Esoteric Vegetarianism
Vegetarianism, like any other sufficiently serious teaching, presents two aspects: the outer, visible, or exoteric; and the inner — causal and hidden, or esoteric. The former finds expression in diet — that is, in a defined selection of foods; the latter concerns the underlying motivation and worldview. In this article we shall attempt to outline the philosophy of vegetarianism. Once this philosophy is grasped, it becomes easier to make deliberate and conscious choices in daily life — not only with regard to diet, but in many other spheres as well.
The esoteric dimension of vegetarianism — its hidden causal power — lies in discerning the very meaning of nourishment within the framework of the One Life. As we begin to feel and recognize ourselves as integral parts of a single living organism, our attitude will inevitably change toward everything around us: food, other human beings, the natural environment, events, and so on.
Reasons for Vegetarianism
The reasons why a person adopts vegetarianism can be quite diverse. Among the most common, we may distinguish the following seven, of which the first six are exoteric, while the seventh reflects an esoteric approach:
- Tradition – some are born into families where vegetarianism is observed, either on religious grounds or as part of a long-established household custom.
- Fashion – a trend that extends into every sphere of life, and diet is no exception. For some, vegetarianism becomes a way to signal modernity or progressiveness.
- Health – others are compelled to adopt this diet for medical reasons.
- Deference to authority – certain individuals, lacking the inclination or opportunity to examine dietary issues themselves, simply follow the guidance of a person whom they trust.
- Compassion (sentiment) – an unreflective empathy toward living beings, arising from intuitive sensitivity to their suffering and their desire for life, accompanied by a spontaneous urge to share in that experience.
- Natural disposition – for some, vegetarianism is innate: they feel no desire to consume meat, and are repelled by its appearance, taste, or smell. Such a tendency may be regarded as the result of merits accumulated in previous lives.
- Worldview – finally, some embrace this form of diet as part of a broader search for answers to fundamental questions, a striving to live in harmony with nature, and a conscious effort to order one’s daily life accordingly.
In each individual case, several of the reasons mentioned above may be interwoven, with their variations and nuances, as well as additional personal motives and preferences. These may even include quite selfish or self-serving considerations, which may be unfavorable for the person’s own spiritual growth, yet still prove beneficial to other living beings. For instance, one who refrains from meat solely in order to rid the body of some ailment does not thereby advance in spiritual development; yet such a decision indirectly reduces the suffering of animals raised for slaughter, since it lowers the demand for them. And if the individual in question happens to be the owner of such animals — a cattle-breeder, for example — his decision may even prolong or save a number of lives.
The life of every human being is so individual and unique, and the experience required for our growth so unpredictable, that at times even what seems harmful may turn out to be useful. Yet let us leave such paradoxes to the intuition of the reader, for they concern only particular cases. Here we shall attempt instead to discern the universal laws, which are more constant and predictable, and therefore easier to trace and to comprehend.
Let us attempt to consider the question of vegetarianism in the broadest possible sense. We shall try to trace the fundamental premises underlying this phenomenon, and determine to what extent it is justified and reasonable, how far it accords with evolution, with the structure of the universe, and with the development of society. To this end, let us approach the subject by moving from the universal to the particular, so that by understanding how the world is constituted we may discover within it the most fitting and beneficial place and mode of action — one that serves both ourselves and the whole.
We shall begin with the theoretical aspect of the issue, starting from the widest perspective, then proceed to examine certain details, and finally conclude with practical advice and suggestions more directly related to daily life. Many people, in their impatient desire for quick results, tend to avoid theory and general reflection. Yet if we wish our lives to be conscious and integrated, we must form a clear picture of how the world is structured, what laws have led us to our present condition, and what consequences may follow from our choices and ways of living. With such an understanding, many of our questions and doubts will simply dissolve; choices will become easier and clearer, and life less chaotic and unpredictable.
Moreover, in accordance with the law of analogy — which affirms universal interconnection and mutual interpenetration — we shall find, in the course of our reflections, that while considering the subject of diet we are led, in a remarkable way, to answers regarding other questions not directly related to diet — questions arising from entirely different spheres of life and activity.
Following the principle of “from the universal to the particular,” let us begin by examining the foundations of the world’s structure, with special regard to the emergence within it of various objects and living beings.
The One Element
First of all, it must be borne in mind that, according to the theosophical worldview, the entire diversity of our world is built from countless combinations of a single primordial element, manifesting in polar states and qualities: energy and matter, above and below, positive and negative, and so forth. On the physical plane this element may readily be discerned in hydrogen — the lightest and simplest of all chemical elements — where matter is represented by the atomic nucleus, consisting of a single proton, and energy by the electronic shell, consisting of a single electron[1]. All the remaining chemical elements are but more complex variations of this simplest structure. From them are formed molecules, cells, organs, and living organisms. On the one hand, we can observe the widest possible differentiation, for, as the saying goes, no two grains of sand are exactly alike. On the other hand, all this diversity is nothing but the manifold expressions of the one element.
Describing the emergence of diversity in a slightly different way, we may say that at the first stage there appears the single and unique element; at the second, it assumes polarity; at the third, a relation arises between the two poles, giving birth to an inner triadic cause; and at the fourth, from this triad proceeds the vast variety of our manifested sevenfold world. Yet at every stage of the world’s evolution we must never lose sight of the idea of the one source. This principle is fundamental, and to a great extent determinative, for understanding all that we shall discuss hereafter.
An important consequence of recognizing the one element as the source of our existence and of all the diversity around us is the conclusion that all beings and phenomena in the world are interconnected. In particular, this means that aggressive human behaviour inevitably transforms the environment into a more aggressive one. An unhealthy attitude toward nature and its resources generates an unhealthy habitat for ourselves. We see water and air growing increasingly polluted, the soil becoming less fertile, relations between people more strained, wars more extensive, crimes more sophisticated — all of this is the result of a selfish and exploitative attitude toward the world.
In other words, the interconnection of all beings — if regarded as a static characteristic, conveying information about their common origin and inseparable bonds — manifests itself in interdependence, a dynamic characteristic of mutual influence, expressed on the level of processes and events. Every action of every being affects others; and the more developed the being, the greater its capacities, the wider the consequences of its actions, and correspondingly the greater its responsibility.
In nature there is not a single event absolutely isolated: on the one hand, nothing occurs without leaving its reflection in the world; on the other, every event is itself the reflection of something else. This perspective is key to understanding the philosophy of vegetarianism, and thus all other aspects of the question should always be considered against its background.
The world exists and evolves through balanced interaction; therefore, whenever we disturb that balance by seeking more than is truly needed, the resources available to us inevitably begin to diminish. If we act with cruelty toward nature and living beings — slaughtering animals, cutting down forests, burning fields, destroying mountains, polluting rivers — the response will mirror our actions: we shall face devastating floods and earthquakes, droughts and swarms of ravenous insects, harmful viruses and bacteria. No epidemic or pandemic is ever a merely mechanical occurrence; all such phenomena reflect our collective attitude toward the world. It is not an individual or a single group of people who create such situations, but the persistent tendency of humanity as a whole toward a consumerist way of life. Every catastrophe is shaped across many generations. Nor does it matter what countries displayed which level of civilization: it is the constant inclination of great numbers of people toward selfish thought and action that lays the foundation for large-scale calamities.
In the end, we must come to realize and to feel ourselves integral parts of a single world. Integral also in the sense that, whenever we strike a blow, we must be prepared for the inevitable sensation of pain; for our body, like a cell of a much greater organism, is inseparably linked with all the other cells. Figuratively speaking, we share a common nervous system with all living beings.[2]
Kingdoms of Nature and Living Beings
The interaction among the kingdoms of nature, particularly in terms of their mutual nourishment, was examined in detail in the article Forms of Nourishment. Here, however, let us look more deeply into the characteristics of each kingdom, which in a broader outline may be grouped into six:
In order to grasp the esoteric aspect of vegetarianism, a few words must be said about each of these kingdoms of nature — what distinguishes them, what their purpose is, what their unique function may be, and what role they play in the greater process of evolution. Once this is understood, we shall be able to build more harmonious relationships with them and to conduct ourselves in a manner appropriate to our place within the ecosystem of the universe.
Since all beings are interconnected, the existence of each one of us requires the participation of many others. This leads to such notions as cooperation, symbiosis, sacrifice, and self-sacrifice — but also to such notions as abuse, violence, and the like. Although the whole world subsists through sacrifice, we must not exceed the limits of what is rightfully ours.
The common task of the development of all kingdoms of nature is to reflect as fully as possible the qualities of consciousness within or through matter. Yet each kingdom creates its own special conditions for this purpose. The task of every being is to evolve without violating those conditions, without creating obstacles for itself, and without hindering the evolution of others.
Minerals do not die when passing from one organism into another. The life of the mineral kingdom rests upon the cohesion of atoms; therefore its death is not the alteration of chemical composition, but the disintegration of the elements themselves. In this sense, an atomic explosion may be called the destruction of a being from the mineral kingdom. Yet no matter how finely we break coal, it remains coal in every fragment; likewise silver may be divided, cast into various shapes, and later remelted to form other alloys, but in all such cases it remains silver. This is because within the mineral kingdom no definite astral form yet exists.
As the fundamental and first kingdom upon the physical plane, it is destined to reflect and provide the building elements for the appearance and growth of all the kingdoms that follow. The “body” of a mineral is the chemical element of Mendeleev’s periodic table, while its analogue of death may be seen in processes that bring about the disappearance or transformation of an element — for example, radioactive decay or synthesis within the stars.
Taking these features into account, we may conclude that when we consume minerals as food, we do not destroy them but merely rearrange their combinations.
Vegetables. A distinctive feature of the vegetable kingdom is that not every fruit gives life to a new plant, nor does every shoot mature into an adult plant. The greater part simply decays or withers. If we could recognize the fruits that would never yield offspring, and if we restricted ourselves to eating only these, our karma might be eased. More likely, however, in the light of the idea of the One Life — which affirms that all processes and beings are interconnected — we may suppose that the processes of producing all kinds of fruits and of nourishing all kinds of beings are synchronized. In this way, the fruits that remain uneaten are given a greater chance to sprout and reach maturity.
Another characteristic of the plant is that it is always growing. This order of beings has an astral body that remains in a formative stage, not yet assuming the definite and fixed outlines that will appear later in the animal kingdom. This trait enables plants to: (1) quickly restore lost parts (regeneration); (2) exclude certain parts from the life process by shedding leaves or layers of bark, drying up branches or roots, and so forth. Thus, when we eat a plant, we do not truly kill it, for it continues to grow from its roots, branches, or stems, restoring the portions that were consumed. Indeed, the very mode of reproduction of fruit-bearing plants consists in their fruits being eaten, so that the seeds may be carried to other places.
As individualization in the vegetable kingdom is not yet developed, the vital or animating energy can freely flow from one form to another. For example, several trunks, stems, or shoots may grow from a single root. We may perceive them as separate entities, but in reality they constitute a single being. If one stem withers or is cut off, the plant continues to live and to develop by sending forth another.
Thus, in view of these characteristics of the vegetable kingdom, we may say that nature itself provides a mechanism of nourishment whereby the use of another being to maintain one’s own vitality does not involve us in a violation of equilibrium or of interspecies balance.
Animals. Compared with plants, animals possess only a very limited capacity for restoring tissues and members: lost limbs do not regenerate (except in certain primitive species, which bear witness to their recent transition from the vegetable kingdom). This is because the evolutionary task of this kingdom is already of another kind: they must develop organs of perception and the nervous system.
Blood holds a special importance in the killing and consumption of an animal. It embodies the life-principle on the physical plane and therefore possesses a distinctive transcendental quality: the capacity to serve as a bridge between the gross and the ethereal worlds — the physical and the astral. As H. P. Blavatsky stated in one of the meetings of her Inner Group[3], “the white corpuscles. . . are oozed out of the Linga-Śarîra and are of the same essence as itself”, while the red corpuscles “are the progeny of the Fohatic principle”. This transcendental character of blood accounts for the various rites of bloody sacrifice.
It should be remembered, however, that blood represents the life-principle only in the grosser spheres and serves as a link with the lower astral regions. In higher worlds the life-principle is expressed through light, and those who seek to approach the higher powers turn to this source. This understanding gave rise to corresponding practices and cults. Some worship the Sun and fire as sources of light, while others turn to bloody idols. No doubt, ignorance may so confuse the concepts that even the Sun is made the object of bloody sacrifice. But this only testifies to a failure to perceive the difference between these sources of life — or, in the case of those who did perceive it, to a misuse of their knowledge.
Because of its transcendental property, blood possesses a special magnetism that attracts various lower entities. This exerts an influence on human well-being and, ultimately, upon psychic and mental health, and not infrequently upon physical health as well. Frenzy and the loss of reason on the battlefield are examples of such an influence, which, in the larger view, amount to a certain degree of possession.
Returning to the question of diet, it should be added that although meat-eaters in most cases do not themselves kill the animals, the transcendental and magnetic properties of blood remain unchanged and continue to affect them. Moreover, the slain animal, like the human being, lingers for a time in its ethereal body and accompanies the remnants of its physical body until their complete dissolution, mingling its animal emanations with the aura of the person who consumes them. This point will be considered in greater detail below.
Human beings. The distinctive feature of the human kingdom is thought; and it is precisely on this level that we can be of greatest service both to one another and to the universe. Thought may be lofty or base, practical or abstract. In general terms, we may say that we nourish one another through the soul, through fellowship and mutual support; we sustain one another psychically; we uphold one another morally; and we enrich one another intellectually. Just as with physical food, human interaction may be wholesome or it may be poisonous. With some people we feel inspired and do not wish to part; with others, we prefer not to linger. From human contact we may be uplifted and encouraged, or we may be poisoned. One may even hunger for communication, or conversely, be surfeited with it to the point of aversion.
In the context of nourishment, and following the principle of what is necessary and sufficient, we ought to shape our communication so as to be content with only that which is essential for our existence and growth — without overindulgence, without monopolizing the attention of others, without abusing their patience or courtesy, without draining their time and strength (that is, without “vampirizing” them in the broader sense). In short, we must cultivate within ourselves the virtue of modesty.
What has been said above concerns our own nourishment. With regard to how others are nourished by us, the same principle of modesty should be applied: we should not impose ourselves or our ideas on anyone, nor should we attempt to indoctrinate others or force our values upon them. Just as we take from others only what we are able to assimilate, so others will take from us only what they are capable of digesting. Mental and psychic indigestion are very real and widespread phenomena.
Thus nourishment at the human level also takes place on several planes of being. In the extreme case there is even nourishment on the physical plane, when human beings consume human flesh — whether directly, as in cannibalism, or indirectly, in medicines that contain human tissue. Such practices, however, are exceptional and testify only to ignorance and the abuse of natural powers. We, for our part, will confine ourselves to those forms of nourishment in which we remain within the bounds of our humanity and feed one another without transgressing the laws of nature.
Elementals and Gods. In the article Forms of Nourishment mention was already made of the special characteristics of elementals and gods. From the esoteric standpoint it may be added that these two kingdoms are for us entirely esoteric, for they lie beyond the reach of the physical senses and can be perceived only through the awakening of our subtler principles. Both kingdoms manifest on the physical plane only indirectly. We must be sufficiently attentive and observant if we are to discern the traces of their presence.
From this characteristic it follows that the consumption of physical food has no direct relevance to them. Here the key factor is the moral dimension: our motivations, desires, and thoughts are what build the “food chains” between our kingdoms. On this level we feed and sustain one another.
Elementals. In the context of nourishment it should be noted that the role of the elementals lies in the creation of all material forms on the physical plane. Whatever our diet may be, all food is the result of the work of the elementals; it is through them that molecules and cells are formed and that the bodies of plants and animals develop. We do not consume the elementals themselves, yet they permeate our bodies and compose them; in this sense it may be said that they sustain us.
On the other hand, our thought activity provides for them a medium of nourishment and a means of existence. They are quickened by our thoughts, endowed with power, and set in motion. We are not the only beings who give them life, but we are among those who do.
Gods. As for the kingdom of the gods, we can only surmise the nature of their true being, for this is the next stage of our evolution — one for which we must long prepare ourselves, learn much, and acquire a deeper understanding of the structure of the universe. With regard to nourishment, we may recall the saying that no fish is caught in the fisherman’s net without the gods’ permission. This does not mean, of course, that the gods are concerned with every detail of our daily lives, but it does suggest that they represent the forces that organize all processes both around and within us.
The gods nourish us with meanings, insights, and illuminations — in other words, with spiritual food. And perhaps we, in turn, nourish them with our higher aspirations and selfless thoughts. As we grow and mature, our needs for nourishment also change. As infants we are fed with milk; then our teeth emerge and we are able to take solid food; later the mind develops and requires intellectual nourishment; and finally we come to realize that “man shall not live by bread alone,”[4] and a hunger awakens for a subtler sustenance — the search for truth and the meaning of life. This is conscious interaction with the divine world.
Now that we have considered the common source from which all beings arise, our indissoluble interconnectedness with them, and their distinctive characteristics, let us turn more closely to a concept that is of particular importance for esoteric vegetarianism — namely, that of killing.
Killing
The concept of “killing” concerns not only food but is a broader matter of worldview.
Up to a certain point, consciousness — both individual and collective — develops through embodiment in form. Each embodiment or incarnation has its own potential and the corresponding span of time for the realization of that potential. To sever the link between consciousness and its form is to deprive it, for a time, of the opportunity for growth, thereby delaying its progress. Moreover, the more highly developed the being, the greater the harm caused by its killing, for its very existence, its organism, and its activity bring into interaction a multitude of less developed beings and thus contribute to their evolution.
Killing is the premature termination of the life cycle. In its energy and vitality, the body could have continued to exist longer. By design and according to its individual task, it was meant to endure longer. The life impulse is imparted at birth and may be compared to potential energy, which must be fully transformed into kinetic energy — or, in other words, expressed in action.
Incarnation is a necessary stage of development, essential for the gaining of experience. For a physical body to come into existence at all, evolution required vast stretches of time and preparatory work. It was built gradually, beginning with simple and ethereal states and culminating in the complex and gross organism of the present human form.
It must also be borne in mind that, according to the cyclic law, evolution will inevitably continue its course along the returning arc toward simplification and refinement, at which point the physical body will cease to exist. This means that those who have not completed their gathering of experience on the physical plane will be compelled to wait for the next great cycle, when evolution once more turns its spiral movement toward the solidification of forms. Only then will they be granted the opportunity to resume their evolution. Thus, by killing beings, we may delay their development for a very long time.
But let us return to the present, where physical bodies are an integral part of full development for minerals, plants, animals, and human beings. Let us consider how the concept of “killing” is revealed in connection with each of them.
We have already touched upon the killing of minerals and plants. Neither is truly killed when consumed as food. Yet in a broader context we do in fact destroy vast numbers of plants — not so much by eating them, but through the development of the food industry: forests are burned for agricultural purposes, fields are planted with monocultures. As a result, countless plants are displaced from their natural habitats and are indeed destroyed. Our civilization also kills great numbers of plants by altering humidity, light, or the composition of air and soil, although this is not directly related to their use as food. In the case of animals, however, when they are consumed, the concept of “killing” applies in its full sense.
In the animal, the astral body as a principle is already fully developed. It possesses all the same properties as the human astral body. Accordingly, the life cycle of the animal and its post-mortem state are very similar to those of the human being.
With the killing of an animal, only the connection between the physical body and the higher ethereal bodies is destroyed. Without this link the physical body cannot live, and therefore it immediately begins to disintegrate. The other bodies, however, retain their connection with the source of life; their store of vital energy does not vanish but is compelled to unfold on the more ethereal planes.
To clarify the difference between the post-mortem states of a human being and an animal, it must be added that the absence of reason in animals plays its part. Death before its natural time leaves both human and animal in the astral body until the arrival of natural death. Thereafter the animal proceeds to its next incarnation, while the human being begins to reap the fruits of his mental activity: first passing into purgatory (kāma-loka), then into heaven (devachan), and only after the exhaustion of the energies of all the thoughts and desires experienced during the last incarnation does he enter another birth.
At this point two conclusions may be drawn: (1) the killing of an animal delays its development for the span allotted to that species — which, in the case of what may be called “food” breeds, ranges from several years to several decades — and for this delay the killer and all who share in it will inevitably bear responsibility under the immutable law of karma; and (2) the premature death of a human being has consequences of far greater duration, since he remains in the disembodied state for several hundred, or even several thousand, years. For this reason life in incarnation is exceedingly precious.
Beyond the act of killing itself, all its circumstances are of significance: whether it was done out of necessity for survival or as a hunt for pleasure; whether death was swift or the animal was tormented; whether we felt compassion or took delight in the act. Every circumstance of our deed is taken into account, and may greatly aggravate or, on the contrary, mitigate our own fate.
Choice
The death of any being before its time deprives it of the possibility of further development — or more precisely, slows it down, compelling it to wait for the next incarnation. But in the human kingdom there exists yet another kind of death: moral death, which acts even more tragically. It casts a person backward, forcing him to come to an understanding of compassion and universal interconnectedness through additional personal suffering.
Questions of morality or ethics arise through the very existence of choice, which in turn is the direct consequence of the activity of our mental principle. Yet this principle is twofold: on the one hand, we strive to grasp the laws of the universe and incline toward refined and synthetic thought; on the other, we seek to secure our own livelihood, comfort, and advantage. The first aspiration belongs to the higher mind (intelligence); the second, to the lower mind (intellect). Both aspects of mental activity are natural and necessary for us, but the priority between them shifts as we mature, and in the course of full development it must be directed toward the higher concepts and ideals.
Of course, intellectual activity of the lower mind has its place as well: through it we survive and secure the body’s safety. Yet the truly human task is the cultivation of our higher nature, and this calls for wisdom and purposiveness. When these are brought to bear, the concerns of mere survival become secondary, or even irrelevant. The lives of the great Teachers of humanity vividly illustrate this: personal survival or comfort played no part in their mission. Their foremost duty was to assist others in their inner growth; and if this required hardship, or even the sacrifice of life itself, they faced it unflinchingly. Such conduct shows the supremacy of the higher principle of Intelligence within them. Their choices were shaped not by personal inclination, but by what most effectively served the evolution of humanity.
The same perspective can be applied to food. Why do we eat? If it is only to survive, then it matters little whether another being must be killed for that purpose. But if our actions are guided by broader and deeper considerations, mere survival ceases to be the decisive criterion.
To sum up, let us restate the essential points. When we consume animals for food, we break into their life-cycle and delay their further development. To kill a human being for one’s own survival would weigh still more heavily upon our destiny. By contrast, when we partake of fruits, leaves, stems, or flowers, we do not interrupt the life of the plant: even when deprived of part of its body, it continues to grow and unfold. In many cases, even the partial removal of a root will not destroy its vitality. A plant can truly be killed only when, as the saying goes, it is “rooted out” — that is, when every root is pulled up and no possibility of new growth remains. The vegetable kingdom itself — its very name bound up with the idea of vegetation — betrays its peculiarity: its appointed task is unending growth.
The task of the animal kingdom is of another order: the cultivation of the organs of perception. Hence the growth of every animal organism comes to a halt at a definite stage, and the creature turns instead to adaptation — securing its survival as an individual and the continuance of its species.
With the distinctive traits of plant and animal life in view, we are able to choose our food with a fuller awareness. Choice itself is, in truth, an instrument of human growth — of the human being as an individual, and of humanity as a class of beings. No such instrument was present in the kingdoms of nature that came before our own.
Alcohol
In a letter to her sister, V. P. Zhelikhovsky, H. P. Blavatsky spoke of the place of vegetarianism in the Theosophical movement in these words:
“In our [Theosophical] Society every member must become a vegetarian, abstaining from meat and from wine. This is one of our foremost rules. It is well known what a pernicious effect the vapours of blood and of alcohol have upon the spiritual side of human nature, fanning the animal passions into a raging flame.”
We have already considered the distinctive properties of blood; let us now turn our attention to alcohol.
Although nearly all forms of alcohol are prepared from plants, they nonetheless run counter to the philosophy of true vegetarianism. Outwardly this may seem a contradiction, but from the esoteric standpoint it is no contradiction at all: the refusal of alcohol flows naturally from an understanding of the deeper meaning of nourishment — its aim and its mode of operation. Alcohol must be set aside, for it retards and distorts the growth of consciousness, just as do other narcotic substances.
In its broader philosophical sense, the vegetarian system of nourishment implies not merely the consumption of plant-based foods, but the cultivation of a wholesome diet — one that does no harm either to the environment or to the human being. It embraces all levels of our sustenance.[5] Alcohol, however, disrupts the nourishment of the mind, unsettles the nourishment of the senses, poisons the physical body, and estranges us from our spiritual nature — thus inflicting harm upon all four planes of our being.
Nourishment on All Planes of Being
Some, in the name of ascetic discipline, restrict their diet to the simplest tastes, believing that variety is a form of indulgence. Yet variety is a necessary and integral part of evolution itself. We come to know the world through taste just as surely as through sight, hearing, or any other sense. A diversity of flavours in our food is essential for a deeper and more refined perception of life. To limit oneself to a single taste would be like looking at the world through glasses of one fixed colour, or listening to music composed of only a single note.
For the same reason, we also need variety in our feelings and in our thoughts. But here, too, discernment is essential. Just as physical food may contain poisons, so too there are poisons on the emotional and mental planes. We must develop the capacity to recognize them, so as not to be harmed by base emotions or harmful ideas — just as we take care not to be poisoned by spoiled food in daily life.
The diagram entitled “Nourishment on Various Planes” illustrates examples of how the different levels of our being can be sustained.
Expenditure of Energy
In broad outline, the task of nourishment can be reduced to two main functions: the supply of building material and the supply of energy. Let us look more closely at the latter. Above all, it should be noted that nourishment itself — its regularity and its richness — depends on the expenditure of energy. A large, and perhaps the larger, part of our energy is spent in resistance, in overcoming, and in opposing something.
On the physical level: the breaking down of heavy elements, the cleansing of the body from waste products, and also resistance to people who oppress us or compete with us.
On the emotional level: the balancing of emotions, the transformation of negative impressions, the suppression of negative reactions.
On the mental level: disputes with those who hold different views, including the inner dialogues we carry on with ourselves.
On the spiritual level: contending with the obscuration born of the illusion of personality.
If we set our orientation toward resistance — as human beings endowed with free will and the power of choice — then destiny will unfailingly provide us with the conditions in which resistance is required. In other words, we will always find ourselves in a competitive environment, compelled to struggle.
If, however, our outlook is more benevolent, and we see ourselves as instruments of a divine purpose, then our energy will flow in a creative direction. Mother Teresa once expressed this difference with striking clarity: she said she would never join a demonstration against war, but asked to be invited when people marched for peace. To be “against war” and to be “for peace” are two entirely different orientations.
Thus the overcoming of obstacles — whether it is the struggle to make our worldview prevail (religion, doctrine, school), to secure others’ respect, or to resist those who physically oppress us — channels our energy into conflict; and whenever we set ourselves to defeat someone, we direct our energy into opposition, where it is met and often neutralized by the counter-energy of the other side. By contrast, when we choose the path of non-resistance, we may reach our aims with far less expenditure of force.
Mahatma Gandhi, whose role in India’s liberation from British rule is well known, stands as a vivid example. He is not alone: the path of non-resistance has been the way of many Teachers of Humanity. It is characteristic, in particular, of the Christian outlook, where saints choose the way of suffering for humanity and accept the redemption of its sins at their own cost. This path consists in directing one’s energy and time into the creative work of transforming humanity — drawing others along toward a worthier life. Such an approach catalyses change not by outward compulsion but by an inner impulse, awakening and quickening their own divine nature within.
Whereas the struggle against others aims to restrict (what we regard as) wrongful actions, the path of non-resistance and the power of one’s own example encourage people to act aright. The former approach directs our efforts toward changing the outer world, often breaking out in harsh or disproportionate measures. The latter also changes the world — inevitably — but does so gently, in proportion to the readiness of those around us to accept such change.
Of course, everything must be measured and reasonable. Struggle itself has its positive side. The essential task is to discern where it will be useful, and whether it will serve selfish or altruistic aims, destruction or transformation, domination or service. A beginning vegetarian (like any new convert) sometimes throws himself into an active struggle to promote the teaching he has embraced, and inevitably meets with resistance from his surroundings: misunderstanding, ridicule, reproach. These in turn only spur him on, inflaming his zeal for battle.
In this connection we may recall Leo Tolstoy, perhaps the first successful pioneer of vegetarianism in Russia, and at the same time a champion of the ideal of non-violence. Tolstoy’s life shows how one may act in such a way as, on the one hand, to impose nothing and waste no strength in conflict with society, and on the other, to advance lofty moral ideas, changing convictions and lives in profound and lasting ways by directing energy toward the struggle against ignorance. Much the same is expressed in the well-known maxims: one must fight the sin, not the sinner; and contend not with people, but with their shortcomings.
Practice
For a practical understanding of the transition from meat-eating to vegetarianism, let us once again move from the general to the particular.
From a practical point of view, the key to success in any undertaking lies in finding one’s own balance between aspiration and patience. On the one hand, it is unwise to rush, to force events, or to break one’s own habits violently, for such an approach may end in failure and even a relapse to an earlier stage. On the other hand, it is equally harmful to postpone important decisions endlessly; this can lead to inertia, chronic passivity, and an inability to act at all.
For long-term effectiveness it is most practical to proceed by the method of gradual substitution — replacing undesirable elements step by step with those that are preferable. This follows the natural course of things, for nature is constantly renewing our bodies by producing new cells to take the place of those that die. Here, special attention should be given to the importance of small steps.
If you are a committed meat-eater with a deep-rooted habit of consuming this food, then a sound approach to changing your diet is a temporary abstention from meat, together with a gradual and partial replacement of it with plant-based foods. In this way, progress toward the goal is steady and assured. Such a change is an expression of free will and an exercise in the development of willpower through daily choices — an exercise that will gradually strengthen your convictions and bring the ideal into practice.
The most effective way to free oneself from any chronic harmful habit is to replace it with a more wholesome action — one that, in time, itself becomes habitual. The same method applies to food. We must discover those tastes and dishes among wholesome foods that we are ready to adopt in our daily diet, and use them to displace the tastes and dishes to which we have grown accustomed but which it would be better to leave behind.
To the question, “How can such an approach help a person to become better?” we may give an answer drawn from the article The Elixir of Life:
“First the neophyte will take more pleasure in things spiritual and pure. Gradually gross and material occupations will become not only uncraved for or forbidden, but simply and literally repulsive to him. He will take more pleasure in the simple sensations of Nature — the sort of feeling one can remember to have experienced as a child. He will feel more light-hearted, confident, happy. Let him take care the sensation of renewed youth does not mislead, or he will yet risk a fall into his old baser life and even lower depths. ‘Action and Re-action are equal.’
Now the desire for food will begin to cease. Let it be left off gradually — no fasting is required. Take what you feel you require. The food craved for will be the most innocent and simple. Fruit and milk will usually be the best. Then as till now, you have been simplifying the quality of your food, gradually — very gradually — as you feel capable of it diminish the quantity.”[6]
Theory is often set against practice, yet to divide them is to diminish both. To act with the greatest success we must have some understanding of what we are doing and why such conduct is the best course. The broader our understanding, the easier it is to make the right choice. The more thoroughly our theory is developed and the wider our worldview, the stronger our inner core becomes, and the more easily we are able to decide and to act.
Our worldview must not stand in contradiction to reality. The claim that human beings cannot develop fully without meat should not be generalized to all. For some individuals, meat may for a time be necessary because of personal attachment; our preferences and even our needs are themselves subject to the law of karma and shaped by previous inclinations and convictions. Yet it is important to distinguish between our individual path of development, where each of us must recognize and overcome our own weaknesses, and the objective laws of nature, according to which all beings evolve.
In building a picture of the world, we must be observant — attentive to what is happening around us. We must learn to shift from the egocentric view that takes itself as the measure of all things, and to ask instead: “How else might it be? And what would be more truly right?” The impartial observation of a seeker can provide us with wholesome food for thought. We see that the synthesis of all beings and organisms arises from a single element, making possible the transformation of any particle (vitamin, protein, mineral, and so forth) into another; that herbivorous animals build their bodies without recourse to animal food; and that in India countless generations of Brahmins, who never ate meat, nevertheless grew up with sound bodies, minds, and intellects. All this demonstrates the groundlessness of the claim that human development requires the consumption of animal flesh.
The recognition of this fact makes it easier to move into practice — shaping our lives in accordance with our convictions.
Morality and Interaction with the Universe
Our moral perception and aesthetic sense already point the way to our attitude toward food. All we need is to listen to the inner response that arises when we reflect on different kinds of nourishment. The sight of a bleeding creature convulsing in pain will awaken in many meat-eaters, too, the impulse to prevent such suffering. That alone should be enough to show that such food is not in harmony with our true nature.
From the standpoint of practical morality, it is useful to view nourishment not merely as consumption for the maintenance of our own existence, but rather as part of the universal metabolism of nature, operating on many levels. It is better to move away from regarding food as simply a means of survival, and to see it instead as a form of interaction with other beings — recognizing that we are all in constant exchange with one another, and that this exchange operates on many planes.
In this light, nourishment may be understood as a process of transforming energy and matter for the good of the whole world. For our spiritual progress it is desirable to view all processes in terms of cooperation and mutual support, shifting our focus from the egoistic pursuit of advantage to an altruistic orientation.
The universe responds to all our aspirations and actions. Its response is always proportionate and fitting. At the beginning of this article we noted examples of the universe’s reply to human aggression and to a consumerist way of life. Let us now observe that this same unbreakable interconnection ensures a response also to our peaceful aspirations. Our interaction with the universe is a constant and enduring bond. Therefore, if what flows from us is love, attentiveness, the will to do no harm, respect, and cooperation, the universe will assuredly return the same.
As a result, the one who becomes a channel for the forces of nature attains the fulfillment of all his or her aspirations in the swiftest way, for the whole universe lends its support. In view of this, it would be well if our desires became less impulsive, more conscious, and more attuned to the surrounding world — so that their realization may bring no harm to those around us.
Helpful Resources:
- The Game Changers — a documentary on vegetarianism produced by James Cameron, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Jackie Chan.
- Earthlings — a powerful film exposing the cruelty inflicted upon animals when they are used for human purposes. It is a stark and often disturbing portrayal of the conditions in which animals are kept.
- The Wikipedia article Vegetarianism.
Footnotes
- ↑ The infinite divisibility of the atomic nucleus is of no relevance in this context, since the simplest stable element remains the hydrogen atom. Likewise, the number of neutrons in the nucleus — determining the isotopes of a chemical element — is also irrelevant here, for all isotopes are but variations of a single element.
- ↑ See the article Coronavirus – a Medicine from Aggression (MTT 2020-1), where this interdependence is examined in greater detail.
- ↑ Blavatsky Collected Writings. Vol. 12. Instruction No. V. P. 700.
- ↑ According to the Gospel of Matthew (4:4), Jesus gave the following reply to the devil, who had urged Him to turn stones into bread: “Man shall not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds out of the mouth of God.” This symbolizes not only the refusal to perform useless miracles, but also points to the necessity of nourishment on different levels.
- ↑ See the article Forms of Nourishment, MTT 2022-1 (13).
- ↑ Godolphin Mitford, “The Elixir of Life,” in Five Years of Theosophy (London, 1885), p. 24.