a beginning and an end

I jumped onto the cardboard box to try and clamp it shut, pushing down as hard as I could to tape it all up. Sights, sounds, and sentiments were bursting at the seams, gushing out from my box of bitter memories.

I had broken a sweat using all my might to tape it up. Even used two rolls of tape this time for extra reinforcement. I finally had it all closed, 

only to impulsively rip it open again.

It's nice to be able to look through it all. To know it's there for me to explore if I feel the urge. The part I hate yet can never seem to avoid is questioning why it's all there. I'll find one piece and ask myself whether I could have avoided its arrival into my collection.

bleed scrape bleed itch bleed pull bleed scratch bleed (the soundtrack to my ceaseless gnawing at emotional scabs)

You're forcing me to put you in there, too. You want me to throw you in that box along with everything else that's done, finished, and relegated to my past forever. You've come today with a ribbon for me to wrap it with once you've stepped inside and closed it shut, but I'd rather have you here, alongside me, as we sit on the foot of my bed sifting through all of this together.

I now know how my grandpa feels.

I remember once when I was younger, one of the males in the family cut his hair. That's taboo in the Sikh faith, because uncut hair is supposed to be the physical manifestation of our inner convictions. I never quite understood the particularly dramatic reactions, such as the one displayed by my grandfather. I still don't - especially considering how the decision to wear an article of faith or subscribe to a particular religion is such a positively personal decision. Still, I sensed the disappointment; I can understand how it might have made my grandpa feel dispirited and saddened at the thought of someone close to him rejecting the tenets of a culture which has always been remarkably revolutionary and beautiful. A culture that has always stood up for the oppressed by defending women and those with lesser means. A culture which I find truly remarkable for so many reasons. However, wearing a turban/keeping one's hair is undeniably a personal decision.

Eating animals, however, is not a personal decision. A personal decision is divorced of the sort of ramifications and prerequisites that eating animals in this country currently necessitates. When you eat meat, we're not only considering that an animal had to die - we are considering how that animal had to suffer, physically and emotionally. 

When my vegetarian friend - a close friend - abandoned his vegetarian diet, I felt a sorrow I hadn't felt before. I think I know how my grandpa felt. 

Please reconsider.

Take-aways from the 2013 Animal Rights National Conference

At the 2013 Animal Rights National Conference, I had the pleasure of engaging both my intellectual and emotional faculties during the various workshops, lectures, and social gatherings. It was my first time attending the conference, and it was particularly gratifying because I achieved the one goal I sought to fulfill during the weekend. I certainly hoped to learn more about the movement, acquire some more skills for leafleting, and also make a new friend or two; my primary objective, however, was to leave the conference with at least one paramount piece of insight. As I stated, I achieved this goal, but in quite an unexpected manner.

This year's conference contained a debate between Bruce Friedrich and Gary Francione, two abolitionist vegans who work toward animal liberation - just in very different ways. Francione believes that supporting welfarist reforms (phasing out cages, providing more space for animals, etc) are counterproductive and encourage complacency. Well, that's the diplomatic summary, at least. In my personal perception, I see Francione as the Ann Coulter of the animal rights movement: someone who probably sincerely believes they are right, but due to their extremist views, gets much more attention than otherwise warrants (and consequently thrives off of it).

Friedrich's points were extremely articulate, pragmatic, tactful, and both his content and delivery were quite cogent. Francione, on the other hand, adopted a much less respectful demeanor during the debate. Content aside (which I, personally, viewed as reprehensible), I was particularly struck by the negativity he espoused. We are all working toward the same goal, and that should be a cause for some degree of celebration despite the uphill battle - why leave the audience members with such a sour, unpleasant feeling?

I was encouraged by a friend (a remarkable fellow Humane League activist) to share my thoughts with Francione, which is precisely what I did. I very respectfully approached him and and said, "I know you must be busy, but do you possibly have a moment for some feedback?" He immediately retorted (very briskly) by saying, "What do you disagree with?" I proceeded to courteously explain to him my vantage point. I said, "I feel like conferences such as this one are incubators for future activists. When you emit so much anger, you run the risk of alienating people who find such negativity off-putting." Once again in an undeniably curt manner, he said to me, "there's a difference between anger and passion. Hopefully one day you'll learn the difference."

The major insight I took away from the conference was the value of humility. My father always tells me that the best leaders are those who never stop learning from people around them. My interaction with Gary Francione solidified this concept in my head - that the people who radiate humility will always be the most influential, and those who isolate themselves from any and all opportunities to be better are cutting themselves off from true success. I was truly astonished by the arrogance emanating from Francione, but I feel very proud to say that those whom I look up to most in the movement, including the entire staff at The Humane League are some of the most humble, compassionate people I know who realize the value of always trying to be the best version of themselves possible - for them, and for the animals. 

The Failure of Self-Correcting Mechanisms

Homeostasis: the tendency to move toward equilibrium. Glide straight into place, achieve balance.

I long for interpersonal homeostasis. For our two beings to strive for that steady footing that our individual bodies have mastered so effortlessly. Can not our hearts and our souls master that sense of evenness and stability which is innate in our flesh and bones?

You'll supply what I lack. 

When you falter I'll step up.

If only it were so simple.

This osmosis of love and affection - it exists in the mind of a child whose body works tirelessly on tasks and small missions through her arteries and vessels, never failing to correct an imbalance or mend a scar. But when I try to mend your scars, I am slashed with recalcitrance which my body cannot heal.  No homeostasis. Only hurt.

This osmosis of love and affection - when you feel empty I will give you love; when you feel lonely I will give you warmth; when you are lost, I'll earnestly impart whatever direction I can. Emotional transactions take time.  My alms to you will not be supplanted as quickly as my body gives my thirsty cells water.

You stopped caring.

You always used to show concern when I would listen to Bright Eyes. I would always listen to Bright Eyes when I was sad. Then, eventually, you stopped showing concern. Perhaps because I began listening to them more frequently. My sadness was almost too overt that it glossed over you.

Defying the Odds: A Short Story

Whenever I have a business function where I need to kick off the event with some simple but epic story comprised of some struggling youth, destined to make it big despite having to tackle status oriented barriers - destined to "rise above" and make something honorable of his or her self - I always think of this one instance from my childhood from when I was in 8th grade. The year was 1975. We needed to build a projector, and the standard procedure consisted of utilizing two lenses.

But, I could only afford one.

Growing up, I had two shirts, one pair of pants, two underwear, and a pair of shoes. My small, dilapidated flat in Kanpur housed my parents, as well as me and my little brother. It suited us well. We were never the type to complain. We had what we needed, and we rarely wanted anything we did not have. You hear about so much social pressure these days - this 90210 bullshit - to look a certain way, to emulate certain personalities, even when it doesn't resonate with who you truly are. Looking back on it, I had the important things in life.
I couldn't afford to buy any yo-yos or basketballs, occasionally resulting in scorn from the town bullies, but that was nothing new. I had learned to cope with all of it. My most sacred tool was my ability to make school my getaway. Whatever boredom, anger, or despair I felt, I was somehow able to transform it into the fuel I needed to work effectively and discipline myself. Whenever I needed an escape, I could turn my back on the world and focus all my energy on my studies. I was among the sharper tools in the shed.
So, using my impeccable mathematical skills, I configured a formula that would allow for the construction of my project using one lens. I knew I would be able to successfully make my projector operational; the hard part would be convincing my teacher it was possible.
I had prepared a half-hour long disclaimer I was to recite to my stubborn teacher which consisted of how passionate and determined I was in regard to our assignment, how I admired his outstanding teaching abilities, his conviction in challenging his students to live up to their full potential, etc. He wasn't moved in the slightest. Not that I expected him to be. He merely basked in his enormous ego. As I expected him to.
Finally, I arrived at the part where I was proposing to complete my experiment with one magnifying lens, only to be shot down instantaneously with an adamant "No! It cannot be done."
It was as subtle as a sawed-off shotgun.
However, after what seemed like an eternity, I had convinced him it was indeed possible. In addition to possessing academic excellence, I was quite the persuader.
I went with my mother to the appliance shop where there were wiring materials, computer parts, lenses, bulbs, and old men who should have croaked decades ago lounging around smoking hookah.
I assembled my project as soon as I got home. I needed a metal ring to encase the lens, which I sneakily acquired from the broom lying in the kitchen. (It was the metal binding that held the straw together.) I went to the recycling to find a cardboard tube - all that remained from what used to be a roll of paper towels, and I used this for my project, too. I meticulously inserted the lens into the tube, and then reached for some tape to secure it ----
I made the mistake of working over a concrete floor.

Within an instant the lens had fallen through the tubing and onto the ground, shattering into dozens of pieces, the edges of which were lined with sharp, serrated shock and guilt. The shrill sound of the glass hitting the floor hasn't escaped me to this day. It's one of those things you play over a million times in your head, wishing you had faster reflexes for your hand to swoop in and catch the falling object, like the hero in all those Bollywood movies magically appears and catches the beautiful girl. You play it over a million times in your head and ask yourself why you didn't hold the bottom of the tube, "तेरा दमाग खराब है*?"
My mother came in and slapped me. There were tears all around, and I felt so fucking guilty. My mother reluctantly brought me to the store, again, as I couldn't stop sobbing.
We ended up having to buy that second lens after all. I had replayed the argument with my teacher in my head countless times, thinking to myself that if I was just going to end up buying two lenses, I would have passed on the unpleasant encounter with Mr. Sharma. Most of all, I felt awful for wasting my parents' money.

I got my project in on time, successfully using one lens, as planned. I remember writing my mother an apology letter, and she still has it to this day. I wrote her that letter 38 years ago. I had no idea she kept it until recently when we ended up reminiscing about the incident, among other memories during my last trip to India. I asked her if she had kept my math notes and immaculate schematic in preparation for the project, when she admitted that she had sold it decades ago along with all my other papers and books for recycling money. It just made me realize how far we've come since then. You can really go places when you set your mind to it.

___________________________________________

*Punjabi saying for "are you stupid?" Literally translates to "is your head cracked?"

The Animal Activist Handbook

    The Animal Activist Handbook (by Matt Ball and Bruce Friedrich) holds many useful pockets of truth and pragma amidst some arguably more obvious pieces of advice. I particularly enjoyed reading it because I personally feel as if when I gain more and more earnest conviction for what I believe in, the more my passion can radiate outwards to inspire others. This delightfully quick but very powerful read strengthened my conviction for helping animals in two crucial ways - it reiterated the extent of the suffering which animals are enduring this very moment, but it focused on how this should not be as overwhelming as we initially perceive it to be, because changing hearts and minds is more doable than we might assume.

Perhaps the part of the Handbook which resonated with me the most was the statement that "our lives should be an advertisement for a purpose driven life." I very much identify with the notion that we should live as if others would follow our example (check out the blogpost I wrote along the lines of this type of philosophy: http://humanwashingmachine.blogspot.com/2012/08/animal-rights-filtered-through-sartre.html), and the Handbook mentions how when trying to get others to do the same with regard to animal welfare, its as basic as helping people to understand that the compassionate choices we vegans and vegetarians hold dear to us are simple extensions of the values we all already hold. It demystifies, de-radicalizes, and eliminates the foreignness associated with eradicating meat from our diet. Since a cruelty-free lifestyle does not require one to "forsake modern life or overthrow a government," this method of helping others to see that society is designed to conceal the realities of meat, divorcing it from the actual animal, helps people to disassociate veg eating from connotations of extremism, militance, and unfeasibility.

There would be felony charges if what happens to farm animals happened to dogs and cats. Facts like this, compounded with the realization that the horrible videos we watch are just "discrete representations of continuous suffering" often take us down a dangerous path; I, for one, have often been too abrasive and confrontational with the people closest to me regarding vegetarianism/veganism. I can rationalize by saying my hostility was simply a means to a more ideal end, and I hold the people closest to me to higher standards (which is true and I don't regret it), but nonetheless, the Animal Activist Handbook highlights the importance of adopting an attitude of empathy instead of succumbing to a combative mindset. This could not be more crucial in today's society where stubbornness and enmity are all too pervasive and people revel in keeping up their defenses; kindness, understanding, and love are truly the only ways to win. The Handbook details an analysis of Malcom Gladwell's "Tipping Point" theory, looking into people who turned mere fads into deeply permeating trends, and, not surprisingly, those who held friendly, optimistic demeanors were consistently responsible for said feat. It is easier said than done, but if your motivation is derived from your awe-inspiring potential to make this world a more loving place, it is your obligation to sublimate your anger and disgust - it is your obligation to remain truly positive and hopeful.

Sikhism + Veganism

Last night, on Wednesday the 29th, my school's Sikh Association put on an event in remembrance of the 1984 massacre against the Sikhs. It was an emotional night for me. Sikhism has played a huge role in my life - both the absence of it and the presence of it in my daily life have equally shaped me. I was particularly reflective last night because of the continued mentioning of the value of the Sikh turban throughout the event. Sikhs (mostly men, but also some women) wear turbans as a physical signature of their identity - it is a way for us not to shirk away from our duties, to be proud of who we are and to show that to the entire world. It is a way for people to recognize us, so if someone is ever in need, they can decipher a Sikh and know they will go out of their way to help. 

When I was in high school, my hair was shoulder length and all the colors of the rainbow. Eventually I started growing my hair out, and now it's back to its full length and I wear my kara - a bracelet on my dominant arm, which reminds me to act with righteousness and to do good deeds. Last night reiterated to me the value in standing for something, but not just doing so privately. I will always maintain it is better to exude with pride what it is you stand for than to keep your convictions living inwardly, where it cannot radiate outward and inspire others. 

Arguably, my more visibly punk exterior from the past was a way of displaying my convictions, and should not be seen as being of lesser value than my current manner of presentation, but I take pride in the way I look these days because I have evolved to see how my faith has shaped my current ideologies and practices in ways I once did not realize.

Immediately following 9/11, my mother and I put pamphlets about Sikhism in our neighbors’ mailboxes, wrote articles for the local newspaper, gave public service announcements and talks at schools and on the radio, and overall worked tirelessly to prevent the hate and discrimination that was being targeted toward my community. Sikhs were being murdered - innocent family men who happened to wear a turban as an article of faith were being beaten, taunted, and even killed. I remember when I was nine and helping my mom distribute literature at the supermarket, my mother asked a woman “Do you know about the Sikhs?” The lady responded by saying, “I’m sorry, I just moved here from Pennsylvania.”

Ignorance is a disease, and we all have our own ways with which we can quell its spread. There is still much to be done.

My mom's work is still ongoing, and it's proven necessary in light of the Oak Creek shootings in August. A large portion of the fuel to fight my fight is drawn from the brutality I see against beautiful animals whose chances to live a fulfilling life are cut terribly short; but, the underlying motivation to be aware of the fight to begin with comes largely from my faith.

All Sikh temples, called gurudwaras, offer a free meal which all people from all walks of life are encouraged to enjoy. The meal is called langar, meaning "anchor," because we all sit on the floor to eat it as equals, effectively anchoring us to a base of humility. The meal is always vegetarian. Two of Sikhism's biggest truths are to share what you have with others and to live a life of truth (the third is to meditate). In my case, I try to share the right I enjoy to an adequate standard of living with animals who are denied sunlight, safety, food, water, comfort, company of family, and the ability to deliberately secure what they want as a product of their impressive volitional capacities.

I think all Sikhs should be vegetarian or vegan for a number of reasons. Sikhism's gurus - or teachers - are the only religious leaders to fight and die for the protection of other faiths; Guru Tegh Bahadur, the ninth guru of the Sikhs, was martyred for Hinduism as well as Sikhism during a time when India's Mughal rule was attempting to impose Islam on all people. Therefore, inherent in Sikhism is the necessity of dismissing the all too prevalent concept of "otherness." During a time when women would be burned alive upon the death of their husbands, Sikhs spoke out against the disgusting notion that a woman was nothing without a man in her life, showing the revolutionary focus on 100% equality more than 500 years ago. Guru Nanak, our first guru, was born into a Hindu family but rejected the caste system practiced by the predominant religion of the time. His fundamental appreciation for the equality of all was resounding, eventually leading to the Sikh way of life. Living a life of truth, a staple of Sikhism, involves introspecting upon the role we play in society, our relationship with ourself and our world, and evaluating whether our deeds are as pure and positive as they can be. Our relationship to animals is a paramount issue worth reflecting upon, as many neglect this aspect of our lives despite the magnitude of its consequences.

Sikhism's progressive nature, fiercely egalitarian platform, and rejection of hierarchy - when extended to their logical conclusion - ideally would lead to the realization by self-identified Sikhs that non-human animals should not be seen by us as commodities with instrumental value, but as companions, placed here by God, to be respected for having inherent value.

Humility and Choices

"I had no idea it was as terrible as that! We've got to do something!"

These words were spoken by Harry Truman upon learning about the brutal murder of Isaac Woodard, an African American WWII veteran who had been killed upon returning home to the United States. Truman went on to say: "My very stomach turned over when I learned that Negro soldiers were being dumped out of army trucks in Mississippi and beaten. Whatever my inclinations as a native of Missouri might have been, as President I know this is bad." He went on to expand the Civil Rights component of the Justice Department and pass anti-lynching legislation.

I love this anecdote so much because Truman did not let fears of alienating his Southern constituents override his desire to do what he know was right. He also admitted to his previously imperfect views.

Humility is one of the best attributes one can possess. Humility is an absence of the ego, it is a relinquishment of one's pride, and in a great many cases it fosters the most beautiful endeavors for justice and the most powerful emissions of love the world has ever known. When deliberating a personal decision, I believe the right answer is always known from the onset; in other words, it is always felt, first, viscerally, before the mind has time to process it or rationalize it or in many cases, ignore it. 

To grasp firmly on to that elucidation of what is right before our ego tries to distort and skew it, before our ego tries to vindicate our previous course of action which we now know to be flawed, is one of the most noble goals.

Human Liberation, Animal Liberation

A great many issues in this country which begin as inherently moral have become so highly politicized that any discussion surrounding them becomes dry and heavily saturated with platitudes. The food industry is not one such area in which only soundbytes and clichés dominate the conversation. When I first became a vegetarian, and then a vegan, my personal reasons for doing so were largely governed by the abysmal treatment of animals in factory farms, with the health benefits as a close second. However, the arenas of vegetarianism, veganism, and the food industry as a whole, are multifaceted, and are as much about human rights as animal rights.

According to the University of Windsor's recent study on the psychological effects on workers in the slaughterhouse profession, profound trauma has emerged in countless individuals whose job it is to kill the animals which we consume. In short, it is not an overstatement to say that the work these men are employed to perform destroys their psyche, sense of inner peace, and overall well-being. In fact, the book Slaughterhouse: The Shocking Story of Greed, Neglect, and Inhumane Treatment Inside the U.S. Meat Industry, is a great read which not only chronicles the plight of billions of animals, but of the workers who suffer through a significant mental and emotional toll. 

The Texas Observer Article "PTSD in the Slaughterhouse" summarizes this phenomenon perfectly. The fact that these workers are required to take life but forbidden to feel the emotional ramifications of such a task leads to substance abuse, anxiety of many forms, often resulting in domestic violence. Incidentally, the meat packing industry has been the only industry to be singled out by Human Rights Watch for broad workers rights abuses - a testament to the fact that much, much more needs to be done to get society to view the food industry more holistically. The desensitization to which these workers are subjected  adversely affects their ability to adjust into a society where killing is "bad," and a general fondness for animals is "good." 

My personal opinion is that the human spirit is not designed to adapt to such brutality. For the very same reasons why I believe war is unnatural, for the very same reasons I believe that our inclination for compassion innately overrides our propensity for hostility, I wish to see an end to the barbaric practice of slaughtering animals in such a mechanized and inhumane fashion. So, why am I a vegan? I aim to reject cruelty to sentient beings, both non-human and human. I reject the speciesist approach to food consumption, but also view the issue through a human rights paradigm. 

View the Texas Observer article here: http://www.texasobserver.org/eat-your-words/item/18297-ptsd-in-the-slaughterhouse

Chemicals

Wretched. Dirty. Foolish. You've used your lungs for everything but breathing.

Purge this from your system

and discontinue this feeble attempt at a life.

This love affair of yours once brought you calm,

providing for you a close to authentic companionship

and you were inseparable.

A lifelong commitment between parasite and host

destined for glory.

Face it, you fell hard - but for a mere palliative, 

delicately designing your own grave. 

Cease construction; cut your losses.

Resign yourself from this crippling dalliance and

say goodbye. Abandonment is the only answer. 

Reach---reach deep down and discover your willpower

and then cling to it. Bond with it

like those coffin nails used to bond with your lips.

How utterly puzzling that the emptiest of affinities--

the most hollow of liaisons--

can bring us the warmest comfort 

and extract from us the truest, most tender affection.

Animal Rights Filtered Through Sartre

Is it ethical to inflict deliberate harm on a conscious, feeling creature? Does the benefit produced play a role in justifying the pain inflicted?

The philosophy of Jean Paul Sartre makes navigating through these complex questions more lucid. Sartre's "singular universal" principle explicates the notion that every exertion of our personal freedom has a universal dimension to it; thus, whenever faced with a choice of whether to respect the autonomy of or to inflict cruelty on a non-human animal, Sartre's principle, I feel, urges us to consider the ramifications of exerting dominion over another living being, as the universal implications of a single infringement on the rights of a living creature are far-reaching.

Sartre's "singular universal" principle could not be more pertinent to the issue of animal cruelty. The principle prescribes that in making a choice, we affirm the "rightness" of that course of action. Humans, as volitional beings, have a magnificent capacity to envision our lives the way we would like them to be, and we have the potential to change our situation for the better. Before all of this can take place, though, we must accept responsibility for ourselves and our choices. Sartre insists that we have not defined our character until we commit ourselves to a conscious course of action. The ethics of authenticity, in essence, denotes that we are the authors of our lives. That said, it is of utmost importance to consider the magnitude and implications of every choice we make, specifically with regard to the propagation of the dominion over other sentient creatures.

Interestingly, Sartre remarked that people unthinkingly distract themselves with habits and routines, as living consciously and deliberately is often a challenging task. What makes this way of living perhaps more difficult is the fact that as more meat is consumed, people become more distant from farming operations, so, arguably, it requires more effort to remain aware of where our meat comes from. Indeed, once in a while there is a landmark event which forces open the collective eyes of the population. Exploiting animals for entertainment is a centuries-long phenomenon, and yet the issue finally received the attention it deserved upon Michael Vick's dogfighting charges. The Hallmark Meat Company/Westland scandal led to Proposition 2 on California's 2008 ballot initiative (which, effective in 2015, will give factory farmed animals the right to stretch their limbs, stand up, and turn around). In light of the myriad distractions and obligations of modern society, the assignment of maintaining full awareness and consciousness in all our endeavors, although seemingly infeasible, could not be more urgent.  Sartre champions the notion of living life as if we are leading by example - or as if other people will be taking recommendations from us, stating, "for every man, everything happens as if all mankind had its eyes fixed on him and were guiding itself by what he does.” The tremendous nature of this responsibility necessitates that citizens take further steps to deliberate upon the ethics of their decisions with regard to animal welfare. If an individual, upon learning that the United States raises and kills ten billion animals a year in massive, industrial factory farms, continues to consume meat, he or she is neglecting their  responsibility to change the course of society for the better. If that individual continues to consume meat, he or she is affirming the rightness in allowing an animal to writhe and squeal and to experience something aversive to its nature.

Existentialism's first responsibility is to "make every man aware of what he is and to make the full responsibility of his existence rest on him.” Compounding this sentiment with the "singular universal" principle leads to the postulate that man must understand how the progression of both his life and the world, in effect, rest on him. Therefore, if the propagation of dominionism - the notion that things only exist for our benefit - has been seen to affect society deleteriously, man's obligation is to forge personal endeavors to cease his participation in such practices. The idea that animals are commodities with only extrinsic or conditional value has not only caused undue suffering to innumerable creatures, but has percolated into mankind's abuses against nature as a whole. In according every sentient being the right not to be treated as a resource, we take part in thwarting the injurious process of self-glorification which directly leads to the exploitation of everything non-human. A practical example of implementing such ethics is as follows: an individual has a choice to purchase wheat and soy based meat facsimiles, in vitro tested cosmetics, synthetic fiber for clothing, and so on, with no sacrifice to his or her quality of life. The conscious decision to invest in such products sends a message to the involved industries, competing industries, and future prospective buyers that it is ethically offensive to exploit animals even if there exists an economic benefit to humans; it issues a declaration that it is morally reprehensible for animals with cognitive, attitudinal, sensory, and volitional capacities to be abused simply because they are seen as intellectually less endowed or less autonomous. Thus, the individual successfully adheres to the "singular universal" in playing his or her respective role in shaping society, resulting from the determination to make conscious, engaged decisions.

In rejecting the exploitations of non-human animals, we recognize and act upon the need to abandon our prejudicial paradigms. Mankind's speciesist abuse of animals has directly coincided with our anthropocentric abuses toward once majestic landscapes, as well as the rest of nature. Therefore, in exercising more ethically sound actions toward non-human animals, we make a positive, beneficial use of the "singular universal" principle, as distorted moral relationships toward animals percolate and transcend into distorted, harmful relationships toward other sectors of the world. Many animals, like humans, feel pain, pleasure, remember the past, anticipate the future, and act intentionally to secure what they want in the present. It is our duty to treat them with respect, as, perhaps, in according dignity and reverence to creatures and landscapes which were here before mankind, respect instead of exploitation will become the norm for inter-species relationships, interpersonal relationships, and man's relationship with the environment.

Naturally

I've always been fond of alternative, Eastern medicines, as well as the power of yoga and prayer to heal, both mentally and physically. In recent years I've become a strong proponent of the notion that all remedies, all joy, all epiphanies, and all solutions to all problems lie in Nature. To see or to feel the validation of this sentiment gives me such a high in the most spiritual sense. Whether to alleviate a mental or emotional affliction (such as going outside for a stroll to cure the blues) or to treat a physical ailment with a whole foods, plant based diet, every day I become more sure that the Natural world, in all its splendor, harbors everything for which we could ever ask.

I've touched upon this in some of my earlier postings pertaining to Thoreau and Walden, but it's no surprise that depression is becoming more rampant, and presenting itself earlier and earlier, as people become more insular and technology more pervasive. Modern amenities certainly have their time and place, and I am no advocate of total resignation from these 21st century fixtures, but to strike a balance between being the global citizen of our contemporary age and harnessing that primal animal who craves fresh air and tacitly longs to connect with nature would be an ideal pursuit.

I recently read that not only do apples lower cholesterol and benefit our lungs and colon, but they assist us neurologically, too, by preventing dementia. The earliest mentions of pickled cucumber appear in the legend of Gilgamesh! If you think about it, eating more natural foods is not only away to healthily nurture your body - your vessel - but it is a wholesome way to connect with our history as a species.

"Without health life is not life; it is only a state of langour and suffering - an image of death. To keep the body in good health is a duty... otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear." -Buddha

Cogs

Spinning, slowly, ceaselessly spinning.
This dance of repetition -
less an art form as it is a bleak portrayal of mere functionality.
How dismal to be reduced to a function - a single task, but,
how sinfully glorious to be designated a life of mediocrity.
I cannot leap, so I cannot fall. Cannot fail.

Cogs:

We pivot, slowly, consistently on a path not our own.
A journey is something we will never know,
never live,
never breathe -
for a journey recalls the joy of choice and the thrill of conscious endeavor.
We just spin.

We rotate, turning but never changing, never hastening toward a different scenery where life exists apart from chains and bounds, gears and numbing, jejune mechanics.

I can inhale the scent of independence lurking around the corner,
I can almost feel the warmth from that glimmering prospect of wandering, of deliverance, of uncertainty -
of twirling about in my own waltz in which I am both conductor and star.

Almost.

I ache for collision. For some disruption. This array of cycles makes one unfathomably sick.

Living Under the Influence.

I always thought it was bizarre that if someone were to accidentally kill or injure another human being while driving under the influence, their penalty, in many cases, would be less severe compared to if the driver were sober. It always struck me as pretty disturbing that simply because the driver's faculties weren't completely present, he's not as completely at fault. While I still find this odd, I now understand the logic. Perhaps this line of thinking should apply to people who claim to be in love.

Love can be an addiction just as potent as those registered under DEA Schedule I - often, more so. The high can be just as euphoric, and the consequences, just as damaging.

We often hear people advising, "never trust an addict," and yet the people closest to us who are addicted to love are the people we trust with absolutely everything. We let them into our space, physical and emotional, and we give them permission to stay, permission to take what they want - from our refrigerated items to our most personal secrets. Yet, we insist on feeling betrayed when things do not go as planned and our partner falters in some aspect. Why the sense of betrayal?

"I want this to last forever."

"I want to be in your life always."

"I would do absolutely anything for you."

How seriously should the above statements be taken when the producer of these words has an abnormal spike of oxytocin in their brain - or an excess of seratonin?

It's a difficult question to answer. No one wants to go through a relationship with a cynical attitude, and no one really wants to be overly cautious so as to not run the risk of having inadvertently lied, at some point. We all want to be sincere. Time (compounded with reflection), of course, is the only entity which can provide true clarity, but, by then you would have already invested yourself so fully, so completely into the relationship at hand - all your emotions, all your dreams, your saltshakers and coffeepots, your love and unintentional lies.

Such is the paradox of love.

"Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Life and Love

I believe every child at some point in their life has proclaimed to their parent some version or another of: "You don't understand." However, not every child is so lucky as to truly believe their parent when they respond, smiling, "Of course, I do." 

Last night my parents and I were watching one of my favorite movies, (500) Days of Summer. It was one of the seldom nights where my dad came home from work not utterly exhausted, so I seized the opportunity to show him one movie I know and love that consistently culminates in debate and analysis after viewing. I love everything about that movie, which isn't to say, though, that it doesn't distress me every time I watch it. During the part where Summer visits Tom's apartment, late at night, after they fought about the "scene" he made at the bar, Summer says to Tom:

"I shouldn't have done that - gotten mad at you."

Tom replies,

"Look, I know we don't have to put labels on it, I get that, but I need some consistency... I need to know that you're not going to wake up in the morning and feel differently."

Heartbreakingly, frustratingly, and any other adverb imaginable that can convey a mix of melancholy and puzzlement, Summer remarks, "I can't give that to you, no one can."

I turned to my dad and asked him, "Is that true? Can no one really provide that?" He smiled and told me to ask him again after the movie. 

Once the film finished, he sat up and got into discussion mode. He said, "Gunita, trust is the outcome of a relationship - not the precondition." He went on to explain that if the relationship at hand matures enough over time, Tom's expectation is a perfectly reasonable one to have. In a beautiful elaboration, he quoted M. Scott Peck, author of The Road Less Traveled. Peck says that "falling in love" is when two people pair up, and their individual "ego boundaries" dissolve. "One by one, gradually or suddenly, the ego boundaries snap back into place; gradually or suddenly, they fall out of love. Once again they are two separate individuals. At this point they begin either to dissolve the ties of their relationship or to initiate the work of real loving."

When Peck talks about "ego boundaries," he doesn't mean the ego which connotes arrogance or pretense; he means the mechanism in our mind which gives us our own identity, separate from the relationship of which we are a part. 

I've maintained for a long time now that love is not so much an emotion as it is a conscious, willfull decision we make. So, I resonate very much with the notion Peck describes - initiating the work of real loving - as it involves the reconciliation of your personal identity, goals, values, etc, with the goals and nature of the relationship. However, I explained to my dad that I feel as if the only way to ensure that you don't enter a relationship which ends up being predicated on falsities is to make sure you feel as if you're a complete, whole person who doesn't need external validation all before you commit to another human being. My parents, simultaneously and resoundingly exclaimed that this is a difficult prospect. It was at this point that I delivered my "You don't understand," and my dad lovingly followed with an "Of course, I do."

I vacillate between being certain and uncertain that I can achieve that ideal state of self-sufficiency before entering whatever relationship the Universe has in store for me. Perhaps, though, real love is when you feel completely at peace with some degree of dependency, and one becomes ripe for love once they realize the difference between dependency which is healthy and that which is not.

Focus: Dad

Going to India is always a thrill for me. When I was younger, the joy probably sprouted mostly from sightseeing and getting exotic trinkets here and there. As I got older, the value began to principally spring from getting to know the family better, as most all of my dad's family lives there. Now, I'd say, the best parts of coming to India are a combination of family time as well as gaining more knowledge about my roots.

This time around, one of the most memorable parts of the trip was actually the five hour car ride from Delhi to Punjab. We left at four in the morning and I slept most of the way there. My dad went so far as to ask our hotel if we could borrow a pillow and blanket so I would be as comfortable as possible during what has, historically, always been the most dreaded car ride of the India trip. Needless to say, I was quite comfortable. As the sun started to rise, my eyes fluttered open every now and again; my eyes were drawn to my father's face, which, I haven't really been able to examine in a long while. When you live with someone, you never notice the subtle changes in their appearance. Even when he comes to visit me at college, the moments are so packed with my endless descriptions of teachers, friends, course material, complaints about the dining hall, etc., that we never get to truly embrace the simplicity of being in each others' presence. So when my eyes fluttered open, I noticed the thin lines around my dad's eyes which had not been there before.

It was strange to finally see the physical manifestations of his age.

My whole life, my dad's had the inquisitive nature of a small child, the energy of an enthused twenty-something, and the wisdom of an old man.

Everpresent Conundrums.

Every battle that takes place in my mind always concludes with the same ceasefire: Balance. Balance solves every conundrum, it is the remedy for all uneasiness and is the goal for anyone on a mission toward holistic self-improvement. My most recent quandary deals with the fact that peace is attained through a genuine acceptance of one's place in life. One's situation must fully be embraced and accepted for the purest calm to reign in the mind. However, having goals, in my opinion, is the only real thing that makes life meaningful; having an objective to strive for inherently means that you cannot simply accept the way things are - instead, you must have some inner drive not to settle for the way things are but to keep pacing towards progress. Both are necessary, hence the contradiction I'm struggling with which inevitably should result in balance.

Maybe part of the problem is that I'm using dissatisfaction with certain aspects of my life as the driving force behind wanting to make improvements, and instead, I should sublimate that dissatisfaction into a sense of gratitude that I'm alive and healthy and very much in a position to make necessary changes and improvements. This is tough for me though. Perhaps the single quote that's made the biggest impact on me in recent years has been the following: "Suffering arises when our view of the way things ought to be doesn't match the way things are." (This is from a phenomenal book called Dharma Punx.) This quote made such an impact on me because it helped me tremendously with working on my state of mind. One time I remember walking in Manhattan and it started to rain, ruining my hair. Before I was able to get flustered, I quietly muttered to myself "It's okay that it's raining. Even though my evening won't go completely as planned, rain is a part of nature and nature is perfect." This mental exercise, inspired by that one quote, allowed me to not for a second get distraught over the triviality which I would have otherwise fixated on. This sentiment has helped me with other, more important things as well, such as dealing with pain (physical and emotional). For the first time though I find myself unsatisfied with my ability to apply the core of that quote to certain parts of my life - and I actually take some pride in that. This is because there are certain things, like one's most meaningful relationships, in which it would be utterly insulting to apply a mere acceptance of the status quo without working to improve every aspect of your dynamic with the people you care about.

So now I'm starting to realize that the quote, "Suffering arises when your view of the way things ought to be doesn't match the way things are," remains relevant to things solely beyond your control. For the parts of your life you can influence, however, improvement is always possible and is in fact a necessity which warrants the opposite of placid acceptance.

Chipped Teacups

I am a cup that used to be filled with love, filled with hope. Filled with ease, filled with calm.

Most of the contact I've had over the years has been with serrated edges: objects too hard and sharp for my delicacy.

Consequently my once smooth edges have cracked - at the base, at the rim, inside and outside, making me brittle. All this hope and love and ease and calm slipped right through. It began gradually, but soon these elements gushed right through my fractures to find a new, less broken home.

I sat on my dish patiently. I stopped waiting for sweet contents to pour back into me because I accepted that sweetness deserved a safe and elegant chalice. I, however, was neither of these. Thus, I sought bitterness and acidity. These would settle for a dreadful thing like me.

Time passed and I became more worn down and anything and everything I once accommodated has depleted. Left empty and utterly irreparable, I once more sat alone.

Then came You: harboring no intentions of piecing me back together with adhesive -

Because You found me perfect just as I am.

Thoughts on a Plane.