Venerated Citizen                                                                                              
A Diary of My Double Standards                                                                                       

by Sophia Barkat

Because I like to find fault in other people, I thought it would be fair to show my own double-standards and in thus doing make a connection with the Venerated Citizen.

Each week, I'll try to find as many faults as possible. Feel free to point them out to me at quietpoly@yahoo.com.

Eating Meat



Have you ever watched an innocent animal being slaughtered? Not your dog or your cat but the cow whose meat you will be making a steak with.

The look in the eyes as she sees the knife for the first time? Its realization and fear?

Even cows are afraid of sharp things.

We humans are animals. Not only do we kill animals but we will kill anyone anywhere anytime. We are not civilized. We salivate at the thought of shish-kababs and pot-roast without wanting to know where the meat came from.

We are in denial, too, our Art and Culture created so that we may think ourselves more than we are -- civilized.

Cruel. We are cruel like Hitler. I am cruel  -- no vegetarian, but a cow-slaughtering omnivore.

And yet, we irk at the thought of being that medium-rare steak when some even greater animal or cannibal devours us or drops bombs on our houses. Why is killing humans bad? Don't we deserve it?

Are we afraid to admit that our greed has resulted in unfettered anarchy all over the world?

Greed. Let's go to war to fill our pockets. Let's kill people and report them as numbers while we deify our slain soldiers. Greed and stupidity will destroy us.

Where does this blood lust come from? Are we really that ugly inside? And where does it end? Does it end in the explosion of nuclear bombs because someone is convinced that the world is a disgusting place and decides your child or mine is not worth living?

Perhaps human "civilization" is a ticking bomb.

I have cooked a huge pot of minced beef with squash. There's just enough garlic and basil to rid the smell of beef, and as if beef by itself were tasteless, there's salt and pepper.

Unbelievable! I've managed to create food out of someone else's child.  Human or non-human, child is child.

The taste of meat is so good it makes me feel like a great chef. I have invited myself to a wonderful dinner. My friends are coming too.

At dinner, a Hindu friend laughed when I mention Buddhism. "Sophia. Are you sure you want to be Buddhist? You cannot give up eating meat?"

I said, "I like meat. If I give it up it will change me. Am I prepared? I don't know."

My friend laughed.

Perhaps, I know that I cannot give up meat, the taste so fresh in my mouth.  I'm ashamed to admit it to my friend, and even more to myself.  I'm a glut.

I look down at my plate full of meat and not a bit of guilt runs through my mind. I consider not eating it but I don't like to waste eating "someone else's kid" because the poor thing did die for me and no one gave it Jesus-status either.

"Perhaps I can only give up something I am willing to give up and that I have found some comfort in the simple pleasures of life and do not wish to give up what few I want?"

My Hindu friend smiled. "You can study the Veda by yourself. You can eat your meat. You can feel enormous guilt and alternate pleasure in being human. You can flog yourself or flog your enemy. What is it you really want?"

"I want freedom from my material self. Freedom from want. All want is suffering," I blurted out.

"But why? Are you not already free of these things?"

"No. I am yet to overcome my own demons. My own double standards."

My Hindu friend smiled. "You cannot overcome your double standards -- especially that which you have justified as simple pleasures of life. Those are most sacred to a person," he smiled. "Perhaps what you need are few things. But perhaps one of those things will make you wonder if you are an animal."

"So, I should not become a Buddhist?" I ask.

"You have answered that question in your question."

I felt my heart sink. "But, I do not want to be part of the materialist world. Here, in Buddhism, is my only sanctuary."

He laughed. "You are your only sanctuary. And your battle is with yourself. Not the outside world. Right?"

"Yes."

"Then go ahead and live the way you are. Why do you need a religion?"

"I don't," I respond. "But I want to be part of something good and so far none of the religions interest me. The Judeo-Christian-Islamic stuff is all about God told you to do this! Sinner! Go to Hell!"

My friend laughed.

"Hinduism is interesting but the books -- Vedas -- are amazing. I read it and feel lucky. And it makes me feel smarter than those who were too ignorant to avoid it. And I feel like I'm better. So it does nothing to make me humble. And therefore, it fails to make me free of materialism which is all about this mad race to excel."

My friend looks at me seriously. "I've never thought of it that way. It always tends to calm me down, reading the Gita or Ramayana. It's beautiful. Lyrical. Of course I can see how the Vedas can make you feel tipsy with pleasure. It's got it's excitements."

"Right. And so I don't know if pursuing a religion for self-improvement is not itself an act of Darwinism. For survival and not for humility."

"Why do you need to feel humble?" he looked at me quizzically.

"Well. Let's see. I want to be free of things that define me so that I don't get upset when someone offends my nation or my language or my parents or even me. I want to be free of accomplishments but to work only because I enjoy it."

"And what if you find out Buddhism let's you down? Do you leave it?" he asked.

I frowned. "I hate to be pessimistic about what I believe in. But, you've got a point and I've thought about it. In fact, I read some things in Buddhism I didn't like.  Something about Buddha once reminding a person to show him respect, since he is a Boddhisatva  -- Enlightened One.  It disturbed me, because I do not associate Buddhism with honor or pride but with humility.  But then, I remembered that all text in Buddhism was written several hundred years after Buddha's time. That I should not judge Buddha by what has become of his ideas."

"Then you're not looking for Buddhism,"  he says.

"Probably not. But for an escape from the materialism of this world.  I haven't found it anywhere else."

"And you won't give up meat?" he laughs.

"I don't think I will. But maybe something will make me. People change."

"Can you live with it? Or rather do you feel any guilt?" he smirked.

"I don't think I feel guilty when I look at meat that is cooked.  But I feel bad when I realize where it comes from.  And then I just put it at the back of my mind and then I go on like a hyprocrit."

"You love meat..." he laughed, looking at all the entres I had prepared.

"Yes. Since we are on the topic of me being an animal, something very interesting happened to me the other day and I thought I should bring it up."

"Go on..." he said.

"Well, I was eating steak that I had made. Usually I make sure it's between medium-rare and well-done. You know?"

I haven't a clue.." he laughed.

"Well...I guess it wasn't even well-done. So, when I began to eat it, I could taste the warm flesh and the warm blood. I felt like a cannibal, though it did not taste bad. I felt guilty and I also realized what it meant to be an animal. It was a strange epiphany." I looked at him for a reaction. My Brahmin pal was not looking too well. 

"If you consider how many people eat rare steak", I went on, "One wonders if many of us are not enjoying the taste of blood? Like vampires."

My friend drank some water. "Sophia. I'm going to be sick," he made a face.

"But it's true..." I rolled my eyes. "You can understand what blood-lust must be for a vampire if you can eat warm half-cooked meat and enjoy it."

"Gross..." he shook his head.

"Okay, Mr. Vegetarian. It's gross but that's what we carnivores are. Gross and Grosser."

"Hmmm....sounds reasonable," he looked away from the chicken curry in front of me. "But you have no shame for eating the meat?" he asked again.

"Shame? Yes.  Any hopes of reform? Slim.."

"And you pick faults in people every day and wonder why they are greedy or love shopping?" he shook his head. "It's human nature and we love being what we are, right?"

I looked at the food on the table and at every enjoying themselves as they went on talking about their own lives, oblivious of our conversation.  "Yes," I replied, sadly.