Coping as an Animal Advocate: How to take care of ourselves and remain effective (PART II)

LAUGH

Whereas I think it’s really important to feel the sorrow and embrace it as part of the whole package – the whole package of being human, of living life, and of being an activist, I think it’s also really important to laugh. I watch a lot of movies, many of them pretty melancholy, but I also watch comedies. I really do. Now, I’ve been accused of being a bit of a film snob, and frankly, I don’t mind. There are just so many amazing films out there, and I don’t like wasting my time with the fluff that’s churned out. Having said that, David and I rent and own a lot of stuff that makes us laugh – for us, it’s British TV shows. I’ve a watched every episode of every season of the Blackadder series like a million times each; it’s quite pathetic. I also adore Jeeves and Wooster (based on the P.G. Wodehouse comic novels, which are also fantastic. I mean if you want to laugh out loud while reading. You absolutely have to read P.G. Wodehouse). We watch Keeping Up Appearances, Absolutely Fabulous, French & Saunders, Fawlty Towers – although Fawlty Towers actually stresses me out a bit – John Cleese is INSANE in it. Anyway, the bottom line is I just know when I’m in the mood for something light or heavy. And I listen to myself.

I think spending time with people who make you laugh is really important, especially when we need a charge – don’t spend time with people who drain your energy; do something t and be with people who replenish you. This is just another reason for having like-minded people in your life. Scheduling down time. Playing games. Hiking. Going to museums. Just spending time away from everything that makes you sad. Now please understand, all this is coming from someone who really struggles with this balance thing. This stuff is on my mind 24/7, and because I work from home and struggle with my own guilt when I’m NOT doing something, I’m speaking from experience when I say it’s important to do all of these things. It took me a long time to admit I’m a bit of a workaholic, and sometimes it takes physical pain for me to stop working. I’ve recently come down with some serious wrist pain, which has led me to change the way I do some things, and it’s a little scary to know that I drove myself to physical injury. My more even-minded friends – and husband – remind me that it’s not optimum to wait until I’m in pain to stop working, so I’m learning to do all this stuff, too. Burn out is all too common in animal activists, and that’s not a place you want to get to.

The problem is I feel best – emotionally – when I’m doing SOMETHING to end the suffering of animals, when I’m doing SOMETHING to raise awareness of their suffering, and doing SOMETHING to empower people to live according to their own truth and compassion. But I’ll be super honest with you. Some of my workaholism stems from the pangs of guilt I have felt when I’m NOT doing these things. I’ve thought, “who am I to relax and enjoy life when there is so much suffering out there?” And though that might sound noble, I really do believe now that a) that sounds too much like martyrdom and b) I will be no good to the animals or to other people if I don’t take care of myself. I mean I reeeally believe that now. But it took a long time to get there. So, I really do strive for balance now and know that the healthier I am physically and emotionally, the better representative I am for animals.

ACTIVISM

So, having established the fact that I encourage finding balance in our lives as advocates, I want to talk briefly about the main thing that keeps me going day in and day out: I’m an activist! I absolutely don’t have time and the animals don’t have time for me to get mired down in despair. They need me to act for them, to speak for them, to be their ambassador, and this is what gets me up every morning. But that’s not the whole truth – the fact is I wouldn’t be able to keep going if I didn’t have hope. I mean I literally spring out of bed every morning, anxious and excited to start my day (annoyed at needing to sleep at all), so I can speak on behalf of animals and spread the word that needs to be spread.

When people ask me what they can do to help – what type of activism they can get involved in, there are soooooooo many options, but because being vegan is such a powerful means for preventing suffering, I think it’s so exciting that by just making different food choices, different choices for our clothing and shoes, for our entertainment, for the cleaning and personal products we buy, we can have such a huge impact. So even if you don’t have time to be an activist in the formal sense, you ARE making a difference – Beatrize - by choosing a compassionate lifestyle. This stuff is contagious! We’re not talking about thousands of people – we’re talking about millions.

If you want very specific things you can do, I highly, highly encourage you to visit the website http://www.strikingattheroots.com/. It is the website of a new, fabulous book coming out in January 2008, written by activist extraordinaire, Mark Hawthorne, an amazing friend to the animals and a very good friend of mine. His book is called Striking at the Roots: A Practical Guide to Animal Activism, and it’s the most comprehensive book ever written on the many ways you can act on behalf of animals – not just animals killed for human consumption but animals exploited in every way in our society.

In the meantime, I’ll tell you what I think is the best form of activism for you: whatever it is you’re good at and whatever it is you love. I happen to think this is the key to not just activism but the answer to “what am I supposed to do in the world.” I don’t believe it’s natural to have this separation between the work we’re supposed to do in the world and the way we’re supposed to make a living. I believe the work we’re supposed to do in the world should be an extension of our passion and our gifts. It’s such a cliché – but you know “do what you love and the money will follow.” Unfortunately, many of us get fed a bunch of lies that make us afraid to live our truth and manifest our gifts. In terms of activism, I do think certain types of activism are more effective than others, but the bottom line is you’re going to be the most effective if you’re really coming from a truthful and joyful place. Again, I don’t think we’re supposed to be martyrs; I think we’re supposed to be at our highest when we’re speaking our truth, and if we’re finding that we’re using a method that doesn’t really reflect our joy or truth, then perhaps we need to find a method that works for us.

The work I’m doing now really is similar to the type of activism I did early on. Writing has always been something I loved doing and had a knack for, so my very early activism involved me making little brochures and flyers about different issues – early on they were about puppy mills, vivisection (i.e. animals as research tools), and vegetarianism. This was before the Internet, so I typed the names and telephone numbers of various organizations people could get in touch with to learn more. I still have these early brochures and flyers – they were pretty cute – and I used to walk around the mall (I’m from NJ, okay?) and hand out these flyers, especially the ones about puppy mills because there was a pet store in the mall. I was scared to death doing this. I didn’t know any other activists, but I just needed to do this to inform people and to feel like I was doing something. When I left grad school, and my fellow graduates talked about what we were going to do, I remember saying “I don’t know what it’s going to look like, but know it has something to do with writing, teaching, and raising awareness about animal rights. I just didn’t know how it was going to look, so I kept trying a number of different things and listening to what I heard was most needed. That’s how I started teaching cooking. It wasn’t something I had planned, but it was a gap that needed to be filled, and I did enjoy cooking, so it made sense. Anyway, you get the idea. More important than the answers we have are the questions we ask. I just kept asking “what do I love and what am I good at?” and I kept getting direction about what I needed to do. I worked for many years building Compassionate Cooks while I worked out other organizations. When the time was right, I left (yes, it was scary), and I was able to do this work full-time – I feel so blessed, but it didn’t happen over night. I worked hard and still work hard to make this happen.

For those of you who don’t do this work full-time, please don’t think that’s absolutely necessary, either. There are so many ways to be effective advocates in the framework of our current lives. Plus, you can have more than one passion. So, it’s not like only those of us doing this work as our vocation are the most effective ones. In fact, I think in many ways you’re doing the harder work. Admittedly, I live in a bit of a bubble. My husband is vegan. All of our friends – well most of them – and all of my closest friends – are vegan, and I’m immersed in and carried by the hope I see every day, because of people like you. I’m not making that up. For those of you who are surrounded by non-vegan co-workers, friends, colleagues, spouses, etc., this work can be very taxing, which is why I come back to this mantra again and again: Seek out the hope. It’s absolutely there.

I get to hear from people every day who are changing themselves, changing their minds, changing their habits, and changing the world, and this is why I created The Joyful Vegan blog – joyfulvegan.wordpress.com. This blog is really YOUR blog, because it’s full of YOUR stories; it’s so special to me, because I get to share with the world (with your permission, of course) how special you all are. Please send me your stories of transformation so you can give hope to others.
And if that doesn’t do it for you, I’d like to end this episode with an excerpt from a wonderful essay by Vegan Outreach co-founder Matt Ball. Susan, the sponsor of today’s episode wanted me to recommend this essay, and today’s topic was a perfect time to do so. Plus, it honors Susan and the work she’s been doing leafleting. Leafleting really is a wonderful, effective, fulfilling, and vital form of activism, and I encourage you to get involved. You can visit http://www.veganoutreach.org/ for ways to volunteer for them and to read Matt’s full essay, called A Meaningful Life. Here’s just an excerpt.

"Is the situation hopeless? If you look at the big picture, I do believe that there is reason for optimism. Indeed, anyone interested in creating a fundamental change for the future is advised to take the long view — at least longer than the next year, or even the next decade. While it is frustrating how slow the pace of progress can seem to us, the rate of change has been unprecedented in the past few centuries.

As Bruce Friedrich of PETA points out:

Socrates, considered the father of philosophical thought, was teaching more than twenty-five hundred years ago. It was thousands of years later that we saw the beginnings of our democratic system. Not until the 19th century was slavery abolished in the developed world. Only in the last century was child labor ended, child abuse criminalized, women allowed to vote, and minorities granted wider rights.

When viewed in this context, it seems clear that today we have the great and singular opportunity to make the Economist (Magazine’s) prediction come true:

Historically, man has expanded the reach of his ethical calculations, as ignorance and want have receded, first beyond family and tribe, later beyond religion, race, and nation. To bring other species more fully into the range of these decisions may seem unthinkable to moderate opinion now. One day, decades or centuries hence, it may seem no more than "civilized" behavior requires.

Is this enough to keep an activist going, day in and day out, when trying to do the hard and often abstract work of promoting veganism (especially while not surrounded by other activists to provide support)? We aren't robots. We each want to be happy.

Yet our desire for happiness is, I believe, the answer to the final challenge.

Ultimately, happiness isn't to be found in "stuff." While the U.S. is the richest country on earth, Americans aren't the happiest people on earth. The phrase isn't "the pursuit of happiness" for nothing! As biological creatures, it is our nature to always desire more, to constantly strive for a greater share, regardless of what we already have. Over the millennia, those creatures who were satisfied were erased from the gene pool by our unfulfilled ancestors, leaving us with a nature that pursues happiness but isn't able to acquire it.

Where does this leave us? The best answer I've found is: happiness is the result of a meaningful life, and meaning comes not from things, but from accomplishment.

I believe that meaningful accomplishment comes from living life beyond ourselves, viewing our existence beyond the immediate. Doing my thoughtful best to make the world a better place is as meaningful a life as I can imagine.

To paraphrase Martin Luther King, Jr.:

The arc of history is long

And ragged

And often unclear

But ultimately

It progresses towards justice." (End of Matt's excerpt)

Every time we speak up for animals and act on behalf of those who need us most, we are part of that progress. I also believe the creation of the world we want starts with our thoughts. If we believe that injustice will prevail, let me just say I don’t share those thoughts, and those negative thoughts compete with the hopeful thoughts that justice will prevail. Don’t underestimate the power of thought; it shapes our perceptions, it determines our actions, and it creates the world we live in. That’s just my opinion; I could be wrong. And if I am, I have nothing to lose by thinking this way; but if I’m right, there WILL come a time when look back upon our treatment of non-human animals and say “what were we thinking??”

Coping as an Animal Advocate: How to take care of ourselves and remain effective (PART I)

I'm continually amazed and touched by the emails I receive from people, who share their stories of transformation and express their enthusiasm and joy about becoming awakened - about becoming vegan. But I also hear their sorrow and their weariness.

In a recent podcast episode, I addressed how to cope with the pain of the awareness of animal suffering and also how to be an effective advocate for animals, because I think these things go hand in hand. I address some of this in an earlier episode called Taking it All In, so I encourage people to check that out first. Among the many emails I receive, two recently stood out, inspiring me to revisit this topic.

One email was from Misty, who wrote “I am a new vegan and have literally been attacked in all sorts of verbal arguments. Everything from - no wonder you look sick (which I don't) to why don't you care about babies? You have given me so much ammo so that I don't have to resort to arguments. But I have a question. It is overwhelming all of the information I have learned. About animal suffering, and the humans that suffer along that are involved in the killing and processing of animals. How do you deal with that awareness? I lived in misinformation for so long - or maybe it was denial - and now that I know - I have a very hard time dealing with it. I feel anxious or depressed and try to stretch myself to do every little thing I could possibly do to reduce my impact, or tell someone about it.”

Another email was from Beatriz: "Today I listened in incredible pain to your podcast on fishing bycatch.... As an avid scuba diver, who has spent many hours underwater sharing the wonderful ocean with beautiful marine species, I cannot tell you how excruciatingly depressing it was for me to hear you quote the agonising facts and figures on over fishing, bycatch killings and atrocious effects that the fishing industry is having on the wonderful lives below the surface. Nothing on your podcast was new to me. What really pained was to realise what little difference I, as an individual, and a few thousands like me, can make to this dismal situation. I truly feel that what I do, what you do, what many like us try to do, has hardly any true effect on the atrocious actions that the fishing industry and governments carry though every day. I feel like we are as small flea trying to shift an elephant. How do you do it, Colleen? Where do you get the energy to continue fighting on every day? Don't you get depressed and feel like giving up because you feel that your efforts hardly make a difference? I certainly feel like that. I will of course continue with my efforts every single day, but I have resigned myself to think that whatever I chose to do, the world around me will continue to charge ahead with its destruction.”

So, these two emails compelled me to address this issue again. I’m sure you can see why. It just pains me so much to hear that kind of despair and frustration. And as usual, I don’t have all the answers. All I can do is share with you what *I* do and have done to cope in this crazy, mixed up world that seems bent on destroying the lives and homes of everyone who isn’t human – and some who are.

CRY

First things first. I cry. I absolutely let myself feel this stuff. It probably helps that I don’t smoke or drink, so I feel this stuff pretty acutely. There’s no numbing or avoiding this pain. A really lovely woman named Victoria – a new vegan – who recently wrote to me phrased this really beautifully (and in fact you can read Victoria’s story at the Joyful Vegan blog). She wrote, “Right now, sorrow for the creatures who endure unthinkable suffering is large for me. But I am grateful for the sorrow, which is real, and is part of awakening further to life.” I don’t know if this makes sense, but there’s something comforting about being able to feel that grief, to feel that pain, to feel that sorrow, because I would choose that over oblivion any day.

Ironically, my favorite books, music, and films tend to be somewhat – okay VERY – melancholy. It’s just what I’m drawn to. I really like stories about people struggling for justice, which means you’re gonna see a lot of injustice in the telling. These stories make me sad, but they also motivate me. That doesn’t mean I watch sad movies JUST so I can feel the sorrow, cause Lord knows I don’t need anymore reasons than I already have. But I guess I just feel okay – I feel comfortable enough to feel the sadness.

KNOW YOUR LIMITATIONS

This also doesn’t mean I watch sad movies all the time, and it certainly doesn’t mean I watch the videos of animal torture all the time. Please don’t get me wrong. That’s not what I’m saying at all. As I said, I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just telling you what I do, and I know you’re smart enough to filter through it and take from it what works for you and leave behind the rest. I absolutely listen to myself when it comes to deciding what I can take on any given day. There are some videos I wait to watch, because I might be too vulnerable or sensitive some days, and there are some I haven’t brought myself to watch yet.. I have a VERY visual mind, so I just have to be careful. For instance, I haven’t been able to watch Earthlings yet – a documentary on animal exploitation narrated by Joaquin Phoenix. I hear it’s excruciatingly painful but also VERY effective. I know I’ll watch it someday; in fact I own it, but I just have to be in a good place before I do.

Now do I think I’m less of an activist for not having watched these videos? No. I’m no less effective for not having watched these particular videos. I just ordered a new DVD of a film made in 1981 called The Animals Film. It was narrated by Julie Christie and receives rave reviews – not just by activists – but by film critics as well. It was made in the U.K., which is where the western animal rights movement started, so it’s no surprise it received the critical attention it did, but I plan on watching this film. Perhaps it helped that I watched the trailer on the website, which you can visit (it’s http://www.theanimalsfilm.com/). You can watch the trailer there or buy it as well. Now, I watched the trailer, and it was very painful. I cried. But then I just got to work. So, to answer Beatriz – I don’t know how I do it. I just know that I can’t but act when I see this stuff or hear about this stuff. When I hear about the horror it doesn’t make me want to crawl up under the covers; it makes me want to shout from the rooftops. I think I may have mentioned I used to do a lot of Street TV, where I would bring a TV to the streets of Berkeley, play PETA’s video Meet Your Meat and hand out Why Vegan pamphlets. I’ve seen that video a million times, and though you can never get “used to” seeing something like that, I have to say it does get easier. Remember, we’re pretty amazing creatures when it comes to denial and compartmentalizing our feelings and cutting off our emotions. So, for the purposes of that type of activism, it’s a survival mechanism, a defense mechanism for me to turn it off a bit so I can be effective. It’s like when I record some reeeally painful things so that I can share them with you. I HAVE to distance myself a bit; otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do this work. Then, when I need to, I have a good cry. In fact, if you wanna know a secret, I usually cry once or twice when I’m working on this podcast. Then, I finish – and get to work. :)

But – everyone’s different. A really good friend of mine – one of my best friends – did Street TV with me a few times, and on the night we were going to do one, she called to say she didn’t think she was able to do it but then she decided to do it and she wanted to tell me why. She said she thought that the images produced trauma in people –in passersby, in children, in anyone who saw those images and she didn’t know that she felt comfortable being part of creating trauma. BTW, my friend works in the mental health field, so she’s a witness to trauma every day. Anyway, but then she had a revelation – that those very same images were very traumatic for her and that it was that very trauma that opened up so much for her and led her to become vegan in order to reduce animal suffering. I thought that was a really wise perspective – of course this stuff is traumatic, and it’s what many of us needed to knock ourselves into consciousness and become part of the solution. So I dug a little deeper. Part of the word trauma stems from the Indo-European word meaning “to turn.” So, I thought that was interesting – in a sense, the trauma of the truth literally turns us – changes us. For the better, in my opinion.

Now, I do think it’s necessary to consider the energy levels with which we come into this world. I mean I do think there are things we can do to raise our existing energy levels, but some of us just have higher or lower energy levels than others. I’ve always had an extremely high energy level, so I have to push myself reeeally hard to get drained. I’ve always been action-oriented and a problem-solver, so I actually thrive on being active – on being part of the solution. So, when I watch these videos or read about the atrocities, I really do have a good cry, but then I feel even more motivated to make a change. In fact, that’s probably one of the dangers of watching this stuff for me – I wind up working harder, which is not always good, because I struggle with finding balance all the time.

So, just to wrap up this point: I think it’s important to be really clear about what your limitations are and to know where your line is. I hate to think Beatriz became depressed after my podcast, so maybe if you know an episode is about a topic that might cause you pain, then maybe it’s better to avoid it. If you feel like reading more or witnessing more cruelty would actually DRAIN your energy, then don’t do it. Absolutely don’t do it. If you feel like you’re okay with it sometimes but not others – then just be really honest with yourself about when those times are. Being an advocate for animals doesn’t mean that you become a martyr. That’s not what this is about at all. It’s about being a voice for animals. And part of that means taking care of yourself. If you’re unwell, or unhealthy, or angry, or depressed, or in despair, or without joy, you’re helping neither yourself nor are you helping animals. Know thyself. And know thy limitations.

Like Animals

I feel very strongly about how our use of language reveals our prejudices and biases, particular when it comes to the oppressed, whether the oppressed be human or nonhuman. In fact, the language of oppression is fundamental to the oppression itself. In order to establish your superiority over a group, first you need to subordinate that group, and one of the basic ways we do this is through the use of language.

The Nazis knew this well. As part of their “Final Solution,” a euphemism itself for the extermination of an entire people, they used language that demonized and dehumanized the Jews and other "enemies" of the State.” The Nazis portrayed the Jews as 'parasites,' and 'disease.’ They also called them pigs, dogs, vermin, and swine.

With the subjugation and suppression of African Americans came a language which labeled them 'chattels,' 'property,' and 'beasts.’ Even earlier than this were descriptions of Africans by the Europeans who called them brutes, monkeys, animals, and apes.

Similarly, the extermination of a significant population of "American Indians" was accompanied by the use of dehumanizing language defining them as "non-persons," "savages," and "Satan's partisans." The were also called ugly, filthy, inhuman beasts, swine, pigs, dogs, baboons, gorillas, and orangutans.

Belittling humans by calling them animals isn’t reserved only for certain groups of humans. In fact, any human who acts unfavorably or violently towards another human being is called “an animal.” It’s ironic to me, because animals don’t do to each other – or to humans – any of the horrific things we do to each other – and to other animals – for fun, for pleasure. When people act violently towards one another, it seems to me that it would be more accurate to say they’re acting like humans. But, of course we don’t do that, because we’re the almighty human being, whose primary fault that separates us from all the other animals – in my opinion – is our arrogance. It is our arrogance that enables us to subordinate, exploit, abuse, and kill animals, and it is our arrogance that enables us to justify this behavior on the basis of – well, our arrogance. On the basis of what we call our human right to do so. Right, that’s called arrogance.

And so we set up this system so that humans are superior, and animals are inferior, and so if we want to deem another group inferior, all we need to do is call them “animals” as the ultimate insult. One of the problems is that we are denying our own animal-ness; we don’t like to remember that we, too, are animals, and so in reality, though we shouldn’t mind being called what we are (i.e. animals), we do mind, because non-human animals have been denigrated, beaten down, insulted, and exploited for so many centuries that it is the worse thing to be called “an animal.”

I believe that the denigration of any people as a type of animal is a prelude to violence and genocide. Many anthropologists believe that the cruel forms of domesticating animals at the dawn of our agricultural society – about ten thousand years ago – created the model for the exploitation of other human beings. In other words, in domesticating, confining, and controlling other animals, we firmly planted violence into the heart of human culture.

What really breaks my heart is when I hear people from groups who have themselves been oppressed usurp the language of the oppressor and refer to animals in a derogatory way. I was watching Spike Lee’s documentary “When the Levees Broke” about the inexcusable response to the victims of the floods caused by Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans, and a few of the people being interviewed talked about how difficult it was to see their fellow human beings being treated like animals, like cattle, reminiscent of what it was like when their people were slaves. The implication is that treating animals in an insulting or abusive way is acceptable but treating human animals that way is unacceptable. To my mind, neither is acceptable, and more than that, the acceptability of one leads to the acceptability of the other. The abuse of one leads to the abuse of the other. Here’s what freed slave Frederick Douglass had to say about that.

He wrote, “There is no denying that slavery had a direct and positive tendency to produce coarseness and brutality in the treatment of animals, especially those most useful to agricultural industry. The master blamed the overseer, the overseer the slave, and the slave the horses, oxen, and mules, and violence fell upon the animals as a consequence.”

In order to prove your superiority, you have to establish that you’re superior over someone else. You have to set it up so that there is someone underneath you. It’s not enough to just say “I rule!” “I’m the best!” You have to rule over something, over someone. And so humans have created a very convenient dichotomy between ourselves and the rest of the natural world. If we could tame the wild, then we do rule – literally. And so that’s what we’ve done. Animals have been put under our heels and are at the mercy of humans and our centuries-old inferiority complex. That’s what it comes down to. It comes down to arrogance and lust for power. And in order to keep up this pretense, we have to control the public perception so that it’s aligned with us. This is where our use of language is particularly helpful. The other way this is done is through fear.

By painting a picture of a savage, wild, vicious, unpredictable, violent animal kingdom, who is in every way inferior to the civilized, intelligent, rational, predictable human, you convince people that to NOT control, tame, and kill animals is a very dangerous prospect. It’s set up such that it seems like we’re actually protecting one another from the dangerous, wild animal. And then we create even sillier justifications for our speciesism by saying that those crazy animal rights activists want rights for animals at the expense of humans – as if we’re asking for driver’s licenses for dogs and political positions for cats.

In reality, it is not our fear that animals will take over the world that compels us to keep them down. It’s our fear that we won’t be able to keep controlling the world if we stopped enslaving them. It’s fear – not strength – that drives us to eat animals, make them perform for us, give them diseases and break their bodies in the name of science, wear their skins, wear their fur, put them in cages. It doesn’t take strength and courage to do these things. It’s our fear that we’re not adequate enough – just as humans – not better but part of. Imagine that. Imagine a world where human beings were humble enough to recognize that we all play a part in this world. That we all contribute and that we don’t have to keep others down to demonstrate how strong we are. We have many, many other reasons to believe we’re strong. We are strong. But in our treatment of animals, we continually display how weak we are. We continually demonstrate the worst of what humans are capable of.

So in addition to painting animals as wild and dangerous, we say all sorts of other things about them, using ourselves as the barometer. They’re not intelligent like we are. They can’t empathize like we can. They don’t have the complexity of language we have. They don’t have the ability to reason like we can. They don’t have souls like we do. And all sorts of other nonsense to keep us propped up and to keep them down. The funny thing about all of this is that we’re writing this story. And as long as we want to keep the power we’ve created, we have to keep telling this story. But what would happen if we were to create a different set of criteria to judge the value of non-human animals? What if we stopped measuring them against humans, in which case they’ll always fall short. We’re the authors of this story.

What if our criteria were different? I mean imagine if we determined your worthiness by how fast you could run. On how high you could fly. On the ability to climb mountains without rope but only four hooves. Depending on who’s telling the story and what the focus is, there are so many ways in which animals are superior to humans, and I don’t mean that in such a way as to suggest that we should let non-human animals run for President (um…I take that back). But that is to say, if we changed the story, changed our criteria, and were willing to humble ourselves a little, our relationship with animals would be very different. We would be much happier. The Earth would be much healthier. And the animals would be at peace.

Now perhaps some of you are saying that I’m envisioning some Utopian society where lions starve rather than kill gazelle. If that’s what you think I’m saying, think again. There is no breach of ethics when a carnivore kills his prey. But there is a breach of ethics – our own ethics – to have the choice to kill or not to kill and to choose the former. To have the choice between hurting someone and not hurting someone and choosing the former. There is a breach of ethics in a thought system that believes everything and everyone is here for us.

There is an essay written by Laura Moretti I would like to share with you. It has been a favorite of mine for many years, and I hope you’ll appreciate it as much as I do. Laura Moretti is a long-time activist and writer. Her website is http://www.lauramoretti.info/, where you can read her work and see some really amazing photos and videos, including video of the replacement calves for dairy herds confined outside in little pens in 100-degree heat and some other videos. She’s also the publisher of Animals Voice Magazine at http://www.animalsvoice.com/, and I recommend you check out this information-packed website and subscribe to the magazine if you can.

Here is Laura’s essay called Like Animals:

"Why do you suppose you like animals so much?" was the million-dollar question put to me Christmas Eve (and one I hadn't provoked). I knew my family was expecting me to say something like, "I like animals because they're cute and cuddly and furry and fun to play with." But instead I said, "I like animals because they are honest."

My observation triggered a facetious comment from one of my brothers. “About what?"--as if honesty were merely about telling the truth, and everyone knows animals can't talk! His notation was met with hearty laughter; for once, they thought they'd repaid me for all the discomfort I'd caused them at other family gatherings.

"I like that animals don't pretend to be someone they're not," I continued in my reply, hushing the crowd. "To quote a phrase, 'Dogs don't lie about love.' Animals don't fake their feelings. I like that they're emotionally fearless."

We were lounging on sofas and armchairs after our feast and present opening. Coffee was being served, so I seized the opportunity. "I like animals," I added, "because they only take out of life what they need. They don't abuse their environment, annihilate species, pollute their water, contaminate the air they breathe. They don't build weapons of mass destruction and use them against others-particularly members of their own species. I like animals because they have no use for those things, or for war or terrorism. They don't build nations around genocide."

My uncle seemed momentarily lost in thought. He had been born and raised in New York City. "That's because they don't know any better," a brother-in-law argued. "They don't do those things because they don't know how."

"A pride of lions doesn't get together," I countered him, "and decide how to exterminate zebras-their very source of nourishment. I don't think it's because they don't know how. I think it's because it's counter-productive." They laughed. "

I also like animals," I continued," because they don't punish themselves for their perceived inadequacies. They don't dwell on things of the past, nor use them as excuses for behavior in the present. And they don't plan to live some day in the future, they live today, this moment, fully, completely, and purely. I like animals because they live their lives with so much more freedom than humans live theirs."

"That's because they don't think," one of my cousins offered.

"Is that the difference?" I wondered. "'I think therefore I'm cruel, destructive, insecure, abusive?' You meant to say they don't think the way we think." The room had become strangely quiet. I was amazed at how closely my family was listening, despite the occasional grunt to the contrary.

"I like animals because they don't bow down to imaginary gods they've created, nor annihilate each other in the name of those gods; gods, they say, who are all-knowing and all-loving and just. I like animals because they only know how to give unconditional love and implicit trust. I mean, animals either extend those things to you or they don't; there are no shades of gray. They have the best of what makes us human and, as one observer put it, "none of our vices.'" "And thank God," someone injected.

"Lastly," I added, remembering why I was an animal rights activist, "Animals are the most victimized living creatures on earth; more than children, more than women, more than people of color. Our prejudice enables us to exploit and use them, as scientific tools and expendable commodities, and to eat them. We do to them any atrocity our creative minds can summon. We justify our cruelties; we have to or we can't commit them. I like animals because they don't do to themselves or to others the things we do to them. And they don't make excuses for unethical actions because they don't commit unethical acts."

"And finally," I finished, "I like animals because they're not hypocrites. They don't say one thing and do another. They are, as I've said, honest. Animals-not humans-are the best this planet has to offer." And, interestingly enough, despite my soapbox rant, not a one of them made a snide comment or a hint of laughter. The conversation actually rolled into shared stories of animals they've known, stories of animal loyalty and intelligence, their humor and innocence. And it was me who'd become the listener with the occasional comment: "Now, if only humans could only be, well, like animals." And that is why I fight the good fight; I rise on behalf of the best among us.”

Active Listening

I think we have forgotten how to talk to one another. Certainly the anonymity of the Internet has contributed to this and has dulled our discourse, dehumanized our dialogue. We listen with divided attention, more interested in hearing our own voices and ready to respond with a defensive answer or a witty quip. This is particularly true when it comes to talking about vegetarianism. Thoughtless (i.e. "without thought") responses come flowing out of people's mouths when confronted with the idea of not eating once-alive, once-kicking animals. A dichotomy of good vs. bad is immediately imagined, and hackles are raised even before the bell goes off.

Communication is central to everything I do, as this sensitive subject requires special care. Admittedly, it is exhausting work - prepping for the cooking classes alone takes countless hours, and it is when the class is over that I am utterly spent - not because of the hours I've been on my feet - but because of the energy that goes into fostering a dialogue in each of my classes. I'm exhausted not just from talking but from listening. I absorb and honor every word and try to create a safe space for students to say what they need to. It takes energy to listen.

Every day, whether it's via email, in my classes, or on the street, I am asked the same questions over and over. (Every vegetarian knows what this is like.) But I try and treat each question as if it is being asked for the very first time. And you know what? It is. By that individual. I know that many people are hearing what I am saying - about veganism, about animals, about nutrition - for the very first time, and since we've all been brainwashed by the same machine, there is a relatively small pool of responses from which people draw.

You don't have to be an educator to honor the dialogue that I believe we all so desperately want. I know many vegetarians who are tired of answering the "protein question" or fielding justifications about eating animals. And I know it can be tiresome, but not only to I feel it is my responsbility to speak on behalf of the truth when asked about vegetarianism, I believe it is a breech of trust if I don't. I would be breeching the trust of the animals who need me as their voice, and I would be breeching the trust of the person asking the question who is trusting me with their fears or concerns or needs. I am compelled to answer with grace. I am expected to answer with truth. I am honored to answer at all.

This doesn't mean that the non-vegetarians are off the hook. Each one of us knows when we're asking a genuine question and seeking authenic dialogue or when we're merely spouting off judgments and trying to provoke anger. All of that is just based on fear - of hearing the truth, of having our own truth revealed to us, of being inspired to make a change. Each time we push away the truth about this issue, we're just delaying our own growth. It will happen eventually, so we may as well just jump in now. If we're not actively participating in life and all its complexities and pain and suffering, then we're just stagnant.

My husband and I regularly attend a Japanese Tea Ceremony, and one of the most valuable things that we've taken from it is the idea of "facing forward." During the ceremony, guests are expected to pay attention to every detail, to admire the scroll and the tea wares, to be fully present. Now, at home, whenever one of us feels the other is distracted when we want to say something, we ask the other person to please face forward. It's a much gentler way (and much more effective) than saying "you're not listening to me!"

So, I'll leave you with that thought. May we listen to each other with authenticity and respond with integrity. May we speak for truth. May we face forward and look directly into each other's eyes, directly into our own fears and embrace the joys and sorrows that come with living fully present and fully open.