the driving force that keeps me alive, that courses blood through my veins and resurrects my soul from the depths of apathy. And although very seriously doubt I will be able to come anywhere near meeting, knowing, and loving everyone, I do not think, even through all the discouragement that this will stop me from knowing and loving every person I meet. I do not know that I could ever stop without dying because this part of me simply IS. And when something simply is, there's no fighting it.

Musings Regarding Clouds and the Properties of Thoughts

This is an excerpt from something I wrote a few weeks ago, 35,000 feet in the air on an airplane.   

There is a strange conundrum involved with openmindedness - if your mind is too open, every thing, every value, every philosophical concept, every image and memory, all your reasons and your emotions and your logic will simply lift up and drift away (for thoughts are light, you see - lighter than air - they're what keep you from sinking to the depths of the earth). Suddenly, with your mind open, you'll have nothing left, your head will be an empty pool, left to dry in the desert sun. You'll be a hollow, echoing shell. 

So what, you ask, is the solution? Keep some things locked away in the closet of your soul. Figure out what it is that you must believe in, what your rules are, your non-negotiables, establish yourself to yourself, and then lock them away where no one can touch them or disturb them. Take them out - it's important to not let them collect dust - use them, exercise them, walk them or drive them or throw balls to them and watch them play fetch, but always always hold on to them, and always put them back. 

And when someone challenges you, when somebody, somehow, damages or disables one of those prized possessions, or when you suddenly discover that the sky is actually green rather than blue, when you find (or when someone abruptly points it out to you) that you were wrong, that there's an error or a fallacy, exchange the thought. Take the old one out, throw it away let it float in your brain with a question mark, re-gift it to someone else, or drop it off on the street corner. But never ever let that closet find itself empty. Never put everything out with question marks all at once. For if you don't have anything locked away, if you don't have anything you don't unquestionably believe in (even if you might be wrong), you can't think. And if you can't think, you can't exist. And once you lose your existence, how do you regain it?

***********************************************************

Clouds are such unique and invigorating forces of nature - they appear soft, cushion-y, wispy things of fantasy, of dreams, of heaven and imagination. They appear as distant rescuers, promises of greener, more fruitful tomorrows. They appear as funny shapes, as shade on warm days, as gloom, as anger, as relief. They can be ominous, looming things, promises of danger and fear and destruction. They begin as invisible droplets, building and moving and building and moving offering everything and nothing to those below. Growing exactly where God intended into grand and enormous, marvelous beings with a depth and a width and a purpose and a personality. And then, exactly at God's design, they drop when and where and exactly how much they're supposed to. The clouds cry their lamentations to the heavens and the earth and Hades, and mourn the passing of time, the loss of a loved one, the turbulence movement brings. And then they disappear, lingering no longer than necessary, no longer than they are supposed to, and move on. The shadows linger a moment longer, and then those too, are gone. The only memory of the cloud is that the grass smiles and stands a bit straighter, dressed in it's best, most colorful outfit. 

Perhaps we should be more like clouds