Speaking Chinese

I still think of Pulp Fiction when I think of speaking Chinese in public

When I first came to America, my parents immediately enrolled me in an English language course. My mother read Grimm’s Fairy Tales to me every night and made me practice my English daily. Eventually, I lost any traces of the Chinese accent, and spoke English in the house. I realized with the first day of school that “I was destined to live in two worlds—the world my parents were brought up in and which they brought to the United States with them, and the rest of society, where I gained a sense of “Americanness.” (X849) When I went out with my parents, I was ashamed to speak Chinese with them, because I had heard so often how many people were annoyed with immigrants not speaking English. I strove to command the conversation so that my parents would be forced to speak English, and gave strangers apologetic looks whenever I was obligated to respond in Chinese.

This continued on for several years until one day, when my friends were over, my mom called me “Jenny” in front of them, thinking that I would be angry if she called me by my Chinese name. I was completely disconcerted and disturbed—the word sounded so crude and unfamiliar coming from her mouth. I had been so used to hearing the tender pronunciation of “Hongxing” that this “Jenny” sound emanating from her mouth made me cringe.

The Chinese symbol for “love”

Now, speaking Chinese with my parents reminds me of home. It gives me comfort. When I think of my parents, I consider them the last true connection to my identity as Chinese, and I no longer wish for them to speak English to me, because it sounds wrong and out of place. It still unnerves me when my parents accidentally call me “Jenny” instead of “Hongxing”. Hearing them call me by my Chinese name and all its loving variants just fits; everything feels right. I’ve found that the older I get, the more I love to speak Chinese with them. “It was as if his college experience allowed the cultural and ethnic traits that had been absent during his early life to be born.” (X845) I learned to appreciate and celebrate where I came from.

The Chinese symbol for “home”

My grandparents have hammered this notion into my head several times: “I know you have to learn how to speak English, but don’t forget your own language.” (X854) With each time that I speak to them on the phone, I can hear their disappointment at my inability to say some Chinese words. They are afraid that I will lose my heritage and become wholly American. It frustrates me that they think that I would want to shed something so dear to me. When I am walking to class and some Chinese students pass me, I catch wisps of their rapid Chinese, and there is a small part of me that smiles, because it almost feels like home.

Racism & Bluest Eye 2

Emigrants at Ellis Island had to deal with all kinds of racism

When I came to America from China, I was enrolled into the elementary school at Oxford, Mississippi. On my first day of class, I followed the other children out to recess and watched as they all gathered with their friends and ran off to play on the jungle gyms or swing sets. I, however, wandered alone, friendless, and full of melancholy and longing for my home country. Within a few minutes, a group of boys accosted me. They were older, in 2nd grade, and they formed a circle around me. I looked over to the teachers, but they were all engaged in conversation, too busy to notice the threat that I felt.

A playground much like the one I remember

The boys started taunting me, making fun of the way I looked. They laughed at my eyes and my foreign clothes. Then, the bravest of them stepped forward and shoved his fist into my stomach. I hunched instinctively, trying to protect myself, but the others took his example and started hitting and kicking me. Some grabbed sand from the ground and threw it into my face. As recess ended, I was left hunched over and sobbing, feeling shame. “Many emotions, including shame, are generated by this “Thing,” by comparing someone with an ideal, making them seem less than, inferior, a mistake.” (X334) I had tasted my first bitter drop racism.

Things like the ‘slanty eyes’ still infuriate me today

I thought that as I got older, there would be fewer occurrences of intolerant people judging me by my race. But even when I moved to Austin, I still felt the harsh stings of discrimination. When I was 15, I was walking my dog in our neighborhood when a car full of teenagers drove past. “Go back to where you came from!” they shouted, and their hyena laughter followed me all the way home. It hurt to know that there could be such hatred in the world, and their taunting made me ashamed. “Guilt can be purged: a person can correct, make up for a mistake. But shame is a more core emotion: if a person believes he or she is a mistake, they believe that they should not have been born, and there is nothing that can be done about it. This basic shame is clearly a key to racism and many other behaviors.” (X334)

There were many times when I did not even want to go out in public with my parents, because I was embarrassed by us. The fear I felt of society denying me,” Fear of being rejected because of our appearance, abandoned by the group, and left homeless…”(X335) consumed me, and made me wish that I was white, not Chinese, and that I could assimilate properly into America. When I stood amongst a group of girls at school, I was sure that they thought, “We were so beautiful when we stood astride her ugliness.” (Morrison, 205)

Yet I cared little for beauty, but more for acceptance. All I wanted was to be able to go into a restaurant with my family without feeling shame. I wanted to be able to do things without feeling fear that people were judging us. Sometimes I found myself shielding myself against the possibility of racism, even when there was none to be found.

Today, I no longer have to worry as much about it. I know that while racism still exists, I must not live my life thinking someone is judging me every step of the way. "The insults were part of the nuisances of life, like lice." (Morrison, 153) It is a waste of my time to cater to the wishes of other people, and I know that I am much stronger now.

Morrison 1

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Don’t let this pristine image fool you; I did all I could to wreck havoc on the neat lawns of the courthouses

I grew up in an apartment complex in Oxford, Mississippi, where other young Chinese emigrants settled with their children. Despite the fact that I was immensely homesick for China, I settled in comfortably. I reveled in the magnolia trees of Oxford, delighted in the other neighborhood children, and was running rogue and rampant through the town by the time I reached my sixth birthday. How odd that when I think of home, and the child I was, that I should think of Oxford, and not China. We find solace in times of strife in our community, for they help shape us into the humans we are today. It is imperative to create some sense of place, just as the “Renting blacks cast furtive glances at these owned yards and porches, and made firmer commitments to buy themselves ‘some nice little old place.’” (Morrison, 18)

I will always associate my childhood with magnolia trees

Morrison’s narrator also explains the terror that came with certain places, such as the outdoors. “Outdoors, we knew, was the real terror of life. The threat of being outdoors surfaced frequently in those days…Outdoors was the end of something, an irrevocable, physical fact, defining and complementing our metaphysical condition.” (Morrison, 17) Our surroundings have a tremendous impact on us, and just as Alice Walker remembers how “it was quite wonderful to pick a few apples, or collect those that had fallen to the ground overnight” (X321), many will think of their own backyards, the adventures they went on with pets, and the feeling they got the first time they looked at the sky. The environment in which we grow up serves as a community, a place where we belong.

Another important sector of community is family, and the narrator indicates the importance of cohesiveness, especially in such a busy and confused household. She refers to “The three of us, Pecola, Frieda, and I…” (Morrison, 23) often, and one can tell that she used this as a shell against the hardships she was facing in the outside world.

The bond between a mother and her child is unexplainable

“And in the night, when my coughing was dry and tough, feet padded into the room, hands repined the flannel, readjusted the quilt, and rested a moment on my forehead. So when I think of autumn, I think of somebody with hands who does not want me to die.” (Morrison, 12) Just as the narrator’s mother makes a deep impression on her, so did my own mother (and I’m sure many mothers of this world) with her nurturing. I often think of those nights in my youth when I was overcome with the urge to vomit. I would call out to my mother in the night and she would always come, and before I could even get out the words, “I think I’m going to throw up”, she would hold out her hands to catch the projectiles. And as I was hurling my insides out, eyes stinging, I recall being astounded at the love my mother had for me, enough for her to plunge without doubt to catch my own disgusting vomit. The depth of my mother’s love, from these actions, seemed to draw from a never-ending well.

Dass Extra Credit 2

“We also see how uncomfortable we may be about many of the desires situations call forth—our need to appear responsible, useful, powerful, moral, worthy, needed, and so on.” (Dass 188) I think many people have this problem—they wish to help, but once the time comes for them to actually step up and take the role as a leader (because in some ways, I think leadership is a part of helping), they are immediately regretful of this new responsibility. “Helping out gets heavy”, and I can present the example of being an extremely busy and involved college student. I find myself constantly running from obligation to obligation every day, and barely even have time for my friends during the week. This is how much of America operates; businessmen rushing to their meetings, mothers running to get their kids from school, drivers who are in a hurry to get home—all of these people who make up our society have very little time to spare. Stopping to help someone, or even taking time out of a busy schedule to make the effort to help is just too much for some people.

“Looking more closely still, we might notice how we tend to manipulate people towards the fulfillment of our own motives and needs—and perhaps go on to justify this in the name of good intentions or “what’s right for others.” (Dass 189) I can think of several instances in which I had to fulfill my 100+ hours of community service in order to graduate high school. When I went to actually volunteer, I did not really have any emotional ties to the organization. I rarely even knew the causes in which I was participating, and when I think back on all the volunteering I did, it seems that I was not doing it out of the compassion of my own heart, but for the hours I needed. I was using the mask of “good intentions” for my own gains.

Dass addresses this problem in his book. He states, “Rather, we’re loosening our attachment to our motives by stepping behind them.” (Dass 193) The next time I volunteer, I should try to focus on the fact that my actions are aiding other people, rather than on the hours I am getting. This attitude will not only make me perform better, but engage me more emotionally.

There is also the concern that someone is taking advantage of your generous nature. When I was in middle school, one of my best friends had trouble in math class, so every morning; she and I would compare homework answers. Soon, it got to be that I was helping her do her homework in the morning, and finally, she was simply copying the answers from me. I thought I was being helpful, but looking back on it, I realize that I could have been a bit of a pushover. That is why I am sometimes reluctant to help, because I am suspicious of a person’s intent. Again, this is something that I think that a lot of people can relate to—you’re putting your services out there, and hoping that people aren’t just using you.

How Can I Help?

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Lend a helping hand: we say this more than we do

“It’s not something we really think about, merely the instinctive response of an open heart.” (Dass 5) Rarely do we have to stop and think, “should I help this person?” When a friend asks us for a pencil, we oblige; when a stranger asks us for the time, we give it to them willingly, and when asked for directions, we will always respond. However, I think our society is runs on the thought process of “someone else will help.” I am guilty of this—when students in my classes send out the mass email asking for notes or confirmation of a test date, I do not respond, thinking, “oh, someone else will help them.” Needless to say, if everyone thought this way, the poor person would not receive any help at all, and my justification would be fruitless.

“How much are we willing to give, and what are we holding on to?” (Dass 9) There are limits to my helpfulness, as there are with all people. I often ignore the people giving out fliers in the West Mall, and I have never given homeless people money. Yet if my friends or family asked for help, I would be willing to do anything. I find myself asking where I “draw the line…how much I’m prepared to give, and what I need to hold on to.” (Dass 13)

Helping others can easily contribute to helping ourselves

If we don’t ask for help, how can we help others? “We may have a difficult time facing the suffering of others because we don’t know how to deal with our own pain and fear” (Dass 14) I never thought much about it before, but it takes a lot for me to ask for help. There is too much pride in me, too much of a desire to seem knowledgeable and able, to allow myself to present a weakness or a flaw.

Yet when I am most lost within myself, when I am confused and questioning who I am, I am sometimes overcome with a desire to help, a “desire to feel useful” (Dass 10). In some skewed way, I believe that my aid to others will help me feel justified and perhaps more in tune with who I am. In reality, I don’t even know if half the time I’m helping for the sake of aiding other people, or just to help myself.

The case of Kitty Genovese led to an entire psychological phenomenon

An interesting note on the subject of not helping: I am reminded of the story of Kitty Genovese, whose murder demonstrated one of the most prevalent thought processes in our society. Kitty Genovese was a 28-year-old woman who was stabbed to death outside her apartment in Brooklyn. It was later discovered that many of her neighbors and passersby saw her being stabbed and simply did nothing to help. This led to the coining of the term “bystander effect”, in which individuals are less likely to help others in an emergency situation when other people are present. The probability of help is inversely proportional to the number of bystanders.

Detached Love

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Friends forever?

My senior year of high school was not as carefree as I had once thought it would be. Not only was I juggling six AP classes, the stress of college applications, orchestra, and a job, but one of my best friends decided that her relationship with her boyfriend was more important than that of her friends. This friend was not a fleeting presence who just flitted in and out of my life, but one whom I had been friends with since elementary school.

Initially, I was upset to the point of tears. What had I done wrong? I had only ever been the best friend I could be: we had always had fun together, and rarely fought. I had been there for her during times of strife, had indulged in her random whims and had even humored her when she was clearly in the wrong. I decided that I could not lose the friendship, despite her clear attempts to sever, or at least weaken the bond. Just like Siddhartha with his son, I “sought to win [her] heart with love and kind patience, and I intend[ed] to capture it.” (Hesse 111)

Even in friendship, there must be a certain degree of detachment.

This struggle lasted all senior year, stretched through the summer, and continued even through the distance of college. I saw her intermittently, and although we were not hostile, I felt that she had changed. She was no longer the odd, spunky girl who unplugged every plug in the house for environmental purposes, but this new cookie-cutter person of whom we used to spite. While we were still “friends”, I knew that she was now a part of something to which I could no longer relate. Even after all that time and distance, “the wound still burned” (Hesse 122).

At that time, my mother acted as my Vasudeva, and told me much of the same thing he told Siddhartha: ““I see you suffering, but you’re suffering a pain which is somewhat laughable, and at which you’ll soon be laughing yourself.” (Hesse 116) At the time, I could not imagine just “dropping it” and moving on, but as time passed, I began to realize that, while I still loved my friend very much, I no longer had the same emotional attachment to her that I had previously.

Over spring break, I had coffee with her for the first time since Christmas, and I was surprised at how forgiving I was with the ways in which she had changed. True, she was now friends with a new group of people, but the person she was had not changed; she still had a good heart and still wanted the best for people. Like Siddhartha, “I understood…and shared [her] life, which was not guided by thoughts and insight, but only by urges and wishes.” (Hesse 120)

Detachment and love: can they go hand in hand?

This experience, more than anything, taught me about detached love. As much as I loved my friend, I had to learn to maintain a certain mindset, and most importantly, not place as much emotional stake in a relationship. While I wanted the best for her, my definition of “the best” was who I wanted her to be, not who she wanted. I believe that love with detachment for me relates very closely to tolerance, in that I need to see “people living for themselves, [see] them achieve an infinite amount for themselves, endure an infinite amount.” (Hesse 121), and not define my love for them based on my idea of achievements.

Siddhartha and Buddhism

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When I read my old middle school diaries, the pages are filled with hopes of becoming part of the ‘popular’ crowd. I etched diagrams of how to assimilate myself into the cool lunch table, and kept lists of observations on the popular kids. I did not care which friends I made, as long as they could up my standing in social rank. Upon entering high school, I found myself some of the best friends I could ever have, and we changed and molded with each other. I felt most like myself when I was with my friends.

My friends; I always believed that your friends are a reflection of who you are

Yet as the threat of college, and of them leaving me drew nearer, I found that I did not really know myself. Much like Siddhartha, “I was afraid of myself, I was fleeing from myself!” (Hesse 39) My friends had represented who I was, and I was proud of having them at my side, but with growing up came separation: they were going to be dispersed throughout the country, and I was to be left alone. As they slowly left me one by one, I felt “flight from [my] being” (Hesse 19); “I…lost myself in the process” (Hesse 39) and when I entered UT, I searched desperately for those scattered pieces of my previous self.

Siddhartha sought to escape the pain and lies of the world

I am willing to admit that the first semester of college for me was incredibly lonely. Despite being surrounded from friends and acquaintances from my high school and having my parents only fifteen minutes away, “the world tasted bitter.” (Hesse 16) I wanted nothing more than my best friends to come back and surround me like a protective shell.
This is where I can sympathize with Siddhartha, who also embarked in a search. He sought “freedom” (Hesse 39) and “no desire, no imitation, no attempts at being seen—only light and peace.” (Hesse 30) I interpret this peace to be a peace with oneself, which is what I sought, and what I am still seeking. It is here that I find that I relate to Buddhism the most out of all religions, because I feel as if I am also on the journey Siddhartha took. I am also looking for answers, truth, and peace.

Our relationship with religion

No matter which religion is “right”, I believe that all religions serve a common purpose: to provide hope and love in times of strife. We are like the frightened birds shivering in the cold, and religion “soothes with a touch the wild thing’s fright,/Composed its ruffled vans, calmed its quick heart,/Caressed it into peace with light kind palms.” (X240) Here is the idea of turning fear into love: in the darkest of times, a religion can offer the light that enables many people to get through their pain. Even though I do not consider myself particularly religious in the slightest, I can definitely sympathize and understand why people need religion: the knowledge of having someone or something that watches over you is very soothing, and gives people the hope they need.

Many of the upperclassmen I have talked to admitted that they were incredibly lonely in their first semesters of college. Even my mother told me that she felt the way I did upon entering college. There is comfort in knowing that I was not alone, and that these feelings are universal. Thus I understand the need for religion: people need a way to feel less alone.

Jainism vs. Kipling

We Own The Sky - M83
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A natural pool at the Barton Creek Greenbelt, one of the many trails in Austin.

This isn’t something I readily admit to people, but I really enjoy walking in the woods by myself. In Austin especially, there are plenty of trails and preserves that maintain the authenticity of nature, and even in my suburban neighborhood, I can find at least three trails that lead to springs and thickets. When I was younger, I was always outside, but with age came other responsibilities, and I have grown farther from nature than I was as a child. Age, along with increased duties and material concerns, has pulled us away from nature. Many people cannot hear the “voices of plants and animals” (X234) because they choose not to listen, or they have forgotten how.

In India, reverence for nature is extremely prevalent, especially with the cow, which “emerges as a symbolic focus for a body of metaphysical thought crystallizing in relatively modern times” (X272) and is somewhat a “symbol of the Mother Goddess” (X272). Eastern religions especially focus on the symbolism of animals, while most western religions rely on man or ideas to carry through their religion.

It may be a long time before I’m reading to “love” spiders, but at this point, I’m doing a good job of not killing them!

“The practice of ahimsa calls forth the greatest courage” (X231), that is, the courage to rid ourselves of the instinct kill and destroy, and to “love my enemy” (X231). Ahimsa practitioners are truly the extreme of displaying respect for nature, and while I cannot fathom how it can be done, I do admire their philosophy that every being on earth is precious. There have been times when I have failed to see “the beauty of the cow” (X258) and when I really wanted to step on an insect. There was always a discrepancy in my compassion for animals and my attempted compassion for insects—I just could not find it within myself to tolerate their existence. If I saw a bug, I had to squash it, sometimes without a second thought. Recently, I have been trying to reduce the “narrowness of sympathy” I harbor towards these creatures. Over the weekend, I saw a spider crawling up the side of my wall, and I had to repress the urge to slap it away. If I really inspected it, the thing was quite innocent and rather fascinating, especially as I watched it weaving its way down the wall. The spider remains living, and is most likely somewhere in my dorm today. I am not comfortable with this notion, but at least I know that we are able to coexist.

An example of the struggle between the city and the wild.

In the last class, Andrew brought up the point that we have created universities, cities, and infrastructures that are just as detrimental to animals and nature as our actions of eating meat is. Our “self-centered greed, aided and abetted by ingenious technologies [is] no longer properly restrained.” (X232) This is true; with the growth of technology, humans have exploded in their desires for the latest and most convenient amenities, and forget the consequences of their actions. Instead, “Wants should be reduced, desires curbed, and consumption levels kept within reasonable limits.” (X236)

Hunting and Imperialism

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One of my best friends has a ranch up by Kerrville, and every holiday, our group caravans to this home away from home. Upon entering the cabin, one can always expect to be greeted with the heads of various deer and even a moose, all mounted proudly and grotesquely above fireplaces and headboards. The specific reason this ranch was purchased was for hunting, and many of the animals on their property are simply waiting to die.

A scene from the movie version of The Most Dangerous Game, a short story by Richard Connell.
I see hunting as essentially killing animals for fun. There are cases in which hunting is “crucial to survive” (X170B), but the majority of North Americans hunt for recreational purposes, unless they live in places like Alaska or the northern parts of Canada. Personally, I have never agreed with hunting. It is a sport—A SPORT—to seek to end the life of something. “Pain and pleasure [are] the springs of human action” (X170H), and for those who derive pleasure from such a sick spectacle, I harbor nothing but disgust. Even more sickening to me are those who have hunted animals to the point of extinction. Perhaps a good dose of a real life The Most Dangerous Game scenario is required for humans to fully understand the monstrous absurdity they call a sport.

Pleasure and a photograph, in exchange for a life.

A large part of sports is involved with winning, but what are we winning when we hunt? Is it truly the head of an animal, “the appeal of such trophy” (X197) mounted above our fireplaces that causes us pleasure, or the knowledge that we conquered something greater than ourselves, that immeasurable greatness of nature? For many hunters, compassion for the animal is nonexistent; meanwhile, the animal itself has “nothing left but unable misery” (X215), and for what: as a new addition to the family den? A great commemorative photograph as it bleeds in the hands of its proud killer?

Tarzan: the idol of my childhood. The villain of this movie wishes not only to dominate the land, but to capture the silverback gorillas (one of them being Tarzan’s father).

The hunter’s tendency to glorify conquest and domination over an animal can be closely linked to that of one empire defeating another. “Triumphing over a dangerous animal and subduing unwilling natives” (X200) often exhibits the same attitudes towards those being conquered, such as in the case of Spanish and Portuguese imperialism in Latin America. Even Disney was able to see the connection between domination of a culture and that of an animal, as seen by the movie Tarzan (I highly recommend this movie, if not for the catchy songs, then for the awesome way in which Tarzan surfs the trees). And in Africa and Asia, natives were, “in addition to laziness and insubordination…frequently accused of cowardice” (X204).

A depiction of the Portuguese enslavement in the 18th century

The common thought of these natives as a lesser species or race, which thus justified the imperialist countries to treat them as such, is reflected in the way people treat animals. We often see them as less intelligent, less able, and on the whole less deserving at life than us, thus treating them with disrespect and cruelty. We validate hunting animals because “it’s all in good fun” and because we think they are here to serve us, just as Portugal rationalized the enslavement of a society because of differences.

Fear vs. Love

When I was a child, I was terrified of all insects. The most disturbing thing about them was not their appearance, but their unpredictable movements. Often times, I found myself in a stare down with a creepy-crawly, then screaming and flapping my hands as it suddenly flew towards my face.

Even grasshoppers, one of the most innocent of insects, terrified me.

One afternoon, as I sat building a hill out of a mound of dirt, I was horrified to see a grasshopper land on my arm. But this grasshopper did not display signs of ill intent, in fact, it was missing a leg. Was this grasshopper not just “a man like me?” (X145) I actually felt pity for this poor creature, which only wanted a resting point. It did not land purposefully on my arm because it knew I would be alarmed. “Can I see another’s woe, and not be in sorrow too?” (X142)

Love – is it the answer to everything?

“I remember a land where all were good” (X164), but because diversity and evolution, fear has shaped and transformed our society. There is still “good” in this world, but it is preceded by fear and lack of understanding. In regards to “fear vs. love”, I don’t necessarily associate love, but understanding as being the solution to ending fear. The way to battle fear is understanding, and of course, the omniscient idea of compassion. Only with understanding and compassion can come the eventual love, and a way to conquer any preexisting notions. This has been shown in various cases, from religious and racial intolerance, to the relationship between humans and animals.

Robert Frost wrote many poems regarding nature, and explores the relationship between man and nature.

The Most of It, a poem by Robert Frost, explains the dependence between man and nature. What is the source of nature, he asks? The natural world does not share our human sentiments, and man is insignificant and powerless compared to nature. Yet many seem to think that nature can be a source of cruelty and fear. I disagree: cruelty is a choice, and nature cannot choose. “Cruelty has a human heart, and jealousy a human face” (X146). I associate jealousy, hatred, and evil with humans, for it is not nature’s choice to do something; it is “that way for a reason.” (X159) For example, many carnivores “are not idle predators; when they kill, they kill to eat” (X154), whereas it is a sport in the human world to kill.

Jesus and Vegetarianism

Many Eastern religions show mercy to animals

I am not particularly well versed in Western religions, because I do not really identify with them. However, I have always found it fascinating that many Eastern religions include animals into their beliefs and practices. The Bible says to “love thy neighbor”, but many wonder “who is my neighbor” (X130)? Does the definition of a “neighbor” extend to animals? Western religions seem to focus more on the human rather than life as a whole, and it is difficult to see “Jesus’ special concern for the animal world.” (X136), for much literature is dedicated to “the fellow man”.

The One Who Showed Mercy

However, the Bible says “Be ye therefore merciful, as your Father also is merciful” (X129), which I interpret as being merciful to all beings. While I do not practice any form of Christianity, I believe that this philosophy is a decent way to live life, as it is pervasive in all religions.
I would like to imagine that when Jesus referred to “all strife and suffering” (X135), he was also including that of animals and of nature. However, modern interpretation has not really paid much attention to the extension of this notion to animals, evident in the fact that most western religions disregard the suffering of animals and plants. At this point, I do not think our culture would allow us to accept that Jesus was a vegetarian.

Does Jesus’ love extend to animals? Does it matter?

Regardless of whether or not Jesus was indeed a vegetarian, I do not think that in this day and age, such an argument would change many people’s minds, because “meat eating is already ritualized in our culture” (X135). Was Jesus a vegetarian? I don’t think it really matters. Many people have already succeeded in doing things that Jesus would not tolerate, such as “ slaughtering and destroying others” (X137), so I don’t see what difference the revelation of his vegetarianism would bring. No matter what, I believe that most people are selectively religious, that is, they pick out parts of their religion with which they agree and ignore other parts. So if it were found out that Jesus was a vegetarian, I don’t think many people would make the switch from meat to nonmeat, simply because they may believe that they are serving their religion in other better ways.

Disgrace

Witness the healing power of nature!

In the book Disgrace, David Lurie finds a “redeeming sense of compassion” (X75) from his experience at an animal clinic, where he helps end the lives of diseased and unwanted dogs. His past is riddled with sexual crimes and hapless circumstances, yet this experience at the animal clinic seems to heal him. I have written in the past of the power of nature, and I truly believe that there exists a healing component in nature.

Nature is not necessarily a “world at peace” (X123), but it is the closest that we, as humans, can come to being able to rid ourselves of the “old wickedness” (X123), or the manmade evils in the world. Only in nature can we find and satisfy our internal need for peace by “giving oneself to the world, or to an idea of the world.” (X87) It requires that we shed our human worries and egotistical thoughts, instead giving wholly to the one thing that always gives to us.

Nature requires from us reverence and passivity. It is a chance for us to watch and listen, to be at peace inside instead of our usual impulse to be racing from one thing to the next.

Babe is an example of the enduring relationship between humans and animals.

Most of all, nature needs us to love. This can be most apparent in our relationship with animals, for example, Lurie’s experience with the animals he kills: “He has learned by now, from her, to concentrate all his attention on the animal they are killing, giving it what he no longer has difficulty in calling by its proper name: love.” (X91) There is a certain amount of humility and self-deprecation that nature requires from us, and in our love for animals, we can truly find the pure and unadulterated love that we so long for.

How can you say no to these puppies?

In regards to pets, I find that it is one of the greatest tests of the human’s capacity to be empathetic and responsible. A pet is something that is entirely dependent on you—a domestic dog cannot feed itself if you do not put its food out, and a cat cannot quench its thirst if you do not give it water. A pet gives itself to its owner, serving him or her with loyalty, love, and faith, and the owner must reciprocate by giving the pet the best life possible. While separated by different languages, thought patterns, and physical abilities, the owner and his or her pet are connected by love, and a mutual duty to serve each other.

This video, called Christian the Lion, shows the enduring love between humans and an animal of seemingly dangerous demeanor.

Religion and the Environment

Blue Ridge Mountains - Fleet Foxes

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Humanities are the study of the human condition, thus animal humanities is the study of the animal conditions and the “different treatment of animals and humans” (X98). By now, I’ve written extensively on the treatment of animals, so I thought with this DB, I would focus more on the environment, which is every bit as important to me as those of animal issues.

Jainism is the most extreme example of a benevolent and respectful religion, believing that every soul is divine, and that no harm shall be caused to living beings.

It is widely accepted that “human belief and practice mark the earth”, yet the two most popular “beliefs” (religions) that dominate this earth say very little about the human’s practices toward nature and the environment. The lack of interest in the state of the environment could thus be attributed the little emphasis placed in these religions. However, the thought of giving back to the environment is not altogether new and foreign; in fact, “This moral concept can be traced back further: from Buddha to Hinduism and the Rig-Veda, the Indus civilization perhaps, and then to Mesopotamia and Egypt; while the Pythagorean school owed much to the Orphic religion, the Eleusinian Mysteries and the cult of Dionysus, which, again, can be traced back to Egypt.” (X110)

An image from ‘The Giving Tree’, a children’s book that depicts a rather cute, albeit accurate relationship between a human and a tree.

One thing that has always struck me about Eastern religions is their focus on “life, not the human person” (X96). To me, Western religions like Judaism, Christianity, and Islam deal more with the human and its relationships with other humans, and less with nature. They have “created a dominantly human-focused morality.” (X94) I always found myself more drawn to the natural world, which is why it was hard for me to believe and exercise “God above nature” (X94). I believe that one should respect each plant, tree, and river, and exercise “friendliness (maitri) and compassion (karuna)” (X97) to every living thing, because even without the function of speech and emotions, it is still “an organic entity” (Dick 198), which is what we all are.

With an entire platter of religions from which we can choose, it is easy to see overlapping morals and beliefs.

Religions which focus on the environment just as much as the human, I think, are much more in tune with the world, and are able to see the bigger picture. They understand that there can be peaceful coexistence, and most importantly, they understand that the right of life, which is universal in ever religion, applies not only to the human, but also to every single thing on this earth.

Relationship to the Animal Kingdom

Hearts On Fire - Cut Copy

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Awesome male + cute dog = collective “awww” around the world.

You will find that many girls, when asked what qualities they find attractive in a mate, will respond with ‘kindness to animals’. This is not because girls are naïve, fantastical beings who believe in world peace and fluffy kittens, but because the way in which a human treats an animal offers sight into ‘the abyssal limit of the human: the inhuman or the ahuman, the ends of man…the border crossing from which vantage man dares to announce himself…calling himself by the name that he believes he gives himself.” (Derrida 26) If anything, it is the best indicator of the compassion and sympathy within others, for the way in which a human treats an animal is an example of the adage "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

Lord of the Flies shows the depravity that can overcome the ‘human spirit’

Humans put themselves on such a high pedestal; we believe that our capacity for intelligence and emotions far exceeds those of animals, yet we turn a blind eye to the things that make us depraved and sick. We forget that as humans we are still capable of rape, torture, and murder. While the thought processes that go into making decisions of whether or not to act on these urges is attributed to humans, I believe that a decision to commit any of the three examples listed above lowers the human and makes them “no better than a brute” (X35), a “BEAST” (X35). We also forget the emotions such as jealousy, greed, pride, and hatred, that when acted upon, can really make us inhuman. As the Cheshire cat says, “We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.” (Derrida 24)

So perhaps what makes us “human”, what we define as “one of the ‘properties’ of man” (Derrida 22) is not our ability to think, but our ability to feel and to make a choice regarding that feeling. This, I believe, is what allows us to give ourselves the title of “being humane” (X37), because it is within us to act with “civility, courtesy, politeness, good behavior; KINDNESS, [and] obligingness.” (X37) When we are faced with someone in pain, we feel sympathy for them and “a desire to relieve it” (X41), but what truly makes the human being amazing is its ability to act on that feeling.

Baby chicks, not nuggets.

We then forget the feeling that is shared with the most fervor between humans and animals: love. For those who argue that a mother bear protects its cubs because it is hereditary, that the it simply has instincts to protect it’s genes, and that these actions are masked by the feeling of love, I say that the same argument could be made for humans, that any of our feelings are simply because they are “programmed” (Dick 59) into our genes, thereby making us no more than androids. As Bentham states, “the question is not, Can they reason? Nor, Can they talk?” (Bentham 47). We should not be asking questions about animals, but about ourselves. Do we have the capacity for compassion? Can we make rational decisions? The answer is yes, and because it is so, because humans are able to resist temptations and ignorance with wisdom and gather within a “community of feeling” (X43), then it is our RESPONSIBILITY, our DUTY, to relieve “the suffering or distress of another” (X41).