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I’m a Carnivore and I’m OK With That . . . I Think

I’m a Carnivore and I’m OK With That . . . I Think

Last updated on: October 6, 2015 at 12:01 am by Barbara Falconer Newhall

I’m a Carnivore and I’m OK With That . . . I Think 2015-10-05T21:39:56-08:00 Barbara Falconer Newhall

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

The meat case of our local grocery store. Photo by Barbara Newhall

When our kids were little, the pediatrician once suggested we cut down the cypress tree in our back yard. Tests had shown that our son Peter was allergic to the ancient tree.

Jon and I thought about it. But not for long. No way would we cut down that cypress. It was magnificent – seven stories tall, with roots growing deep into the soil behind our house, and thick, graceful branches reaching around our deck.

That tree was a presence, a being. It had been there when we bought the house, it would be there when we left. We had no right to end its life. We’d find another way to address Peter’s allergies.

Munching on Lettuce That’s Still Alive

Like our cypress tree, a head of butter lettuce has a life, a fact driven home to me whenever I buy one of those fancy organic versions sold alive, roots still attached.

A cattle feed lot along Highway 5 in California. Photo by Barbara Newhall

I take the lettuce from its box, ponder the tender leaves and the roots still caked with soil, and think, “This plant isn’t dead yet. I’m about to rip off its roots and eat it alive.”

You can see where I’m going with this.

I don’t see a clear difference between slaughtering a pig and cutting down a seven-story tree. Nor between someone netting the wild salmon I eat for dinner and harvesting my breakfast oats. Faced with a choice between killing a pig and killing the tree in our backyard – I’d kill the pig. (Full disclosure: I’d have the pig slaughtered, just as I’d hire someone else to cut down the tree.)

Many people differentiate between plant and animal. A Buddhist might say one is sentient and the other lacks – what? The wind poppies growing in our front yard this spring opened their petals to the sun and radiated what felt to me like – a will to live, an intention to live.

Some perceive a hierarchy in living things. The more sentient the being (i.e. the more like us humans) the more valuable its life; a mammal is more valuable than a bird.

Eating Meat in Sikkim

But not everyone thinks that way. During a trip to Sikkim my husband and I engaged a Buddhist guide who told us, yes, many of the local people were vegetarians. But others occasionally ate meat.

“When they do,” he said, “they might slaughter a single ox instead of many chickens. One ox will feed as many people as a flock of chickens – but only one creature dies.”

We are all destined to die – the cypress tree, the pig, my breakfast oats, the chickens. But meanwhile we live, and in order to live, we eat. Humans and pigs eat other living things. And that has to be okay.

Carnivore, Vegetarian, Vegan, Fruitarian

The ethical high road might be to go, not vegetarian, not vegan, but fruitarian – living on fruits alone, consuming only the seed-bearing part of the plant not essential to its survival.

I for one am not willing to live the constricted life of a fruitarian. And I don’t think my

Artichokes stacked in our Whole Foods produce department. Photo by Barbara Newhall

body is set up to subsist on fruits alone, which is maybe too bad for all the turkeys and carrots and spinach I’ll be consuming until my own time comes to feed the worms. But that’s the way it is, and it has to be okay, it has to be ethical.

I care deeply about how farm animals are treated. I care about the toll our meat-eating habits take on the planet and our bodies. I don’t need slabs of meat on my plate, but I do like a little chicken broth in my lentil soup. And I try to stay aware of the creatures – the butter lettuce, the pig, the artichoke – whose lives have come to an end so that I can keep mine. For now.

Barbara Falconer Newhall is the author of “Wrestling with God: Stories of Doubt and Faith” from Patheos Press. A version of this post appeared on her website BarbaraFalconerNewhall.com.

If you enjoyed this post you might like “Impermanence: Nothing Lasts — Except My Wish That Everything Would Stay the Same.” Also, “The Sad State of the Supermarket Strawberry.”

Our cypress tree — part of it anyway. Photo by Barbara Newhall

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