Meat

So this last weekend was a pretty momentous time for me.  One of the major goals of my trip is to be more 'personally aware' as they say in Buddhist thought (no, I'm not a Buddhist).  I feel like much of my life experiences have just flowed around me, like Andrew's view of the world in Garden State.  I am trying to get back to basics and build my personal structure from scratch.  I am exploring many things I haven't looked at in years (if ever).  One of the areas that I have looked into is the ethics of eating.

Ethics of eating is a very broad subject.  It ranges from the basic questions, to balancing personal satisfaction with communal responsibilities.  Should I buy locally grown food?  What is the purpose of a CSA (though right now I'm living a couple of steps closer then local and CSA)?  Many of these questions raise other questions.  'Should I eat organic food' leads to 'What the fuck is organic.'  But the toughest question I've asked myself is "Is it ok to eat meat?"

I'm guessing that most of my friends and family are shocked that I am even asking that question.  The first month in Portland and then wwoofing was brutal to adjust from eating meat once or twice a day to once or twice a week.  But it is a fair question.  Saying that we've been eating meat for millions of years doesn't mean that we shouldn't consider it.  I was uncomfortable exploring the issue (not sure if I was ready to make a real conclusion), but that is what this trip is about; pushing myself.

I won't go into all the back and forth arguments I've had (with others and with myself) because that could take 20 pages of writing.  I did come to the conclusion that I am comfortable with eating meat under one condition; if I find it so repulsive to 'prepare' my meal, then I shouldn't be eating it.  I would not be able to tell myself that its ok to eat a product when I am unwilling to peal back the cover on the process it entails to create it.  If it is so repulsive to me, I shouldn't be eating the end result.

Well this past weekend I had the chance to put that philosophy into action.  The farm I am on had to do some 'goat herd management.'  One of the mamas stopped giving milk and we needed to take care of one of the mamas and one male kid.  To add to the personal factor, I got to know the mama, Anna, pretty well and knew the kid, Duke, as well.  I didn't take the shot (it would be unfair, as I'm inexperienced and may miss the spinal cord), but I was there.  Then I did all the skinning, gutting and butchering over the next few days.

I wasn't sure how I would react.  I didn't want to toss my cookies (that would not have been in line with my natural machismo), but it was a distinct possibility that I would.  Going in I figured there was a 20% chance I would be a vegetarian by the end of it all.  That did not happen at all.  I felt a little sad about it, and once or twice felt a pang of nausea.  But overall I was ok with it.  I didn't shy away from any part of the process.  In fact, I started to wonder why I wasn't feeling more guilty (especially the next day when Tweety, Duke's mom, had more milk in the morning).  I feel like I have come to terms with all stages in this circle of life.

Yesterday I made a pot of goat goulash.    I prepared everything myself (harvested all the vegetables as well) and I was able to face my qualms.  Sitting down to dinner was an interesting experience.  It smelled great (if I do say so myself), and it looked like regular goulash.  I felt no negative vibes, rather I felt a sense of ease.  Everyone loved it (except the three vegetarians).  There have been times when I've felt strongly about a dish (one that I slaved over, or a transcendent dish at a restaurant), but this time was different.  I was completely in touch with what I was eating for the first time.

So now that I have the goat kills under my belt, its time to get ready for the next step in farm life.  Beatrice Bear has been paying me visits at night.  I am currently sleeping in a dome in the apple orchard.  At night I hear her huffing and puffing and munching on apples until Oops (our dog/guardian angel) goes chasing her away.  This is an unacceptable situation for the farm, especially with 400 people coming for Llamapalooza next week.  Dave (the farmowner) is going to shoot Beatrice if she comes on the property this weekend.  We cut down fire lanes (it felt like we were preparing an ambush for insurgents) and we will stake out the back of the field from the top of the chicken coop (I may be the spotter).

I don't feel too comfortable about this situation.  The last month I have been much more in touch with animals around me.  I wouldn't give it a second thought to kill a spider in my room before this trip.  Not anymore.  I am much more in tune with creatures roles in our ecosystem.  Now I feel a tinge of guilt when I swat at a fly that is itching me.  I know its a part of life out in the boondocks, but I don't have any issues with Beatrice.  She hasn't bothered me (just scared the shit out of me last night).  In the end I understand its about peoples' safety, but I haven't internalized it.  Conceptualizing the danger of bears being comfortable walking around people is not something I ever thought about in NYC.  We'll see how this plays out.

So here I am, with blood on my hands (though I finally showered last night), and OK with it.  I hope its a step forward, not back, in my life.