This I Believe

Walking the Walk

In my mid-twenties I read these words: “The greatness of our nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way in which its animals are treated.” A mighty seed had been planted deep that would blossom as years passed. Like Gandhi, I came to believe that when our participation in the abuse and exploitation of our animals is transformed into compassion, that only then will civilations become truly civilized and humans truly humane.

I also believe that, in spite of strongly held beliefs, living them is often challenging. Actions don’t always resonate with beliefs; life becomes fraught with temptation, inconsistency, conflict.

In my early thirties I once spent two weeks in the hospital because of a severe asthma attack. My only nourishment was delivered via IV, and the medication created insomnia. Deep in the night my food-deprived self created visions of bounty, picnic tables draped with checkered table cloths, laden with everything a human being could eat. When I was released, a boyfriend took me to his place for a meal he’d prepared especially for me. “You said you were hungry enough to eat anything,” he reminded me. He watched across the table while I ate. And ate. And ate. Between bites I watched him. A smile of victory formed on his face. I’d just cleaned the bone of the thickest, juiciest pork chop ever. By the time he’d cleared the table I was in tears, shamed, remorseful. I’d become as beastly as my meal. But, hey, my hunger had been appeased.

It’s been relatively easy to turn my back to animal flesh, but relinqueshing my six Coach bags — now that’s another story. I loved their beauty and status. I loved their workmanship and endurance. I was like an athlete who finishes a race and then lights up a cigarette. I was a Coach bag junkie, but I knew that if I was going to be true to my belief that I would have to give them up. I decided to bequeath them to a good friend, but I was slow in turning them over to her. The resolution of my dilemma was a mixed bag, no pun intended. I embraced Kipling bags, good looking, non-leather and durable; however, a fire several years ago destroyed, among other things, my entire wardrobe, including the hides of sentient beings former known as Coach.

Well, twenty-five years has passed since Gandhi spoke to me. I am again walking the bodhisattva path, living with pets, contributing to animal welfare funds and trying to gently raise the consciousness of those around me, including a hunting co-working. And my belief is stronger than ever.

Oh . . . does anyone know where I can find a comfortable and durable alternative to leather shoes and boots?

# # #