Buddhism and Veganism Page 12

  The sixth Chan patriarch Hui Neng pointed out in The Sixth Patriarch’s Dharma Jewel Platform Sutra that “Being separate from external marks is ‘Chan.’ Not being confused inwardly is ‘concentration.’” To enter the state of meditation, one should stay away from greed and hatred which come from eating meat. Therefore, food is seen by monks and nuns as a medicine to cure the disease of hunger and to maintain the body itself.

  In daily life, food ranks first amongst the causes of human greed. In Chinese monasteries, having meals is also a kind of practice that is called the Five Contemplations among which the third contemplation is to safeguard the mind against all error, and to not give rise to hatred or greed. Monks and nuns don’t attach themselves to delicious food. Instead, they consider the process of how hard it was for the people who worked to produce all the food, no matter whether the food is simple or complex. In addition, they are not picky over the quality of the food. This is because not being greedy and not eating too much are of great benefit to our physical health and daily practice. Eating too much can give rise to a great many afflictions, such as doing harm to physical health and affecting practice.

  Chinese Chan Buddhism believes that practice is inseparable from living and that every little thing in our life can be a form of practice, such as cooking, eating, and doing the dishes. If the cook prepares meals without kindness and compassion, the food will be bland and the people who eat it will certainly notice. In Buddhist monasteries, the monk who is in charge of cooking meals is called Dian Zuo. From ancient times down to the present day when a Dian Zuo is elected, only someone who is outstanding can obtain the position. This is because there is an old saying in Chinese Buddhism: “the monastery kitchen is the ‘birth place’ of Great Masters.” This emphasizes the idea that practice and living, i.e. cooking, are inseparable.

  The historical development of Chinese culinary culture has been influenced by Chinese Buddhist vegetarianism. During the Southern Song Dynasty (960-1271), vegetarian restaurants already existed in Bian Liang, the capital city of the Southern Dynasty, and the development of vegetarian style dishes continued apace during the Yuan Dynasty (1271-1368), Ming Dynasty (1368-1644) and Qing Dynasty (1644-1911).

  There was an imperial kitchen in the royal palace during the Qing Dynasty. The people there created more than 200 vegetarian dishes during this period, and the cooking level reached such a high level that vegetarian dishes became a well-known kind of cuisine. Furthermore, there are many diverse vegetarian style dishes in Chinese Buddhist monasteries, like Lingyin Temple in Hangzhou, Shaolin Monastery in Henan, Jade Buddha Temple in Shanghai, Daming Temple in Yangzhou and many other monasteries. Master Hsuan Hua, who came to America propagating Buddhism in the 1960s said that: “Chinese vegetarian food and architecture would go first in the whole process of Buddhism propagation internationally.” Thus, many people would become vegetarian and go on to live a life of abstaining from killing on account of the great taste and diverse adequate nutrition in vegetarian food, and also begin to explore Buddhist practice.

  For more than two thousand years of Chinese history, Buddhism has been in harmony with vegetarian cuisine. The two have strengthened and complemented each other, promoting each other’s mutual development. Vegetarian traditions and culture have become a guarantee of Buddhist practice, which enables the Buddha’s wisdom and insight to be implemented in practice in ordinary life, helping people to achieve health both physically and mentally, and thus moving toward the liberation of wisdom.

  May All Beings Be Happy

  VICKI SEGLIN

  My mantra is all beings. These two words appear throughout the Buddhist teachings: “May all beings be happy.” “All beings tremble before violence. All fear death; all love life.”“…Cultivate a boundless love for all beings.” “So may I become sustenance in every way for sentient beings to the limits of space, until all have attained nirvana.”“…to nourish our ideal of serving all living beings.”

  It’s that all that grabs me and speaks to my heart. I have never heard or read a traditional Buddhist teaching that referred to only some beings, or only to human beings. Repeatedly, and pointedly, we are asked to consider all beings as our brothers and sisters, and protect them as we would protect our child. Yet, this basic and clear teaching is often ignored, and the word “human” seems to be silently added, so we can continue to ignore the suffering, at human hands, of our companions on this Earth.

  I understand that the path to a vegan lifestyle can be a difficult transformation; my journey has certainly been a winding road that was longer than expected. It has been a gradual and convoluted voyage, and yet now it feels comfortable, makes sense to me, and evokes joy. I slid into Buddhism with an ease I never would have predicted. However, slowly, and with more difficulty, the strong yearning to lead a vegan lifestyle asserted itself and changed my life.

  Raised by an Irish/English Catholic mother and a Latvian/Czech Jewish father, it seemed inevitable that neither religion would truly take root. The requirement of the Church, in order for my parents to be married by a priest as my mother desired, was that their children would be raised as Catholics. While I maintain elements of both Judaism and Catholicism in my life, the remnants have been more cultural than spiritual. When I went to college, I quickly left my Catholic mass, communion, and confession behind. Though I would describe myself in those days as kind, and capable of awe and wonder, these were not embedded in any specific spiritual path. I recognized that I was lacking a spiritual community and tradition to help guide and sustain me.

  Soon after college, in the mid to late 1970’s, my best friend, an animal lover and advocate as I believed myself to be, announced that she and her husband were now vegetarians. This was new and exotic, and I joined them in the adventure. There was little in the culture at the time to support this, so although it made sense to me, and I recognized viscerally that eating animals was the opposite of loving them, my friends and I had entered relatively uncharted territory, figuring out what we could eat. We knew nothing, but we forged ahead, making up recipes, buying the few available alternatives such as vegetarian (not vegan!) sausages, and wondering about tofu, and what to do with this mysterious white blob.

  Around 1990, a friend of mine told me she was attending a sangha (spiritual community) in the tradition of the Vietnamese Buddhist Zen Master and peace activist, Thich Nhat Hanh, also affectionately referred to as Thay, the Vietnamese word for teacher. This meant nothing to me. I mentally filed away the information, but with little interest. And then one day, in the midst of wondering which spiritual path might speak to me, I was in a small feminist bookstore, and Thay’s book, The Miracle of Mindfulness, caught my eye. Reading it was revelatory and I realized that I could “do” this mindfulness, this practice of meditation and path of compassion. I already “believed” in these without having named them. I felt drawn to this path without having to convince myself or deny parts of myself. I felt happy simply reading his teachings.

  Synchronistically, Thay was coming to Chicago shortly after I discovered his book, and I was able to be at an early retreat, with a small group of other practitioners and curious newcomers, to begin my journey. During the retreat, I experienced the joyful and wise qualities of Thay and his monks and nuns, the strength of their practice of mindfulness, and their capacity to look deeply into what we experience, practicing compassion as a way to a happier life and a more just society. Immediately afterward, I joined a local sangha and became dedicated to Thay as a teacher on the path of compassion as explained by the Buddha. Thay had been clear that we must, in addition to personal practice and study, get off our cushions, engage in the world as people dedicated to kindness and justice, and participate in a community of like-minded people to support this deceptively “simple” practice.

  While still a student of Buddhism, I found the path of veganism to be more complex and challenging. At some point, I recognized that in addition to not eating animals, I was called to stop wearing them in the form of le
ather shoes, wool jackets, and silk blouses. I allowed what I already owned to wear out naturally and sought out alternatives, which didn’t exist in abundance as they do now. We might think this would be obvious: that wearing animals is also abusive to them, but this is how our brains work. As a psychologist, I am aware that we can easily carry opposing views and refuse to acknowledge obvious discrepancies, and be unable to see things if it feels too challenging. Positive transformation is often resisted! Mindfulness practice helped me sit with the conflicting and sometimes painful feelings that arose as I made the necessary changes, and also helped me be patient with those who were hostile to my becoming a vegan, and to be patient with myself when I judged that I was changing too slowly.

  I continued attending sangha meetings, going to retreats, studying, and reading and listening to Dharma talks. I became more of an animal rights activist, working with local groups on various issues, such as ending vivisection experiments at a local university, as well as supporting campaigns like Fur Free Friday demonstrations and pigeon shoot protests. Yet, I continued to eat eggs, drink milk, and order Chicago deep-dish pizzas.

  Gradually, through reading, viewing videos, and through meditating on the reality of the animals’ lives, my understanding deepened, as did my wish to protect all beings. I gradually freed myself from the fantasy, fed by advertising and cultural propaganda, that dairy, eggs, and cheese don’t require killing and mistreating animals.

  My mother had been born and raised in a rural town in northwest Iowa, and when we would visit every summer, I could see the cows and the pigs freely roaming in the fields and assumed they must be having a fine life, enjoying the sunshine and living a natural lifespan. Relatives in New Hampshire owned a dairy farm and every cow had a name, so how could they do anything cruel to them? But in educating myself about the actual state of affairs in animal agriculture, for example, the forced impregnations of dairy cows, the killing of the baby calves, the hyper-confinement of hens and other animals, and the many even more abusive standard practices, I realized I could no longer support this violence, nor close my eyes concerning what I was eating.

  However, becoming a vegan turned out to be unexpectedly difficult. I struggled with it, decreasing the amount of dairy and eggs I ate, but having trouble eliminating them completely from my diet. I wanted to, desperately, but in those days, veganism was not as recognized in the mainstream culture as it is now; there was little social support and fewer options. I also resisted the changes this would create in my life and in my relationships. Nevertheless, I persisted.

  There were two definitive events that helped me finally make the transition. One was finding out that some digestive issues I was having were due to my being allergic to dairy products and eggs. If I believe in a benevolent energy in the universe, it was helping me with this transition to veganism. Milk, eggs, ice cream…gone. The second event involved cheese. For several years, I had occasional Dairy Days, not very often, and usually connected to a birthday party, for example, when I craved a piece of cake. But the real problem was cheese. Every few months, I would “have to have” a Chicago pizza. These days, anyone can get vegan Chicago pizzas, but nothing like this existed until fairly recently. The real attraction was the cheese. Why was it so hard to let go of this? I understood that I didn’t have to be perfect; that would be impossible. I also knew that this vegan choice I was making was not about me; it was about the animals and their suffering. My decisions make a difference in the world. So I continued to try.

  Fortunately, my friend and colleague, John Bussineau, wrote his first book, The Buddha, The Vegan and You. His book taught me a lot, even given my many years of educating myself on the issues. His section on “Analytical Antidote for Cheese,” detailing how to use a Tibetan form of analytical meditation to help us resist the “pull” of cheese, along with one of the most effective and graphic descriptions of how buying and eating cheese harms other living beings, combined with the knowledge that cheese was physiologically addictive, was enough to stop the madness. Dairy Days became a relic of the past, and I am grateful for that. Compassion is lighter to carry than cruelty.

  Throughout this journey to veganism, I was also learning more about integrating the Buddha’s teachings into my daily life. I continued to participate in the local sangha, eventually becoming ordained as a lay member of Thay’s Order of Interbeing. For me, this was a statement that I was publicly committing to living according to the Bodhisattva Vows and the Fourteen Mindfulness Trainings. The Bodhisattva Vows are inextricably linked to my vegan vows. How can I not take the “all beings” phrase seriously as an integral part of my Buddhist practice?

  There have been challenges on this path, such as learning to handle strong emotions with equanimity, and judgments that arise without warning, as well as struggling to respond compassionately to certain people. However, being vegan is no longer a struggle or a challenge. Some have suggested I might have been a cow in a previous life; I will not rule this out!

  I feel fortunate that my teacher, Thay, is forthright about the importance of compassion for animals, unlike numerous Buddhist and spiritual teachers. In public talks, he has discussed the suffering of animals, and the ways in which our knowledge of this can help us stop buying and eating their flesh, their children, and their “products.” He says, “To be vegan is not perfect, but it helps to reduce the suffering of animals.”

  I am grateful for the existence of Dharma Voices for Animals, an international group dedicated to educating people, particularly those in the Buddhist community, about animal abuse and the vegan lifestyle. This coming together of the Buddhist and vegan paths is both essential and inevitable, and can help sustain those of us who may feel isolated as vegans and animal advocates, even within our Buddhist communities.

  When someone challenges me or implies that I am being extreme for refraining from killing animals, I find it helpful to remember the Mindfulness Trainings, including:

  We are committed not to kill and not to let others kill. We will not support any act of killing in the world, in our thinking, or in our way of life.

  We will practice loving kindness by working for the happiness of people, animals, plants, and minerals.

  Increasingly, the Buddhist and the vegan paths feel like two aspects of one interconnected path, each leading back to the other, and providing guidance and encouragement for each other. They are both sources of joy, creative challenge, and harmony. May all beings be joyful and live in comfort and ease, free from fear. This is within reach, if we allow our habit energies to be transformed, include our non-human brothers and sisters into our circle of compassion, and continue to challenge ourselves to live in ways that decrease suffering for all beings.

  Birthday Crashing and Spiritual Awakening

  PAUL TARCHICHI (BROTHER PROMISE)

  Franck’s birthday

  “Franck’s inviting us to his birthday!” my sister said. “Would you like to go?”

  I am a vegan monk and my friend Franck is a butcher.

  “Sure,” I said.

  Franck must have heard I was in Paris for a few days, visiting my family before flying to a monastery in New York. My sister and I knocked on his door and he greeted us with a smile. I was happy to see him again— it had been many years. Franck is a nice guy, with a quick wit and a great sense of humor. The atmosphere was peaceful and we mingled easily with the other guests.

  “Dinner is ready!” His wife announced. We all sat down at the table, watching her lovingly place fragrant, carefully prepared dishes on the table: basmati rice, ratatouille, and . . . chicken! As fate would have it, the chicken dish was placed right in front of me.

  “Chicken, anyone?” I asked.

  Many passed their plates and I happily served them.

  As for me, I chose the rice and vegetables.

  “You’re not having chicken?” one guest asked.

  “No, thank you...but it looks delicious!” I politely answered.

  “Are you vegan?” another inq
uired.

  “Yes,” I nodded.

  I am a happy vegan. As far as I know, going vegan is the number one thing we can do for our health, for the animals, and for the planet. I sometimes share with others about the benefits of veganism, when the moment is right. That particular afternoon, however, I just wanted to connect with everyone. I wanted to feel comfortable with them, just as they were. I also wanted to create conditions for them to feel safe and comfortable with me. I was not particularly keen on getting offended, or seeing others getting offended by me being offended at them “not seeing how offensive the whole thing was” (if that makes sense).

  I sincerely did not wish to see Franck’s birthday dinner crashed by a self-invited vegan campaign. Nevertheless, it still happened.

  A few seats away from me, two guests set out to speak animatedly about the animals’ suffering, and about how wrong it was to consume meat. The atmosphere quickly became tense, and several guests were showing signs of discomfort. It seemed we were all worried about how Franck would react.

  “I know . . .” he said.

  The room silenced and everyone was all ears. Franck then proceeded to talk in even more depth about the suffering of the animals, and the cruelty of an industry he knew all too well. He said he had inherited the profession from his father. He said the industry wasn’t what it used to be. He said he had been looking for ways to change career for years, because he didn’t believe it would ever be possible for him to practice his job with a clear conscience.

  Listening deeply

  In Buddhism, we learn about the practice of deep listening. To listen deeply to someone, with a calm and open mind, without judging or reacting, can be very healing, not only for the one who speaks, but also for the listener. Deep listening allows us to open our hearts to others’ realities, and to understand them better.