Sometimes the rational thing to do can be a distasteful thing to do. A couple examples come to mind:
> Encouraging a protesting child to leave a security blanket behind.
> Euthanizing an ailing, elderly pet.
If we always ‘followed our heart’ and ignored what sober reasoning informs us is the right thing to do . . . our life might be easier, emotionally, in the short term. But in the long? And what about the lives of others? Don’t we sometimes need to shoulder a distasteful load to make the lives of others better?
I got to thinking about his subject over the weekend, when taking a sharp knife to a fish just pulled from the water. The fish certainly didn’t like that jolt of pain (judging by it’s brief struggle). But then it was dead and went into the ice-filled cooler. Sure, I could have circumvented the blood and personal experience of killing another creature by just letting it die on its own time, so to speak. But that, I imagine, is less compassionate than what I’ve taken to doing with the fish I catch and plan on eating.
Yes, I am a carnivore. But I believe I am at least somewhat ethical in my flesh-eating. For one, I will and do honestly confront the pain and blood that is a consequence of how I feed myself and my family. For another — at least when it comes to fishing — I fish waters that have minimal “fishing pressure.” Meaning I go where the fish populations are healthy. And I take only enough for a good meal or two.
This weekend my fishing partner and I brought home 4 fish. We had caught more fish, but didn’t keep them. Not the right size and/or species.
Slow-baked over turnip greens and yellow squash, and served with lemon-pepper butter — my, they were good. Actually, my 3-person household only finished two. No need to be gluttonous. The other two fish we’ll enjoy later this week. As part of a balanced diet.
Of course I realize that returning the the vegetarian diet I once adhered to (in my early 20s, when else?) would eliminate some death and suffering that comes because of my dietary choices, directly or indirectly. But would that impetus come from my heart or my head? I wonder.
In the meantime, I’ll enjoy what I consider to be a philosophically tenable and personally fulfilling diet.
I like to visit “holy places.” They can be quite stunning, visually. And sometimes I acquire insights there–no, not about supposed supernatural phenomena, but about sub-conscious ones: those instincts and drives and feelings that motivate people to build and decorate their sacred places.
Hispanic shrine, Albuquerque, NM.
Catholic church, Cefalu, Sicily.
Basement room in an ancient cathedral in Tusa, Sicily. To enter you must descend a staircase down a opening in the floor of the church. My guess is that they kept the bones of deceased church members in pottery jars that went in the partitions to the right. The benches were for praying while visiting the remains.
Do hornets have free will? Do I?
It’s a serious philosophical issue. I guess. I’m not fond of it — the issue, hornets can be another matter. Until free and will are clearly defined, I just as soon enter into a discussion about it as I would stir up a hornets’ nest.
We have purple beautyberry growing in our yard. Birds love it. And I am glad. For I enjoy the company of birds. And while I enjoy watching birds eat the natural fruit, I’m not really fond of where the end-product of their loving ends up. High branches arch over our driveway.
In other words, I’ve got to wash the car. Oh well.
Beauty in, ugly out. Unless, of course, you are a dung beetle or another consumer of another species’ waste.
One of these things is not like the others (yes, I am a child of the Sesame Street Era) . . . and I don’t think you need education to tell which one.
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