Some of you will no doubt applaud my efforts to educate young people on the true environmental cost of the overconsumption of meat and dairy foods. I share your conviction that it is the rampant overuse of animal foods that is most at fault for everything from rainforest destruction and animal abuse to heart disease and cancer. But forcing it down the throats of trusting youth is not the way to bring about change. If it were, I would’ve had ten new vegans after my tour. Instead, I suspect I had ten terrified kids who left more confused than ever about what to eat. Or worse, my insistence on presenting frightening, albeit factual, information may have soured them forever on "health food" and sent them running to the nearest Burger King. I really thought my days of food proselytizing were over. Twenty years ago, as a new convert to plant-based foods, it was natural that I would prey upon my friends and family, secretly substituting tofu for ground beef in their stroganoff, refusing my mother’s pot roast, and lecturing anyone who would listen on the evils of meat-eating. I was young, excited about what I was learning, and full of the novice’s enthusiasm for new beliefs. But I had yet to learn two important lessons: that beliefs divide, and that most people learn best by example. It was a lesson I have had to relearn time and again. When I had my first child, the issue of what to feed her was one of the fiercest of my marriage. How much sugar? Ice cream or tofutti? Meat or no meat? The battle raged on for two years, until finally I realized the truth of what my husband had insisted all the time: our arguing at the table was far worse for our beloved than any food we could feed her. One could conclude from this story that I caved in and compromised my values, and in a sense I did. But a more accurate account is that I relinquished the notion of being right for the certain outcome of a happier home. I’d like to say that all our food skirmishes are over, but it wouldn’t be true. But while at times I force my children to sit through mini-lectures on the true price of our food choices, I also allow them to choose some meals themselves, including the rich desserts I sometimes eat, too. Now, at almost ten, our firstborn loves brown rice pilau and tofu tacos, and has developed her own trick for eating kale (mix it in your mouth with lots of water when chewing). She eats corn dogs, too, and I look the other way. You see, I’ve given her all that I can without pushing her too far, and I must now trust that when she’s older, she’ll make good food choices on her own. In the meantime, we pause before each meal to acknowledge the animals and people who’ve made our meal possible, and try to minimize our participation in their lot by most often eating grains and beans as our primary protein source. Her father has come around, too, and it wasn’t because of my constant criticism. It was because I finally gave up trying to tell him what to eat. Well, mostly. Have you ever been challenged on a behavior that you secretly suspected might not be the highest way? I have. And as long as others criticized me for it, the tighter I held my ground. It was only when someone had the compassion to really accept me and my behavior — no questions asked, no comments made — that I was finally able to admit that it was hurting me. As long as I was being pushed, I wouldn’t move off my position. I needed room to come to a realization of the implications of my actions in my own time, and perhaps more importantly, in an environment where no one would say "I told you so." Food is so relentlessly a part of our lives, so ever-present, that we are often not aware of how deeply held our beliefs about it are. More than sustenance, it has associations with nurturing, comfort, pain relief, and much more. To demand change at any cost will always backfire on us, making us, not the supposed offender, seem silly. Did Jesus point a finger at the tax collector? No, he broke bread with him. Did he pooh-pooh the revelers at the wedding feast? No, he shared and even increased their wine stores. If you feel strongly about your food convictions and simply cannot bear to see another person make mistakes, then I urge you to eat alone. Nothing stops a pleasant dinner conversation like making the person you’re with feel guilty about their food choices. I know. I’ve been on both sides of that table. But if you are attentive to your own process, and forgiving of your own missteps, then I invite you to sit at table with someone you love, and never mention the steak/eggs/chicken or whatever it is that’s gracing his or her plate. Concentrate instead on what unites you — the need for understanding, the desire for companionship, the joy of friendship — and let that be your shared lesson. In fact, until you are able to look in love at all beings, then your own work is not finished. And any time we experience unrest, apprehension, or fear, we are relying too much on ourselves and not enough on the abundant, generous spirit of God. Think you’re in control? Think again! Letting go of how other people are supposed to live doesn’t change them; it changes you. And that’s real freedom. Sure, some people need a push, and won’t change unless forced to. I’m not talking about them. I would hate to try to judge when and how someone is supposed to change, anyway. I don’t have that kind of omniscience. In fact, I have a hard enough time making sure my own behavior is clean. And that’s my real job. Not to change you, but to look deeply into my own heart and see what’s there. If it’s judgment, then I must again look to myself and see why I am feeling so diminished that I must seek fault in others. Food gives us just such an opportunity every single day. When you’re feeling good, it shows. You don’t have to do anything special to advertise it. And eating whole, natural foods is uplifting. Your arteries open up, your blood is cleaner, your brain works better, your bowels move when they’re supposed to. If someone asks you why you’re looking and feeling so good, you can be sure the universe is giving you permission to share the "good news." Then you have an audience that’s ready to hear what you have to say. And that’s the best publicity a natural diet can get. I’m a slow learner — always have been — and keep making the same mistakes day after day. I only hope that the teenagers on my tour will think kindly of me when they remember my classic agitprop of last week. That they can forgive the scare tactics I employed honestly, if misguidedly, to share with them what I’ve learned about nutrition and healing. And that in spite of me, they will sit down together — whether over fried chicken and milkshakes or tempeh cutlets and spirulina smoothies —and have a good laugh. That, more than anything, will stir a healing in their souls. Let us all eat in peace, together. Lori Lively is Education and Special Events Director at Marlene’s Market and Deli stores in Federal Way and Tacoma. She is available for speaking engagements and publications at <mojolively1@home.com> or (253) 564-1668. |
Last week a group of high school students came through the natural foods store where I work for an hour-long tour. My colleague and I split up the group and, while she headed to the aromatherapy section, I led my kids over to the produce department. There, instead of celebrating the goodness of the earth and all her gifts to us, I subjected them to a lengthy discourse on the evils of pesticides and non-sustainable farming methods. From there I went to the meat and dairy section, where of course I took it upon myself to reveal to them the horrors of commercialized animal food production. I should’ve taken my cue from the confused looks on their faces, but it wasn’t until much later that I realized I had committed the gravest of all errors when sharing information: I’d had an agenda.