Yes, I am posting Day 3 on Day 4. My excuse? Long day, super long (but fantastic) run with Gatsby, and I fell asleep early watching season 2 of Doctor Who.
Okay, now that we have that out of the way it's time for whatever Bucket List things I can remember this morning.
In no particular order.
- Visit Istanbul (I want to go there more than any place in the world).
- Walk on a glacier.
- Walk on a volcano.
- Eat a javelina. (Nope. Not kidding.)
- Ride in a hot air balloon (a proper trip, not just up and then down while tethered to the ground).
- Run a 10k.
- Get married and have a child.
- Name a dog "Hemingway."
- Learn how to make crepes (instead of "craps").
- Eat fugu (poisonous Japanese pufferfish that much be prepared with great precision to remove toxic parts and avoid contaminating the meat).
- Convince everyone I know to love beets!
That's all I can think of at the moment, so it will have to do.
What are some goals on your Bucket List?
Here are Yvonne and Danielle's posts!
Day 3: Yvonne
Day 3: Dani
16 January 2014
14 January 2014
Blog Challenge Day 2: Two
Two. Not alone and not a crowd.
All day I have been tossing this topic around my head off and on, here and there, to and fro.
I still haven't come up with anything particularly interesting to write about. Instead, the number two has irregularly interrupted me with "hey, here's something!" throughout the day. Here is an incomplete list of whatever my stream of consciousness decided to spew forth. Or at least the ones I can remember.
I'm bipolar with moods that swing between depression and mania, occasionally leveling out to something resembling a middle ground, but are more often one of those two (to a greater or lesser degree).
I have two dogs.
Two hands and two feet. Two of several other anatomical things, but we'll stop here.
I'm torn between two sets of life choices; each with two options. Leaning toward one and smack dab in the middle of the other two.
As a perennially single person I don't have much experience being one of two.
Currently my hair is plaited into two braids.
All in all? I'm not entirely sure I care for the number two. Even with dogs; I prefer to have three.
For more Two-ness check out Yvonne's Day 2 blog!
Day 2 by Danielle!
All day I have been tossing this topic around my head off and on, here and there, to and fro.
I still haven't come up with anything particularly interesting to write about. Instead, the number two has irregularly interrupted me with "hey, here's something!" throughout the day. Here is an incomplete list of whatever my stream of consciousness decided to spew forth. Or at least the ones I can remember.
I'm bipolar with moods that swing between depression and mania, occasionally leveling out to something resembling a middle ground, but are more often one of those two (to a greater or lesser degree).
I have two dogs.
Two hands and two feet. Two of several other anatomical things, but we'll stop here.
I'm torn between two sets of life choices; each with two options. Leaning toward one and smack dab in the middle of the other two.
As a perennially single person I don't have much experience being one of two.
Currently my hair is plaited into two braids.
All in all? I'm not entirely sure I care for the number two. Even with dogs; I prefer to have three.
For more Two-ness check out Yvonne's Day 2 blog!
Day 2 by Danielle!
13 January 2014
The Garnet and Yvonne Blog Challenge Day 1: NEW!
My friend and fellow writer Yvonne have embarked on a 31 day blogging challenge. Each day, a new topic. Today's topic is "new."
"New" is not the word I would use to describe the beginning of any of the past few years. They felt more like a continuation of the same pattern than anything resembling a glimpse of horizon or the crack of a new door.
This year is different. It didn't dramatically click into a higher gear at midnight on the 31st, of course. Most changes brew and steep for so long that we don't notice them until they've arrived and smack us in the face. Of course some changes just up and smack you in the face, but that's a topic for another day.
I began 2013 with two dogs. I spent nearly all of 2013 with three dogs. I began 2014, again, with two dogs. Through the third dog, Foxtrot, I built new friendships with women I may not have otherwise gotten to know.
Fox brought a lot of newness into my life from the day I met him at the airport in Las Cruces, NM. He was also covered in diarrhea, but I digress...
Fox wasn't an "easy" dog. He was like an adult human who was raised by wolves. Or a adult dog who was raised by alligators and needed to be sent back to puppy school.
At first we didn't always understand each other and became easily frustrated by one another's incomprehensible behaviour. I've said to many people that Fox's "saving grace" was his exceptionally good temperament even when his manners bordered on barbaric.
The relationship that we shared was a very special one and for the first time in my life a dog taught me more about people than he did about dogs.
You don't have to understand someone or why they do what they do to love them.
Judging a dog harshly for doing something that doesn't make sense to you is pointless. So is judging a person on the same grounds.
Most of the time when someone does something that bothers you or doesn't do something that you wish/think they should... it's not about you.
Sometimes I'm a hermit. It's my way of limiting the stress in my life so that I can be healthier and as a result happier. It isn't a personal slight.
Sometimes Fox would do something like dig a hole into the yard next door to chase a stray cat at 3am and then get too scared to come back though the hole he'd just dug and pace around whining pathetically. At 3am. Even though I had to climb onto my shed, over the fence, drag something next to the fence on the other side so I climb onto it and boost his lead butt back into our yard, and then climb back over the fence myself. At 3am.
I was extremely irritated, beyond tired, and the entire situation was so frustrating I wanted to cry.
But you know what? It wasn't about me.
"New" is not the word I would use to describe the beginning of any of the past few years. They felt more like a continuation of the same pattern than anything resembling a glimpse of horizon or the crack of a new door.
This year is different. It didn't dramatically click into a higher gear at midnight on the 31st, of course. Most changes brew and steep for so long that we don't notice them until they've arrived and smack us in the face. Of course some changes just up and smack you in the face, but that's a topic for another day.
I began 2013 with two dogs. I spent nearly all of 2013 with three dogs. I began 2014, again, with two dogs. Through the third dog, Foxtrot, I built new friendships with women I may not have otherwise gotten to know.
Fox brought a lot of newness into my life from the day I met him at the airport in Las Cruces, NM. He was also covered in diarrhea, but I digress...
Fox wasn't an "easy" dog. He was like an adult human who was raised by wolves. Or a adult dog who was raised by alligators and needed to be sent back to puppy school.
At first we didn't always understand each other and became easily frustrated by one another's incomprehensible behaviour. I've said to many people that Fox's "saving grace" was his exceptionally good temperament even when his manners bordered on barbaric.
The relationship that we shared was a very special one and for the first time in my life a dog taught me more about people than he did about dogs.
You don't have to understand someone or why they do what they do to love them.
Judging a dog harshly for doing something that doesn't make sense to you is pointless. So is judging a person on the same grounds.
Most of the time when someone does something that bothers you or doesn't do something that you wish/think they should... it's not about you.
Sometimes I'm a hermit. It's my way of limiting the stress in my life so that I can be healthier and as a result happier. It isn't a personal slight.
Sometimes Fox would do something like dig a hole into the yard next door to chase a stray cat at 3am and then get too scared to come back though the hole he'd just dug and pace around whining pathetically. At 3am. Even though I had to climb onto my shed, over the fence, drag something next to the fence on the other side so I climb onto it and boost his lead butt back into our yard, and then climb back over the fence myself. At 3am.
I was extremely irritated, beyond tired, and the entire situation was so frustrating I wanted to cry.
But you know what? It wasn't about me.
 |
| Foxtrot stole my Kindle. |
Check out Yvonne's Day One - "New" post here!
Hooray! Dani, my sister in awesome rapid biopolar illness had joined the challenge!
Read her Day One - "New/Nude?" post here!
Hooray! Dani, my sister in awesome rapid biopolar illness had joined the challenge!
Read her Day One - "New/Nude?" post here!
10 January 2014
Complete Education
Yesterday I watched a superb TED Talk given by 13 year old Logan Laplante on the shortcomings of traditional education, the benefits of homeschooling/hack-schooling, the vital need to create more comprehensive, innovative methods of educating children and what he wants to be when he grows up.
The topics he spoke about really struck a nerve in me. As someone who, although highly educated, has very little traditional schooling beyond high school (other than a handful of unfinished college degrees in a variety of disciplines), I found his words both credible and inspiring.
My education, from childhood onward, has been almost entirely auto-didactic. I left high school after my sophomore year and earned my GED when I was 18. Even though I scored 68 (only 40 points were required to pass), my lack of formal education has been a source of embarrassment and shame throughout most of my adult life. Not holding a degree and having dropped out of college multiple times has given many people the impression that I'm uneducated and lack a desire to learn, even though I continue to read and study far in excess of most adults, who so often seem to think that education stops once you have a framed piece of paper.
Gradually I have become less ashamed of my lack of certification to prove that I know-what-I-know and Logan's enthusiastic pragmatism has pushed me even further along not only the path of self acceptance, but into the realm of actually being proud of my unique and unconventional education. I didn't complete classes or earn grades due to the requirements of the public school system or pressure from college professors and my parents. My love of learning is motivated by my insatiable curiosity and desire to understand the world around me and the wealth of knowledge that we are so fortunate to literally have at our fingertips.
You know what? I really am proud of myself and my accomplishments.
My education, from childhood onward, has been almost entirely auto-didactic. I left high school after my sophomore year and earned my GED when I was 18. Even though I scored 68 (only 40 points were required to pass), my lack of formal education has been a source of embarrassment and shame throughout most of my adult life. Not holding a degree and having dropped out of college multiple times has given many people the impression that I'm uneducated and lack a desire to learn, even though I continue to read and study far in excess of most adults, who so often seem to think that education stops once you have a framed piece of paper.
Gradually I have become less ashamed of my lack of certification to prove that I know-what-I-know and Logan's enthusiastic pragmatism has pushed me even further along not only the path of self acceptance, but into the realm of actually being proud of my unique and unconventional education. I didn't complete classes or earn grades due to the requirements of the public school system or pressure from college professors and my parents. My love of learning is motivated by my insatiable curiosity and desire to understand the world around me and the wealth of knowledge that we are so fortunate to literally have at our fingertips.
You know what? I really am proud of myself and my accomplishments.
07 November 2013
Home Sweet Home: The Country, The City, & The Desert
This post has been a long time coming, but I simply haven't been up to writing for the past few weeks between my trip to Michigan and Chicago from October 11th to the 22nd and the post-travel descent into a steady, but mild depression which has persisted more or less.
The trip itself was full of family, friends, reunions, food, dogs & horses, etc. as expected. What I hadn't anticipated was my feelings toward and reactions to those things.
Michigan: I flew into GRR after lovely delays at PHX and ORD on Friday the 11th. The weekend was so busy with family things that it flew by. The following week was slower: horseback riding lessons, trail rides, dinner with my grandparents (a traditional Southern fish fry!), and other things that I can't recall.
I finally got to meet my favourite cousin's husband; we went out for an amazing breakfast (if you're in Grand Rapids, MI you cannot miss eating at Marie Catrib's) and visited a couple of farmer's markets before heading to Ionia for day-before-the-field-trial socializing, running dogs, and grilling. (Venison backstrap stuffed with cheddar/venison sausage and pheasant, quail, & chukar wrapped in ham then grilled... enough said!)
I postponed my train to Chicago from Friday to Sunday morning so that I could meet an amazingly awesome Facebook friend face-to-face, meet her incredible dogs, and attend my very first Field Trial. Also, my very first time riding a Tennessee Walker after a week of lessons on a Quarter Horse/Paint/American Pony. Needless to say, going from riding Western to using an endurance saddle on a gaited horse was not a smooth transition initially.
Overall: Enjoyed the time I spent with my immediate and extended family with a lot less stress and anxiety has predicted. I ate WAY more food than I ever do on a daily basis and gained a few pounds (to compound the weight I've gained back from being off running due to a sprained ankle). Fie on that. I really loved being "back home" on my family's property, but I still rather loathe the tiny, podunk town itself. I've never felt at home there and still don't. It's my hometown, but not my home.
~*~
Chicago: Firstly, the train I always take back and forth between Chicago and Grand Rapids, MI is the Pere Marquette which runs on the same track, backwards and forwards. Which means I was facing backwards during the entire train trip, yet still felt and knew the moment we hit the city even without looking out of the window (I was actually reading my Kindle at the time). Returning to Chicago has always had that same feeling. Like a clenched muscle finally releasing and relaxing; this time after nearly five years.
The city has always felt like home to me, from the first day I arrived in June of 2004 when I was 21. It still does, nine and a half years later. Walking from Union Station to the Quincy brown like El station I was annoyed by meandering tourists and the ever present pigeons (undoubtedly fed by the same irritating tourists, even though it's illegal and you can be fined). I impatiently waited for my train while basking in the warmth of the heat lamps (ah, the luxury!). Got off in my old 'hood to see new chains has sprouted up (Jamba Juice, Potbelly's, H&R Block etc.) on a street formerly occupied almost entirely by local, small businesses. Thank gawd Clarke's diner (24 hour diner w/ booze), Belmont army surplus, Blue Havana, and Ragstock were still in place. I walked past another shop, whose name I cannot recall, and was cheered to see a leather jock strap clad mannquin in the window. Same ol', same ol' Lakeview (name of the neighbourhood).
I stayed with a dear, old friend whom I hadn't seen since I moved from Chicago to Los Angeles (yuck) almost four and a half years ago. Another part of Chicago that hadn't changed or if so, only for the better (good people are like good scotch as someone, somewhere once said). Although my visit had been cut short by two days, my time in Chicago was as charming and comfortable as rereading a favourite book that had been misplaced for a time. On top of that, I was finally over the inevitable jet lag. Yes!
Overall: Even after six states, well over a dozen addresses, and three cross country moves Chicago remains the only place that has ever truly felt like my home. Obviously my dogs would be miserable living in the city proper, but somewhere on the outskirts (within Metra train commute to the city) with an acre or two? Yes ma'am. Room for the dogs, room for a large garden, and transit into the city for sushi, Middle Eastern grocery stores, art galleries, museums, the food festival, street fairs, and the Lakeshore.
I missed the city from the pit of my stomach even as I stood on the sidewalk waiting for a cab to O'Hare (for the umpteenth time in my life).
~*~
Tucson: I don't know if it was from post-travel exhaustion or what, but returning to Tucson was underwhelming. The three and a half years I've lived here has been the best three and a half years of my life. I adopted my dogs, I've made lifelong friends, and have personally evolved more than I'd have thought possible only a few years ago. Still, I feel like the well has gone dry and it's time to move to greener pastures. (Yes, that is a very topical Arizona and Midwest analogy.)
The past fifteen days (the number of days I've been back in Tucson) have been largely spent puttering around the house and watching movies on Netflix. Basically, I've been a hermit with a few very notable exceptions: repairing friendships between myself and the people I love the most in this town. Otherwise, going to the grocery store and a doctor's appointment have been my sole excursions.
Lessons learned? My hometown is in Michigan. Chicago is my home. Tucson is not really my home.
(P.S. I didn't feel like proofing this post, except for a bit as I wrote, so please forgive any errors. I'll get around to fixing them eventually. Thanks!)
The trip itself was full of family, friends, reunions, food, dogs & horses, etc. as expected. What I hadn't anticipated was my feelings toward and reactions to those things.
Michigan: I flew into GRR after lovely delays at PHX and ORD on Friday the 11th. The weekend was so busy with family things that it flew by. The following week was slower: horseback riding lessons, trail rides, dinner with my grandparents (a traditional Southern fish fry!), and other things that I can't recall.
One of the biggest highlights of my entire "vacation" was the couple of days I spent in Grand Rapids catching up with two of my closest, dearest friends whom I've known 10+ years and hadn't seen in two years. Wine, snacks, watching "The Lost Boys," having a beer & crack fries at Hop Cat and cackling hysterically as we shared old "war" stories (or what we could remember of them). I missed them the moment I left.
I finally got to meet my favourite cousin's husband; we went out for an amazing breakfast (if you're in Grand Rapids, MI you cannot miss eating at Marie Catrib's) and visited a couple of farmer's markets before heading to Ionia for day-before-the-field-trial socializing, running dogs, and grilling. (Venison backstrap stuffed with cheddar/venison sausage and pheasant, quail, & chukar wrapped in ham then grilled... enough said!)
Overall: Enjoyed the time I spent with my immediate and extended family with a lot less stress and anxiety has predicted. I ate WAY more food than I ever do on a daily basis and gained a few pounds (to compound the weight I've gained back from being off running due to a sprained ankle). Fie on that. I really loved being "back home" on my family's property, but I still rather loathe the tiny, podunk town itself. I've never felt at home there and still don't. It's my hometown, but not my home.
~*~
Chicago: Firstly, the train I always take back and forth between Chicago and Grand Rapids, MI is the Pere Marquette which runs on the same track, backwards and forwards. Which means I was facing backwards during the entire train trip, yet still felt and knew the moment we hit the city even without looking out of the window (I was actually reading my Kindle at the time). Returning to Chicago has always had that same feeling. Like a clenched muscle finally releasing and relaxing; this time after nearly five years.
The city has always felt like home to me, from the first day I arrived in June of 2004 when I was 21. It still does, nine and a half years later. Walking from Union Station to the Quincy brown like El station I was annoyed by meandering tourists and the ever present pigeons (undoubtedly fed by the same irritating tourists, even though it's illegal and you can be fined). I impatiently waited for my train while basking in the warmth of the heat lamps (ah, the luxury!). Got off in my old 'hood to see new chains has sprouted up (Jamba Juice, Potbelly's, H&R Block etc.) on a street formerly occupied almost entirely by local, small businesses. Thank gawd Clarke's diner (24 hour diner w/ booze), Belmont army surplus, Blue Havana, and Ragstock were still in place. I walked past another shop, whose name I cannot recall, and was cheered to see a leather jock strap clad mannquin in the window. Same ol', same ol' Lakeview (name of the neighbourhood).
I stayed with a dear, old friend whom I hadn't seen since I moved from Chicago to Los Angeles (yuck) almost four and a half years ago. Another part of Chicago that hadn't changed or if so, only for the better (good people are like good scotch as someone, somewhere once said). Although my visit had been cut short by two days, my time in Chicago was as charming and comfortable as rereading a favourite book that had been misplaced for a time. On top of that, I was finally over the inevitable jet lag. Yes!
Overall: Even after six states, well over a dozen addresses, and three cross country moves Chicago remains the only place that has ever truly felt like my home. Obviously my dogs would be miserable living in the city proper, but somewhere on the outskirts (within Metra train commute to the city) with an acre or two? Yes ma'am. Room for the dogs, room for a large garden, and transit into the city for sushi, Middle Eastern grocery stores, art galleries, museums, the food festival, street fairs, and the Lakeshore.
I missed the city from the pit of my stomach even as I stood on the sidewalk waiting for a cab to O'Hare (for the umpteenth time in my life).
~*~
Tucson: I don't know if it was from post-travel exhaustion or what, but returning to Tucson was underwhelming. The three and a half years I've lived here has been the best three and a half years of my life. I adopted my dogs, I've made lifelong friends, and have personally evolved more than I'd have thought possible only a few years ago. Still, I feel like the well has gone dry and it's time to move to greener pastures. (Yes, that is a very topical Arizona and Midwest analogy.)
The past fifteen days (the number of days I've been back in Tucson) have been largely spent puttering around the house and watching movies on Netflix. Basically, I've been a hermit with a few very notable exceptions: repairing friendships between myself and the people I love the most in this town. Otherwise, going to the grocery store and a doctor's appointment have been my sole excursions.
Lessons learned? My hometown is in Michigan. Chicago is my home. Tucson is not really my home.
(P.S. I didn't feel like proofing this post, except for a bit as I wrote, so please forgive any errors. I'll get around to fixing them eventually. Thanks!)
09 October 2013
Not Just the Sky Diving Post
It's almost a quarter after one in the morning and I don't feel like composing my thoughts about skydiving. Basically it wasn't that fun. Not scary. The free fall was awful and seemed to last forever. Maybe it wouldn't have sucked if I had a full face helmet on like my tandem-pro. The parachute part wasn't bad, but let's face it. The middle of the desert doesn't have much in the way of picturesque landscape. It's mostly brown. With dots of scrub brush, cacti, & cholla. There are mountains. Which are mostly shades of brown.
I feel guilty, but I just didn't enjoy it. I'm proud of myself that I was able to jump (har har) that far outside my comfort zone.
The best part of sky diving? Weighing in! I'm down to 143. To put that into perspective I have lost 33 lbs. in the past year. WOOHOO!!
Okay, onto the extras. Time to reveal secrets.
I feel guilty, but I just didn't enjoy it. I'm proud of myself that I was able to jump (har har) that far outside my comfort zone.
The best part of sky diving? Weighing in! I'm down to 143. To put that into perspective I have lost 33 lbs. in the past year. WOOHOO!!
Okay, onto the extras. Time to reveal secrets.
- I like Taylor Swift
- I hate the colour red, but I own one item of red clothing because it's a blouse with tiny GSPs on it.
- I am blowing off two days in Chicago to meet a good friend, her dogs, and attend a field trial. Yup. That's how you rank, Chi-town! Let's face it: everything comes in second place when it comes to German shorthaired pointers and GSP friends.
- I don't skirts that are above the knee and only own skirts that hit just below the knee or a couple inches beyond (which is perfection). Call me a prude. I'm really not, but I guess I'm modest. Part of being a 30 old spinster?
- I fixed my garbage disposal tonight. Without gloves because apparently they have holes in them. Grody! But I fixed it, damnit.
- I secretly listen to pop music (like, recent stuff) when I am cleaning the house. I don't even know the names of most of the songs or "artists" except that I always recognize Taylor Swift. Did I mention that I like her? It's true; and not just because she's a spokesperson for KEDS (which I LOVE), although that gives her bonus points.
- I sometimes decorate my house for Christmas during months which are not December. Or even near December. It cheers me up. So who cares? (It's a good thing I live alone and the dogs don't care what I do or don't do.)
23 September 2013
14 September 2013
Food Karma: Hunting
I'd like to begin by saying that I eat a mostly vegetarian diet. Pretty close to vegan with the exception of eggs locally raised with love by a friend and the occasional bottle or jar of kefir. Okay, I love Middle Eastern yogurt (think Greek yogurt... but better). I love cheese, but am horribly allergic to lactose so there goes that temptation (most of the time). 99% of the time I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole. Or any other pole. Or any other Pole.
Anyway. Back to the subject of eating animals which is what I meant to talk about in the first place. As a very Buddhist leaning Agnostic, I do overall believe in not harming other living beings or contributing to their suffering.
I especially do not eat factory farmed animals who have endured lives of great suffering (regardless of what the FDA or USDA finds acceptable), which means you won't catch me buying meat, poultry, eggs, or dairy from my local supermarket. I am not against the consumption of meat as food but I am completely against playing a part in a practice that I find inhumane to the point of barbarism. By giving those companies my money I would not only be condoning their practices, but playing a vital role in ensuring these unethical practices continue.
I cannot count the number of people I've spoken to about food and their diets only to be told, "well if I knew where it came from, I couldn't eat it." That should tell you something right there.
Which brings me to a rather contentious point. A friend of mine who is a Buddhist sometimes eats meat. While he is respectful of the animal that gave it's life, which is in a likelihood feedlot beef, he was completely appalled and absolutely livid that I am considering learning to hunt.
Deliberately killing another living creature does incur bad karma. Killing is bad; we all basically know that right? But how does eating the meat of an animal that spent most it's life in unsanitary, cramped, and inhumane conditions bestow less negative karma simply because you didn't personally commit the act of slaughter? Is there a karmic loophole I am not aware of? Someone else gets the full burden of bad karma from taking an animal's life and you get to enjoy cheeseburger while enjoying a lesser karmic weight? I find this completely unethical and dishonest to the point of hypocrisy. You're actively participating in perpetuating the suffering of living creatures. How does this have less karmic impact? I don't believe it does. It has more because you've made the deliberate decision to participate in the continuation of a cycle of cruelty.
Moving onto the topic of hunting, how does eating conventionally grown meat or poultry incur less karmic debt or guilt than killing a wild animal quickly and humanely, respecting the animal that gave it's life, the life that you took, and then feeding your family and friends? At least you own that karma instead of hiding behind plastic packaged hunks of skinned, de-boned barely recognizable flesh.
Is it because the former removes you from the nitty gritty far enough that you can stomach the food products you consume? Food that would probably turn you into a vegan if slaughter houses had glass walls?
I'm not going to lie; wild animals don't live in an idyllic paradise any more than the milk you drink or butter you eat comes from cows that graze in the technicolor pastures next to Old McDonald's freshly painted red barn. The difference is that wild animals have the chance to participate in nature and are a part of the natural world; domestic animals raised in factory like farms called CAFOs (Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations) have zero chance of living anything resembling a normal, natural or humane life. They are little more than commodities processed through streamlined, industrial systems.
If you're okay voting for those practices with your hard earned money that choice is yours to make. We all have that choice. I choose not to.
Returning to hunting, I grew up in Michigan where hunting has always had a sense of normalcy to me even though I went through a very vocal anti-hunting phase and then became vegetarian for a couple years when I was in middle school. In hindsight my heart and ethics were in the right place, but if I'd more educated I would have railed against CAFOs and commercial fishing practices.
The anti-hunting beliefs I held when I was younger was the direct result of one particular incident involving poachers on our land. I was with my grandmother, driving back to her house which is set far back from the road. A doe was dragging herself across the field because her back end was paralyzed. She was in agony. The two hunters were standing next to the tailgate of their pickup truck drinking coffee and chatting nonchalantly. I couldn't have been more then ten years old. I was out of the car, yelling at them (I have no recollection of what I said) before my grandmother could lock the door. I mean, they were clearly assholes, were trespassing, and had guns. I did return to the car at my grandmother's frantic request... as we drove away I heard a gunshot and hoped they finally put that poor doe out of her horrific suffering.
I would like to be clear that I don't approve of hunting for mere sport or a trophy to hang over the mantelpiece. And that solitary incident left me with an extremely negative opinion of hunters in general (no one in my family was more than a casual, sometimes weekend hunter).
One of the many benefits of starting an upland bird hunting dog rescue is that while I've met some of the most heartless and inhumane people imaginable I have also had the incredible pleasure of meeting so many hunters who have such overwhelming compassion and respect for their dogs, the environment, conservation, and the game they pursue.
As someone who has a lifelong love of food and deeply held ethics about where my food comes from, hunting seems like an inevitable marriage between my philosophy and inherent pragmatism.
While I cannot give certain dear friends of mine enough credit that is their due for continually inspiring me (and sometimes picking on me), there is one book in particular that I have read and reread which sparked my gradually increasing leaning toward learning to hunt and source my own food. How far do you have to lean before you tip over? Hmm.
The book I am alluding to is "Girl Hunter" by chef Georgia Pellegrini. I only read a chapter at a time (and this is my second read-through), to let the humour, wisdom, and determined spirit of adventure steep into my mind. Not to mention the recipes, which are worth buying the book for on their own merit.
I could not recommend this book more highly to anyone who hunts, is considering hunting, loves food, loves cooking, cares about eating locally, or who doesn't hold a good opinion of hunting at all. There is something to entertain and educate everyone. Plus it's available in multiple formats! Hardcover, paperback, audio book, Kindle edition, etc.
Anyway. Back to the subject of eating animals which is what I meant to talk about in the first place. As a very Buddhist leaning Agnostic, I do overall believe in not harming other living beings or contributing to their suffering.
I especially do not eat factory farmed animals who have endured lives of great suffering (regardless of what the FDA or USDA finds acceptable), which means you won't catch me buying meat, poultry, eggs, or dairy from my local supermarket. I am not against the consumption of meat as food but I am completely against playing a part in a practice that I find inhumane to the point of barbarism. By giving those companies my money I would not only be condoning their practices, but playing a vital role in ensuring these unethical practices continue.
I cannot count the number of people I've spoken to about food and their diets only to be told, "well if I knew where it came from, I couldn't eat it." That should tell you something right there.
Which brings me to a rather contentious point. A friend of mine who is a Buddhist sometimes eats meat. While he is respectful of the animal that gave it's life, which is in a likelihood feedlot beef, he was completely appalled and absolutely livid that I am considering learning to hunt.
Deliberately killing another living creature does incur bad karma. Killing is bad; we all basically know that right? But how does eating the meat of an animal that spent most it's life in unsanitary, cramped, and inhumane conditions bestow less negative karma simply because you didn't personally commit the act of slaughter? Is there a karmic loophole I am not aware of? Someone else gets the full burden of bad karma from taking an animal's life and you get to enjoy cheeseburger while enjoying a lesser karmic weight? I find this completely unethical and dishonest to the point of hypocrisy. You're actively participating in perpetuating the suffering of living creatures. How does this have less karmic impact? I don't believe it does. It has more because you've made the deliberate decision to participate in the continuation of a cycle of cruelty.
Moving onto the topic of hunting, how does eating conventionally grown meat or poultry incur less karmic debt or guilt than killing a wild animal quickly and humanely, respecting the animal that gave it's life, the life that you took, and then feeding your family and friends? At least you own that karma instead of hiding behind plastic packaged hunks of skinned, de-boned barely recognizable flesh.
Is it because the former removes you from the nitty gritty far enough that you can stomach the food products you consume? Food that would probably turn you into a vegan if slaughter houses had glass walls?
I'm not going to lie; wild animals don't live in an idyllic paradise any more than the milk you drink or butter you eat comes from cows that graze in the technicolor pastures next to Old McDonald's freshly painted red barn. The difference is that wild animals have the chance to participate in nature and are a part of the natural world; domestic animals raised in factory like farms called CAFOs (Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations) have zero chance of living anything resembling a normal, natural or humane life. They are little more than commodities processed through streamlined, industrial systems.
If you're okay voting for those practices with your hard earned money that choice is yours to make. We all have that choice. I choose not to.
Returning to hunting, I grew up in Michigan where hunting has always had a sense of normalcy to me even though I went through a very vocal anti-hunting phase and then became vegetarian for a couple years when I was in middle school. In hindsight my heart and ethics were in the right place, but if I'd more educated I would have railed against CAFOs and commercial fishing practices.
The anti-hunting beliefs I held when I was younger was the direct result of one particular incident involving poachers on our land. I was with my grandmother, driving back to her house which is set far back from the road. A doe was dragging herself across the field because her back end was paralyzed. She was in agony. The two hunters were standing next to the tailgate of their pickup truck drinking coffee and chatting nonchalantly. I couldn't have been more then ten years old. I was out of the car, yelling at them (I have no recollection of what I said) before my grandmother could lock the door. I mean, they were clearly assholes, were trespassing, and had guns. I did return to the car at my grandmother's frantic request... as we drove away I heard a gunshot and hoped they finally put that poor doe out of her horrific suffering.
I would like to be clear that I don't approve of hunting for mere sport or a trophy to hang over the mantelpiece. And that solitary incident left me with an extremely negative opinion of hunters in general (no one in my family was more than a casual, sometimes weekend hunter).
One of the many benefits of starting an upland bird hunting dog rescue is that while I've met some of the most heartless and inhumane people imaginable I have also had the incredible pleasure of meeting so many hunters who have such overwhelming compassion and respect for their dogs, the environment, conservation, and the game they pursue.As someone who has a lifelong love of food and deeply held ethics about where my food comes from, hunting seems like an inevitable marriage between my philosophy and inherent pragmatism.
While I cannot give certain dear friends of mine enough credit that is their due for continually inspiring me (and sometimes picking on me), there is one book in particular that I have read and reread which sparked my gradually increasing leaning toward learning to hunt and source my own food. How far do you have to lean before you tip over? Hmm.
The book I am alluding to is "Girl Hunter" by chef Georgia Pellegrini. I only read a chapter at a time (and this is my second read-through), to let the humour, wisdom, and determined spirit of adventure steep into my mind. Not to mention the recipes, which are worth buying the book for on their own merit.
I could not recommend this book more highly to anyone who hunts, is considering hunting, loves food, loves cooking, cares about eating locally, or who doesn't hold a good opinion of hunting at all. There is something to entertain and educate everyone. Plus it's available in multiple formats! Hardcover, paperback, audio book, Kindle edition, etc.
For more cooking, hunting, gathering, and old timey skills check out Georgia's blog. You can also find the link to her blog on the right sidebar under ~ Food Blogs ~.
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