Eat: Becoming compassionate by the bite
MANILA, Philippines - Good morning, baby.” My groggy eyes slowly opened to see a middleaged Indian man carrying a tray of hot masala chai, waking me up in his personal sing-song Indian accent.
“Time to wake up, baby.”
Rubbing my eyes, I moaned a response.
“Tea, baby? Very hot. You take,” he coaxed in his broken English.
Every morning, Rakesh would wake me in this same way. He was my host-dad as I spent the three weeks in India to volunteer teaching English at a slum school. And every morning, I and the other volunteers would eat delicious meals of ciapatti bread and potatoes. Another volunteer, Justin was a vegetarian so our host family cooked all of us vegetarian meals. Who could complain? Authentic Indian food cooked by an Indian family is like going to paradise each time you take a bite.
That was the first time I tried a vegetarian diet and I found myself not missing meat. When Justin left, as volunteers continually come and go, Rakesh cooked us a special meal with chicken. Chicken is my favorite meat but even tasting this feast seemed anti-climatic. I didn’t miss it and I didn’t have to. I yearned for more vegetables. Peas. Cauliflower. Carrots. All made in a wonderful concoction of spices and curries. I yearned for coconuts and mangoes and local fruits and masala tea. I didn’t yearn for meat.
“Are you vegetarian because of your religion?” I asked Justin one day. He was a practicing Buddhist, with the diligence to meditate every morning.
“No, it’s mostly out of compassion,” he said, after a thoughtful pause.
I smiled. Nodded. Almost smirked. Compassion and Buddhism go hand in hand. There’s nothing the Dalai Lama stands for that doesn’t also involve compassion. Was this some sort of cheesy, canned, Buddhist joke?
Two months later, I found myself entering a Chinese Buddhist monastery retreat in Bacolod, Philippines. After declaring “I’m not Buddhist enough” I wanted a respite from my wandering mind. Anxieties about my uncertain future and wondering when love would happen and I knew I needed to find my center and balance my life again. Balance me.
“We are like family,” the old master said. “You’re welcome. Ask question. Do not fear.”
I had just arrived at the monastery and was greeted with a warm bowl of soup and equally warm smiles. Biting into a bright baby carrot, I nodded back and felt my tongue burning hot and the sensation spreading down my throat. The baby carrot turned out to be a red pepper! First lesson: mindfulness.
We were taught how to eat. There’s a whole art to it in Chinese Buddhist tradition. Back straight. Hands cupped to a “C” to hold the rice bowl “like the open mouth of a dragon.” Chopsticks delicately picked up in complete silence. No speaking. No food going to waste. Not even one grain of rice left on the plate. This was the start of eating meditation. Each bite with intention, mindfulness, and thoughtful consideration of the causes and conditions — the server to serve the food, the kitchen staff to cook the food, the vehicles to transport the food, the farmers to grow the food — that got our vegetarian meals to our plates.
When you eat in silence and complete concentration, something changes. The food becomes medicine. Nourishment. Nutrition. For the first time in my life, I understood the meaning of prayer and “giving thanks.” My skeptic shell of Atheism, already growing softer before the retreat, had completely disappeared. But something else changed, too. I couldn’t look at meat the same way. My taste for vegetables grew stronger since having left India. The “causes and conditions” of packaged meat — the excess consumption-driven meat factories polluting our environment, and the careless mistreatment of the food chain — became more apparent as I learned about thoughtful eating, slowly chewing each bite with intention. Meat wasn’t just meat any longer and I couldn’t ignore the process.
I finally understood how vegetarianism is a choice of compassion, and not of religion. Vegetarianism meets you when you’re ready to go to that level, just as religion meets you at the level you’re comfortable with.
In four months, I changed. I became more compassionate by the bite. I became vegetarian.
