On January the 8th 1940 war-time rationing began in the UK. This included bacon, butter, sugar, meat, tea, cooking fat, jam, cheese, eggs and milk.
In the year 2016 it is estimated that 3,000 animals die every second in slaughterhouses around the world. There are a lot of seconds in a year, so that is why collectively it equates to billions of animal deaths every 365 days; more of course for a Leap Year. Oh and I’m only talking on-land. Considering that Planet Earth is technically more wet than it is dry, that is more numbers than I care to investigate at present. Mainly because I don’t care much for numbers; because oftentimes numbers alone don’t make people care very much.
Looking back through time and space it doesn’t take much investigating to see that humans only 76 years ago did not have what the vast majority of one geographical part of the word has today: BIG OPTIONS (76 by the way is one number worth meditating on for a while). Imagine, in less than a hundred years my parents generation went from an environment where wastage of food meant serious impulsivity issues; to the modern day world where serious impulsivity issues often make you appear a valued and more accepted member of society.
People can (and choose to) empathise with the cultural behaviours of the majority, mainly because many times it reinforces their own (seemingly) personal choices. So much so that simply by a person being in close enough proximity to you and seeing what you routinely pop into your supermarket basket on a weekly basis; means that they can negate internal niggling voices and softly sedate anxious thoughts, albeit for the time being.
So friend I ask you this: are you having serious moral considerations as to the true psychological nature of your most recent “Happy Meal?” If you often sit in a food-based environment that enriches the notion of Carnism (essentially the opposite of vegetarianism – an invisible belief system, or ideology, that conditions people to eat certain animals) you will, if you choose to simply look up, see a plethora of examples of ways that said environment lesses the chances of you making a connection between burger and Bull(shit).
You just go on, strange as it ever was, swimming around in a sort of gloopy jell-o like endometrium of cognitive dissonance. You cannot, even if you wanted to, put a NAME to that inconspicuous but some-what innately known, yet consciously removed feeling that just maybe, if you look at meat in this way, through half-opened eyes; that actually, under this light, in your current situation, taken from that angle, that maybe, just maybe, there might actually be something a little bit odd with your current eating choices.
So where did it all get so….convoluted? Where did we disconnect our three times a day hunger-orientated brain choices from their spinal vertebrae? I suppose in part much like the animals on factory farms, who are routinely over-dosed with steroidal growth-hormones: as a society we ended up growing too quick too fast. And that’s another story for another day….or is it?!
I feel somewhat perplexed, because I know what I want to say and how I want the second part of my piece to neatly tie-up ending with opening, only writing about food and veganism is by no means a light bite: in fact it is a meal as old as time. Essentially, besides simply popping CAPS LOCKS ON and saying “THANKS FOR READING, NOW BE VEGAN”, that simply will not do.
Instead I would like to lightly dust-over one school of thought: that disconnection from source oftentimes equals plagiarism. A coping of someone else’s work. So if society is currently doing meat, dairy and eggs in proportions that would ironically make a relatively safe WW2 child die a very painful death; as a result of severe over-indulgence and subsequent internal organ damage and possible bowel dismemberment via internal gas production, it doesn’t meat that you have to. AND BREATH.
You don’t have to copy the masses, when essentially the masses are nothing more than a collection of individuals who individually cannot make up their own minds without a mass-ive plaster firmly slapped down on the gash of truth (as in fairness not one person could support bleed-out at that level). Whilst it is important to be a part of society and to grow and develop in a none-isolated setting, to have your baby-hand firmly contorted into an eternal finger-lock by a grouping of flesh-bots known as the Agricultural Industry, is something entirely different.
For many people not being able to access keys like Houdini could means that they are oftentimes trapped and locked into their own self-built prisons to begin with. Namely the mind. Now, to step outside out their minds and back into yours can be liberating, almost worryingly so.
Imagine that just by educating yourself on the current situations that global livestock production is both put through and responsible for, well it could arguably make you feel in any once instance as if you wished to skin your own humanity, yet simultaneously embrace it too. Preferably not whilst sitting down at a popular fast-food chain that uses mainly primary colours in it’s decor; because clearly subtly was never it’s patriots most pressing need.
Yet regardless of the fact that the world has radically changed in less than a hundred years, in so many ways, in the case of farmed animals I’m sure that the majority (if they could) would say that nothing much did change after WW2. In fact it could be rather controversially said that none-Arian peoples were only ever passing visitors through the chambers of hell; as Pigs have remained as gassed today as they have ever been.
However, one thing that is evidently true today is that eating meat may never have been lower in price, but higher in dis-connect. Today, if you are the individual who is not subconsciously noticing that John Smith to your right just picked up a similar packet of legs to you, but perhaps at a slightly lower price – the swine! Then you are probably onto the undeniable and growing thought process that is permeating even the densest of female reproductive linings of the womb: that unlike works of (modern) art; all life is in fact priceless.
Because subjectively speaking I don’t want to be sliced-to-death in my own blood-bath on previously disinfected, but never – morally speaking – truly clean abattoir flooring; and objectively speaking neither did the now (probably) reduced-cost body parts in your little wire basket.
“Clean-up on aisle 2 please!”