Because I blog about books sometimes, I can access NetGalley, where you can request books that are about to be released. This can only be a good thing. A copy gets sent off to my kindle, where I sit myself down with a good coffee and read away. One of the greatest things about this is that there is far less hype. You don't get to see the fancy colour cover or the book jacket picture of the author. I don't even get the bio of the writer. I just get the text.
This is all a very good thing - because as I found out after I finished this book, there is a lot of online dialogue about Tovar Cerulli and his views. Of course! After all, the business of eating - what we should eat, where it comes from, who should be eating it - is one thing that is always guaranteed to set online forums, blogs and social media aflame.
This book is about one man who grows up with a family who are hunters and fishers. By the age of twenty however, he is a vegan. He eats this way for many years, marries a lovely wife, and lives happily. Then he begins to question his ethics around food. He begins to see hunting and fishing as an ethical possibility. So, he goes back to eating meat. At the same time he starts hunting and fishing again.
It is an uneasy book, and a brave one. Regardless of what we think of this man's decisions, his heart is on the page. I would urge to not to dismiss it because you feel your opinions are already fixed. In many ways the author is hard on himself, questioning every motivation in his journey, considering every consequence.
The Mindful Carnivore is a book about complacency. We are complacent and therefore complicit in the way that meat, and animal products make it to our tables. As a vegetarian, this book made me reflect, why am I on this path? What am I really supporting when I am drinking milk and eating eggs? I think the author would consider it a compliment to know that this book made me consider becoming vegan once more.
This book was also about what it means to be a man. The author has several significant relationships with male figures in the book - Uncles, friends, his Dad. These men are seen to hunt animals with an ethical perspective. They are seen to hunt in harmony with nature, and to hunt only what they wish to eat. It's a very manly activity, although the author points out that occasionally, hunters are women too.
It was also about the relationship that humans have with guns. In Australia, I don't know anyone with a gun, and I've never seen a real one, except for on the hips of Police. So the concept of taking a gun and killing a creature is pretty weird to me. Maybe this whole concept will read differently in America?
Over Christmas, my brother in law said to me across the table, "You've got those teeth you've got for a reason! You're supposed to eat meat." He smiled in satisfaction and leaned back in this chair. As everyone knows, and this book takes care to consider, it's a lot more complicated than that.
I am having that day where all I feel is embarrassment and regret.
Not just the kind of regret where I drank too many beers, became chatty about a world of personal things, and ended up revealing information to a person I will never almost certainly see again. Or the kind where the child runs around and around the house looking for that toy that makes all that noise but I have secretly put it in the bin because it gives me a headache.
I'm talking about the kind of feeling where you are walking along, and you take a sharp intake of breath as your brain hits upon a painful humiliation. You are practically wincing with the memory of what you did. You can't believe it! It doesn't fit with your view of yourself at all.
In fact, if people knew about that thing, they may really take a step back and say, whaaaa?!? Are you sure you did that?? That doesn't sound like you.
But secretly, it is you. It it is completely and utterly YOU.
I like to believe I am happy, friendly and completely, you know, awesome. Blogs help us feel that way. You can talk about yourself all day long and nobody gets to say ANYTHING!
But then you have a day like this, which knocks you back on your arse and makes you say, okay, alright, I'm not all that. I'm basically like Bender without the moral to the story. (Not that I don't love Bender, because I do. I'm only human.)
So what am I regretting? What is giving me this feeling?
- So many fights with my stepdaughter where I was wrong. And acted wrongly.
- The times in the past I slept with people that I shouldn't have and messed up their hearts. And I was not honourable.
- The fact that I am sometimes horribly homophobic and hate myself, even as I am pretending its okay to make jokes about me being gay. And I participate in my own oppression. This makes it all the more difficult for others who are gay.
- Sometimes I defend people and their opinions when really what I need to say is,
"just stop talking because what you are saying is not okay."
And many, many more. Sometimes I am so caught in these spirals I spend time saying under my breath, stopitstopitstopit! And mentally hitting myself with sticks.
So today I am instead trying to say breathebreathebreathe - these things happened, they were things. They were just things. It isn't happening right now. This is all just experiences. I am practicing the art of letting go.
And I guess the other thing to keep saying is, this is not final. Maybe by talking all of this through I will be able to loosen my grip and let go that idea of "this is me" and "I am like this" and maybe open new possibilities for who I could become.
It's a good time to remake myself, I guess. Now I just need to work out who I want to become, and hope its not like who I have been.
this has nothing to do with anything except that dogs are excellent.
This is a little dog who lives at the local post office. She sleeps on the bottom shelves amongst the packages. Sometimes she moves a bit and will sleep in the recycling box!
Here's something weird. Last night I dreamt vividly.
I dreamt I approached huge wooden gates which were covered in gold designs. I was there because I somehow had the opportunity to meet Ani Pema Chodron, and I was so beside myself that I was fighting back tears. I was trying to call my friend, and leaving her these voicemail messages like, "ohmigodyouwon'tbelievewhatshappening" kind of thing. The amazing anticipation was thrilling through my body, and I remember thinking, I hope she doesn't mind I don't know how to bow properly, or anything! I hope she doesn't mind I am so new at everything!
A Nun met me at the gates and walked me through a beautiful garden. There were several large wooden buildings, and I looked around in awe. The trees were green and bright, and there were fir trees around. It was misty but not cold.
Finally we came to a low building, which was practically back at the start of the path, just near the gates. I was ushered in. I was ready to bow low, tears were in my eyes, I was in awe. When I looked up I was shocked to see a hospital bed. Ani Pema was dying.
She looked over at me. Her face was gaunt and pale. She smiled and said, "oh there you are!" I looked at the Nuns around her, who were attending her. I wasn't sure I should be there. But Ani Pema smiled again and I came close.
Suddenly she was in pain, and then she moved about in agony. Her frame was tiny in the bed, and she threw an arm around my neck, perhaps in panic? I whispered to her and spoke gently. I told her, I am going to do tonglen for you, and I held her and began to breathe for her. Her eyes opened, and she said, Tonglen! As if to say, yes, I remember now, and I will do that too.
She didn't see me any more after that, because she was going inside to die. Her eyes were open, and she looked about wildly, but did not see. I stayed with her, present, open and just being there.
As it was near the end different people began to come in. I thought to move away but she held me still. One young woman and her boyfriend came in. I wondered if the young woman was her daughter. The young man started to tell others nearby -what was the big deal, it was only one woman. A Nun who stood near Ani Pema rebuked him sharply, saying, don't you say that in this room! Don't you dare say that! I was angry as well, saying to the young man, have you even read any of her books?! The young man shrugged and looked away.
I continued to care for her. I didn't know what to do but I just started getting on with it. I was open. I felt that Ani Pema started reliving memories of her past, joyful ones, sad ones. I stayed there with her.
I woke up then. I don't know what it means. Except that of course, my mother died. And last night as I went to sleep I remembered that just after my Mother died her skin was still warm. Then even half an hour later, she was cooler, and cooler still.
My friend has a wonderful phrase. It is "what am I now called to do?" I ask myself that most days, through the fog of grief. Is it possible that this experience I have had might support me to help others? How can I be of benefit?
And also - what would it be like if we could treat every dying soul like they were our Teachers? Like they were our own Mothers?
