My boyfriend and I decided to throw an impromptu 4th of July BBQ for some friends last Saturday: green bean salad, grilled potatoes, sweet corn, burgers & hot dogs – the works. Naturally I brought veggie burgers for myself; I committed to a meat-free diet when I started my teacher training and haven’t had red meat or poultry since, though I occasionally eat fish and imagine I would die without cheese. And even though meat was never a big part of my diet, it’s been really hard. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve craved a juicy, medium-rare filet mignon, simply dressed in its own grilling juices with buttery mash and sautéed greens…mmmm…meat fantasy….
So like I said, it’s been rough. I employed lots of tricks to keep myself from breaking my vow, and I got particularly good at imagining horribly disgusting things, like teeth & spines, hiding in meat products, or my puppy ground up in whatever I wanted. It was pretty effective. On my best days, I felt lots of pride that I wasn’t contributing to an industry notorious for its contribution to suffering – from the animals slaughtered to the meat industry’s detrimental effect on the environment to the heart disease epidemic sweeping the country. On my worst days, I would eat lots of cheese and watch Food Network and get the meat sweats and cry.
So we’re sitting in the park on Saturday and suddenly I say to myself “You know what, self? I want a burger. And I’m gonna have one.” And I did.
I tried to eat extra-mindfully, tasting the salty-charred-spiced-juiciness of each bite, feeling the way the texture changed between my teeth, noticing the beautiful colors inside. I tried to really appreciate each moment of the experience, a practice I should employ more often. It was a pretty good burger. Not the best I’ve ever had (have you tried the one at L’Express?!), but it was good.
Happily, my Independence Day burger didn’t result in a meat binge or me getting sick or me hating myself. But it has made me reevaluate my feelings about vegetarianism and ahimsa (non-harming).
There are a handful of annoying gnats that have gotten past the riddled-with-holes window screens in my apartment. My instinct is to swat them away, naturally, but lately I’ve been taking the time to blow gently in their direction to get them out of my face and, as much as I want to, I don’t clap them between my hands or smack them against the wall. The experience encourages the same feelings I have every time I choose not to eat meat: satisfaction in my self-control & resistance to violence, a rising sense of fuzzy live-and-let-live-ness…
What does it all mean? I’m not sure I’ll be eating meat again anytime soon, though I feel my reasons for refraining changing the more I try to nail them down. Sometimes I feel like I’m just poking the practice with a stick until I figure out where its edges are (nowhere), if there are holes in it (no), when it will give in to my prodding (never). But somewhere between not eating meat, having a burger, and not killing bugs, I’m engaging directly with ahimsa, and that…well, that makes me feel one step closer to figuring it all out.
This is a great entry, and I have similar feelings toward meat.
I’ve been vegetarian for the past year and a half (couldn’t go vegan because of…. you know death by lack of… cheese), and it was REALLY hard the first few months. It’s certainly not for everyone and might not be good for everyone’s bodies.
After a few months of no-meat, my reasons for my vegetarianism became clearer and more meaningful to me. And with that meaning, the cravings for a burger finally went away! Success! And I feel healthier too. But one’s diet is very personal, so no lecturing from me… just to say that the cravings do go away. And that is all for this way-too-long comment!!