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I submitted an entry to the New York Times’ essay contest.  The challenge was to write on the subject “Is it ethical to eat meat?”  Being the guilt-free omnivore that I am, I decided to enter.  After culling through 3000 entries the Times’ judges left mine out of the six finalists’ pile.  So I’m including it as a blog because I think it’s worthy of discussion.  Here goes…

Public domain photograph of various meats. (Be...

Public domain photograph of various meats. (Beef, pork, chicken.) Source: http://visualsonline.cancer.gov/details.cfm?imageid=2402 (via http://geekphilosopher.com/bkg/foodMeat.htm) Public domain declaration: http://visualsonline.cancer.gov/about.cfm (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Is it ethical to eat meat?  It’s as ethical as it was to be engineered to digest meat. Now we’re questioning the ethics of evolution or creation since we were constructed to be omnivores. Our digestive system is capable of processing meat, absorbing its nutrients and excreting its waste without requiring outside intervention to accomplish it or to stay healthy.  Just like the human system can process plants and fruit.  Is it ethical to eat those living organisms?

Animals kill each other to consume.  The human animal has been eating meat for more than two and a half million years.  Back in the days of African hominids there were no meat factories to grow their prehistoric buffalo or marketing to influence their taste buds.  They crafted instruments to hunt food because their instincts were to eat meat, plus plants.  There were no ethical dilemmas to consider or need to pander to political correctness.  They were built to digest meat and that’s what they did.

Plants and fruit are as alive as animals are.  Once they die they’re no longer nutritious; they must be consumed as living, breathing organisms.  They don’t take oxygen in through their lungs as humans do, but they do exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide through a process called respiration.  In fact, in order to maintain human life, we need plants to inhale carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen, our most vital commodity for life.  So there’s an argument to be made about the ethics of eating plants that must stay alive in order for the human species to exist.

The real question of ethics pertains to the way humans go about getting our meat.

Our species has a tendency to flaunt our position at the top of the food chain.  We hunt animals for sport and cut off their heads to mount on our walls.  We fish for sport and often throw the fish, now with a hole through its mouth or gill, back into the water when rules call for “fish and release.”  We toss ropes around calves’ necks and hurl them to the ground and cinch a bull’s gonads while hopping on his back to see if he can buck us off.  Why?  Because some consider it fun.  Those arrogant human traits are disrespectful of fellow living beings and unethical activities from a species with supreme reasoning power.

It’s also unethical to “grow meat” in industrial feedlots where cattle are fed grain they can’t digest, hormones to get too fat for their legs to support their bodies (because natural weight gain takes too long and is too lean), and given no room to move around thereby being forced to stand in their own feces.  When they get sick they’re given antibiotics to treat the damage caused by eating corn that their bodies can’t digest.  There are equally unethical conditions imposed on chickens and pigs raised in feedlots.

It is ethical, though, to raise cattle, pigs, chickens and sheep in their natural environments: pasture on which to graze, room to roam and provide other food their bodies were designed to eat.  And when the time comes, to be killed in a humane, respectful fashion.

I eat plants and humanely raised meat.  I also don’t hunt or taunt animals for sport.  I’m an omnivore and lead an ethical life.

Now it’s your turn.  Do you think it’s ethical to eat meat?  

Here’s what the six New York Times’ essay finalists had to say.  

Fading Away….


She lies in bed with her feet curled under the sheets, hands gripped in tight fists wrapped around small stuffed bears to prevent her nails from stabbing her palms. She stares into space, now completely blind, with a blank expression.  Her past-time these days is to curl her tongue around her mouth, stick it out and start over again.  She sips water through a straw, is fed baby food with a spoon and her hygiene needs are attended to by others.  She has end-stage Alzheimer’s Disease and as it progresses, she regresses deeper into infancy.  

Amazing how this woman is ending up where she began.  And, as far as doctors know, she’s unaware of the changes in her life.  Eventually her brain will stop remembering how to swallow.

Alzheimer’s Disease is a tragic way to die.  This woman’s progression is now 8 years into diagnosis with her family responsible for her care.  Their lives are on hold and her husband has essentially devoted his to her, rendering him housebound with occasional relief days to steal a few hours out of the house.

“Hi baby” he coos to her when he returns home.  

“How are you?  

Did you have a nap?  

Are you thirsty baby?”  

Blank stare into space.  Tongue rolls around in mouth.  Evidently that response triggers him to reach for the water-glass to give her a quick swig.  And “quick” is the operative word here.  Her sucking impulse is strong and she’s likely to gulp down more than she can process.  A couple coughing and gasping spells is all that’s necessary before that lesson sinks in.

It’s a lonely life relegated to Alzheimer’s families.  They suffer the disease more harshly than the patient because they watch the deterioration of a human being who used to be a vital member of the family.

There is no substitute for the love of an Alzheimer’s caregiver.
–Bob DeMarco

Pat Summitt stepped down today as Head Coach of the Lady Vols.  Less than a year ago she announced a diagnosis of Alzheimer’s Disease.  Fortunately she has plenty of money to pay for round the clock care.  Most people don’t.  But all the money in the world can’t reverse her fate.  Not yet.  

                                                    Maybe someday?

Why Did Pogo Choose Me?


Pogo

His dreamy eyes (I call them goo goo eyes) look at me as though he’s known me forever.  His heart bursts open with uninhibited love every time I walk through the door, jumping for joy to see me.  For years I’ve wondered what made this little dog choose me to be his mom when he had his pick of contenders.  I ask him that question repeatedly and all he does is look deep into my eyes, smile and wag his tail.

In June Pogo and I will celebrate nine years as a family.  June 9, to be exact, the day before my birthday during a fateful evening walk around the neighborhood.  I’d been hearing stories of a little brown dog that showed up, sneaking around at night devouring food left outside by sympathetic neighbors.  But he’d let no-one touch him.  Until June 9.  When we laid eyes on each other for the first time.

Then he jumped all over me like he’d been searching a lifetime for ME!  I sat down in the street and the little guy smothered me with affection, rolling upside down in my lap, covering my face with sloppy kisses.  If he could speak he’d have screamed, OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY!!!  I FOUND YOU!

Deep in my soul I think I know where Pogo came from.  Now for the back story…

More than 10 years ago my neighbors’ house burned down, the tragic result of a living room candle flame gone awry.  That fire stole much of what those people held dear — from photos to wedding presents to pets.  They lost a cat and a dog in the tragedy, rendering themselves numb and the rest of the neighborhood.

Miniature schnauzer in car, seatbelted

I was traumatized too, not only because such a horrible thing instantly wiped out a lifetime of collections for my friendly neighbors, but because their dog and I had a special bond.  Spike was my walking buddy.  He was a precious miniature Schnauzer with a giant personality and feisty spirit.  Everyday he waited for me to pass his house during my walks so he could accompany me home for hugs and treats.

Hans on St. Vrain Trail, Colorado.

He had this quirky little trot as we made our way to my house.  In the middle of a run he’d lift his back right leg and hop on the remaining three until we reached the corner.  He did this often enough to inspire me  to check into his health only to learn that the vet was as perplexed by the behavior as we were.  He never found anything wrong with that leg. It was just a “Spike thing” I suppose, a trait that endeared him to me even more.  In fact, Nanette often teased me that she’d know exactly where to look should Spike “forget” to come home sometime.  My heart was broken when my little friend was taken from our lives and I mourned his loss for months.

Fast forward a year or so to my historic walk around the neighborhood that lucky evening on June 9, when Pogo and I met.  From that day on we’ve walked the neighborhood together just about everyday.

And for the first few months as we’d pass Nanette’s and Spike’s now rebuilt home, Pogo would pick up his back right leg and hop to the corner.

And now you have the whole story.  No kidding


Pogo

Pogo is thrilled to be back in our neighborhood to explore his old haunts, no longer tethered to a leash.  It’s not necessary at home;  the woods are familiar territory since the days he eked out a life before choosing me as mom.  For a month the little guy was lost, or abandoned, and became quite successful at rooting out small furry ground creatures and bugs.  He considers the wooded neighborhood his backyard and leads the way on our walks announcing every car, person and animal before they barely come within view.  He’s fiercely loyal and protective of me and our bond runs deeper than any other relationship I have.

Not Bow - but looks as beautiful as she was

It’s always been that way with animals and me.  When I was nine my best friend was the collie around the corner, Bow.  She’d wait for me on her front yard and then together we’d crawl into our fort among the bushes and tell each other secrets about our day, some of which made me cry.  I’m convinced she understood my tears, her chin resting on my knee cooing her soft soothing sounds of compassion while she stared sadly into my eyes.  I always felt better afterward.

My life is filled with stories of serendipity involving animals; most of my pets have happened into our family over the years, rarely invited but always welcomed.  I need them for soul survival.  Never had kids.  Must have animals.  Right now we have five cats and Pogo, my first-ever dog.  Somehow this 25 pound feist terrier didn’t cause the typical allergic reactions that plague Rick around dogs and horses.  Go figure; just one more example of serendipity.   Lucky Pogo and very, very lucky me.  We’re inseparable.

There are a lot of life’s lessons to be gleaned from animals if you’re quiet, observant and receptive.  They’re much more authentic than people, in fact, they have no capacity to be otherwise.  They have a smaller pre-frontal cortex, the brain part that allow us to reason and plan.  They don’t manipulate or have ulterior motives.  They teach unconditional love.  Their emotions, pure and concentrated, ooze out of their being – love, fear, anger, hurt, sadness, joy, loneliness – you just look into their eyes to immediately understand their feelings.

Beautiful Madison, our Persian cat

Rudy & Pumpernickel

Pogo & Willey

Scooter

There are few animals I don’t instantly feel attracted to.  They have an uncanny ability to open my heart wide, drawing me into conversation while the owners stand outside our circle disconnected from our secular communion.  The animal and I become immediate friends.  Humans don’t have the same effect on me.  They’re usually armored with defenses, allowing the approved facade to engage in superficial conversation that rarely leads to any true knowledge of one another.  But animals – the more open you are, the more honest and love filled they become.

Horse and Rider

Horse and Rider (Photo credit: Istvan)

I recently read a book by neurosurgeon and horse trainer Dr. Alan Hamilton called “Zen Mind Zen Horse:  The Science and Spirituality of Working With Horses.”  He too recognizes the spiritual magic transpiring between human and animal once you let down your defenses, open to your vulnerability and invite the connection.  Dr. Hamilton harnesses the energy or chi emanating between trainer and horse to non-verbally communicate instructions for the horse to follow.  And this guy’s a scientist.

James Cameron created Avatars to become divine examples of their human counterparts.  Animals serve as my avatars.  Life’s answers can be found during quiet meditation, interaction with nature and communion with animals.  That’s where my joy is born.

And yours?

A Walk In The Woods


Our campground here in Stone Mountain was surprisingly empty for our final two days in Mr. Bus.  It’s divided into pods of sites and we were the only rig in our pod of maybe 20 sites.  We’re nestled in the woods of hilly Georgia, east of Atlanta and it feels good to be among the pine and hardwood trees again.  I’ve always loved the moodiness of the forest.  As much as I adore the ocean and its vast power, the woods and all its creatures are where I prefer living

Hiking here is good.  The Cherokee Trail traverses five miles around the bottom of Stone Mountain, an unusually barren dome of granite jutting up out of the trees toward the sky.  It reminds me of the Spielberg film, “Close Encounters,” primed for a giant UFO to land at the top.

I hadn’t realized how much I needed those solitary walks along the trails.  My initial intent was to ride my bike along that trail until I discovered I’d need a mountain bike and some really strong thighs for that plan.  So off on foot I went, rather slowly since sleep had evaded me for most of the night before.  The walk may have taken me longer but because of my pace all kinds of detail was exposed that normally goes unnoticed.  Sounds, tiny flowers and critters on land and water  went about their daily lives oblivious to my intrusion in their world.  I needed the solitude after weeks of going and going and going.

Jutting into the lake were a few dead trees in various stages of decay  that offered the perfect platform for eight water turtles to perch in the sun.  Toward the base of the trees, still on land, were the beginnings of mushrooms or some other sort of fungus marking a stage of metamorphosis into soil.  That process takes 10 years from tree to dirt.  Incredible isn’t it?  Poised on a nearby branch was a vivid red cardinal whose crest was taut and proud for reasons I don’t know.  But he was a beauty with his matching red beak.

chipmunk on log upper right

fungus on dead tree

I found myself relaxing into the mood of the land, soothing a sense of impatience I’d been feeling in the bustling, endlessly bright atmosphere of Florida tourist destinations – away from my dog and his endless scratching to relieve his incessant itching no matter how many possible solutions we offer to soothe his allergy ridden skin.  His discomfort has frayed my nerves and has been keeping me awake at night.  This walk in the woods has quieted my irritation and helpless feelings.  And it’s reminding me how infrequently I’ve been meditating and practicing yoga poses, both crucial activities for my peace of mind as almost daily rituals at home.  On the road I haven’t made time to include them with regularity.  The quiet of the woods is calling attention to that.

Crystal clear mountain water. Those rocks are underwater.

It was Rick’s idea to push our typical three-hour drive to closer to five so we could get to this public park and stay put for a couple of days, recharging our batteries before heading home to undertake the mundane chores of settling in again.  And I’m glad for that.  It’s being the ideal transition between the two worlds.

Tomorrow morning we leave for home and three hours later we’ll arrive.  I’ll start Pogo’s daily regimen of antihistamine and local honey, a winning combination last year.  Wish me luck.

See you at home …

The End Is Near


Florida sunset!

Florida sunset! (Photo credit: Odalaigh)

It’s hard to believe that 6 weeks has come and almost gone drawing our south-east bus trip to a close.  It’s felt long and momentary in its own paradoxical way.  Funny how hindsight has that affect on you.  On the one hand I feel like we’ve been gone forever, putting a hold on the scheduled routine of my life and its openings for spontaneity.  Yet now as I reflect on where we’ve been and what we’ve done, it feels like just yesterday that we took off.  What an odd phenomenon.

It’s been a while since my last post though it’s not for lack of trying.  Twice I wrote pieces regarding my impressions about the snow birds who flock to Florida and the Disney utopian town of Celebration, and twice Word Press deleted the copy as I was trying to add pictures, moments later automatically saving the blank page as my draft.  It irritated me enough to bite my nose to spite my face, say f*** it and go on with my evening without an entry.  Now I’m “saving” along the way until they get that glitch (I assume it was “they”) resolved.  I’m not a terribly patient person by nature.  Can you tell?

Key West

Key West (Photo credit: GarySlinger)

We spent the bulk of our time in Florida – down the East coast and back up the Gulf side so I’ve had my fill of ocean and beach for now.  I admit to enjoying the Gulf side more because of its greater feeling of space and residential sensibility.  Plus there seems to be more than just palm trees to look at.  I did love exploring the Everglades which wasn’t a surprise since National Parks rank high on my list of must sees.

The Keys were also fun – it’s a great past-time to bike the streets all over Key West – and frankly, all of Florida due to the flat terrain, though it’s the hills and forests that I love so much about the northern southeast of the country (is that an oxymoron?  Northern Southeast?)  Anyway – I’m referring to Georgia, Tennessee and the Carolinas.

My greatest impression of Florida is that it’s loaded with seniors, especially snow birds this time of year.  License plates from New Jersey, Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont, Wisconsin, Michigan and other states flood the campgrounds where these older citizens live out the winter months.  One of the “RV resorts” in Venice was mostly a mobile home park which doubled as winter camp for its part-time residents.  And their calendars get filled with activities like bingo, shuffle board, pot luck suppers and dance, coffee and pastry get togethers while they toodle around the place on adult tricycles and golf carts.  It’s a sight for the un-itiated like me.  Our campground in the Everglades was the setting for a wedding between two snowbirds celebrating their second anniversary wintering there together.  The whole place was invited so I went too; it was a charming diversion while waiting for my laundry to finish drying!  Here’s a taste of the wedding.

the groom waiting for his bride to arrive by golf cart

here she is!

The Orlando area was a surprise, very much like Pigeon Forge in my neck of the woods with its bumper to bumper traffic and kitschy stores trumpeting all sorts of cheap trinkets for tourists.  The highlight for us was touring Celebration, Disney’s vision of a utopian residential village built around a town center.  When I read about its development years ago I pictured row after row of colorful pseudo cheerful houses with picket fences, each looking exactly like its neighbor.  Shame on me for not assuming they’d commission famed architects Michael Graves, Philip Johnson and Robert A.M. Stern among others to design key elements of this town.  It was charming and I can appreciate its appeal.

town center

residential street in Celebration

Lighthouse in Tybee Island, Georgia, USA.

Image via Wikipedia

But my favorite place wasn’t in Florida at all.  It was Tybee Island in Georgia, just 16 miles east of Savannah on a wild piece of land resplendent with the natural growth of the region.  I love its earthiness and understated homes and especially its zoning law of a maximum three-story structure.

Sea Oats on Tybee Island Beach.

Image via Wikipedia

That substantially limits hotels and keeps tourists at a minimum offering a lifestyle the residents can really enjoy.  I’ll definitely be going back, may even check real estate prices.

Right now we sit in our wooded campsite at Stone Mountain Campground, about three hours from home.  These two days will cap our winter adventure for the season.  Tomorrow I’ll hike and bike and we’ll celebrate our last bus dinner with hot dogs and baked beans!

I‘m looking forward to going home just as I look forward to going away.  I need  both in my life.  Both feed my soul.

See you at home.

How is your winter going?

Alone Is Not Lonely


It was a beautiful bright day riding my bike through Key West, much like yesterday’s cycling trip.  The sky was a vivid blue and the wind was blowing gently masking the sun’s searing rays.  Once again I slathered the sun block on all exposed skin, wore a hat and continued my exploration of this small and tightly packed party island.

I love my bike trips, many of which are solitary experiences.  My husband doesn’t ride and my friends who do aren’t here. It’s just me, my bike, the scenery and my thoughts which flow unencumbered by conversation.  Sometimes so many ideas flow through my mind I need to stop and record them on my phone for evaluation at a later time.  Other times it’s meditative to ride at an even pace and coast when something grabs my attention for a closer look.

Being solitary is being alone well: being alone luxuriously immersed in doings of your own choice, aware of the fullness of your won presence rather than of the absence of others. Because solitude is an achievement.
Alice Koller

I also find myself receptive to new people and while it’s usually true that strangers tend to keep to themselves, they’re unusually responsive to friendly repartee when I’m alone.  The art gallery manager from Michigan explained how he and his wife stopped for a day in Key West during a cruise and decided to move here.  That was in 2002. We talked for probably 15 minutes.

Fort Zachary Taylor

Image via Wikipedia

Somehow the idea of being alone became equated to loneliness and nothing could be farther from the truth.  Loneliness surfaces from a depressed state, one which rises from a sense of lack.  Being alone lacks nothing.  There is no void, just a contentedness for being where you are, doing what you’re doing and enjoying your own company.

Loneliness expresses the pain of being alone and solitude expresses the glory of being alone.
Theologian Paul Tillich

In fact I do many things alone, always have.  I’ve never required a companion to see a movie, theater, shop, have a restaurant meal, attend an event, visit a city, take a vacation – you name it and I’ve done it alone.  I get together with friends when I want to see them and share experiences.  My husband comes along when he’s interested in doing the same thing at the same time, but in truth our interests are overlapping circles that share about 20 percent of the same space.

What a lovely surprise to finally discover how unlonely being alone can be.
Ellen Burstyn

Mostly I’m a loner who also has friends.  I’ve never identified with people who deny themselves experiences if they can’t find a companion.  Frankly, I know a lot of people who have felt very lonely in the company of others, and that includes some married couples.

Solitude

Solitude (Photo credit: Lady-bug)

I don’t live in solitude but I seek its experience everyday.  Alone feels good, it percolates with a vibrancy that strengthens intuition. And intuition is the juice that powers wise decision-making. I always allow it to have pre-eminence over my mind because it speaks the truth.

Read below for many delicious thoughts about solitude.

National Parks are Treasures


Everglades National Park, Florida

Everglades National Park, Florida (Photo credit: ajsadeh)

My favorite road visits are through National Parks, millions of acres of pristine wilderness stretching in all directions as far as the eye can see.  No honking horns, high-rise buildings or fast food franchises to jar you alert to human “progress.”  Just by standing still and breathing softly you can become tuned to the world of nature where tiny creatures scurry the ground usually invisible to our awareness.

The terrain at the different parks is as vast as the parks are large and I love being ensconced in the uniqueness of each one. Everglades National Park isn’t what I expected, but then my expectation was based on some fictional combination of alligators and swamps.  Yes, they’re both there but not in my Hollywood-esque

imaginative screenplay.  At least not the part I saw.  Had I taken a canoe ride through back country I might have experienced a different world.  But the one I saw on land bordering sloughs and sink holes and various grasslands and woods was rich with all sorts of species, including alligators.

Just along the Anhinga Trail in Royal Palm I counted 8 species of birds, including some rough-looking vultures, co-habitating in the slough with turtles, schools of fish and alligators of all sizes.  They were intermingled throughout a pond dotted with mangroves, willow reeds and something called Air Trees.  And the thriving ecosystem was abundant with babies of all kinds.  It amazed me that so many animals, some of whom were predators, could live in such harmony together.

there are baby egrets in this mangrove who were just fed by mom

There had to be dozens of visitors ambling along the boardwalk trail elevated a few feet above the slough’s water surface and yet everyone was whispering, allowing nature to do all the talking.  We all weaved our way through weeds, trees and grasses, as though this boardwalk grew here with everything else.  It was a glorious interaction with a thriving world just doing its own thing.

Another unworldly elevated boardwalk trail is the Pa-hay-okee Overlook across the “River of Grass” so aptly named for its paradoxical sensibility.  What looked like a meadow with tall reeds was

actually water with grass growing in it.  Had we stepped into it we would have sunk.  Here the dormant Cyprus Trees tower over its’ grassy neighbors creating a moody environment that inspires visitors to stop in our

tracks and just stare at the elements comprising such a picture.  There is some ground on which darts all kinds of creatures foresting for their food in this unique world.

There are a variety of trails inviting spectators to experience the 9 different ecosystems unique to the Everglades, which like other ecosystems around the world are starting to diminish.  Urban and suburban sprawl contribute to a change in water flow, endangering many species in this glorious spot on earth stretching 1.5 million acres of southern Florida.

It’s vital we continue to protect these earthly treasures.  They’re our precious heritage.

Which National Parks speak to you?

Anastasia State Park haiku


Woods hold a secret

and whisper heartfelt whimsy

while I walk her path.

Trees line her walkway

while fallen needles cushion

steps that leave no trace.

 As winds blow  her leaves

 light teases through canopy

 creating shadows.

 There’s something about

 the smell of greens in nature

that beckons spirit.

It’s fresh yet musty

a paradox in action

the very nature of life.

It’s the woods alone

that breathe life into my soul

it’s my heart, my need.

Breathe deep, sit silent

as the secret whistles through

the sounds are revealed.


A Different World


I walk along the beach where the vast Atlantic ocean slaps the shoreline with cresting waves whose spent power trickles under my feet and tickles my toes with each step.  Ocean sovereignty untamed by humans ends at this boundary.  Perhaps that’s the magnetism that draws the land species to the edge of two worlds both vibrant with life, neither can subsist in the other.

I hear the ocean yell with roars louder than my thoughts.  Its domination drowns any quiet solitude simmering within.

It demands to be noticed,

to be admired,

to be respected,

to be awed.

And we land people yield to that force.

Why do you come? it booms in my ears, penetrating every cell in my body. You land people flock to my shores.  Stare at my waves for hours on end.  Walk along my borders where children dig into my sand and dogs romp through my swells.  Some of you try to ride me but never succeed in conquering me.  Some of you hunt my people to eat and become the occasional hunted for our sustenance. You explore my depths but can’t penetrate my soul.  You can’t live here but continually need to explore here.  You need me. You need us. You are me.  You are us.

We land people go to the ocean to be swept up beyond ourselves where thoughts don’t reside.  The roar is too loud for problems.  Too mighty for anything but complete submission.  Quietude comes later.