"You Get Sick If You Don't Eat Meat!"

Once a year during Sakadawa, Tibetan culinary conventions are reversed for the course of four weeks: Not eating meat is the social norm and for a change, vegetarianism is self-understood. Tomorrow will be the first day of the Tibetan Vesak. My grandma from A Tibetan Christmas used to live on tea and buns during the whole month, and on tsepa 15, the day of the full moon which falls on 13 June this year, she would rise before dawn to take the eight Mahayana precepts. Except for the meal at noon which also consisted of some tea and a bun, she would fast to turn her focus on the mind, making the fasting become a prayer.

To observers it is often astonishing that there aren't more "full-time vegetarians" beyond Sakadawa. Tibetans usually explain it with the harsh highland climate, the historical lack of greens and the environmentally imposed necessity to eat meat for physical strength, even though that is bygone times: These days you can find any food in Tibet, with plenty of greens and fruits not only imported from China, but also locally grown. That hasn't weakened the traditional bias though that a meatless diet weakens your health.

When we openly refused a food as children, we were told, "In Africa they have nothing to eat, so be grateful and eat up!" When we left food on our plates because we were full, we were told, "Leaving food is sdigpa! Eat up!" 

Miraculously enough, none of us had any food allergies back then: "Gluten-free" or "lactose-intolerant" were unknown adjectives and "vegetarian" sounded like an illness. I for one have never been much of a carnivore from the start. It felt nauseating to eat meat even when it came disguised as Momo, the Tibetan national dish number one. The moment our parents left the dinner table, I would quickly shovel the meat over onto my brother's plate. He would quietly pass me his Momo wrappings and vegies.

My Amala would also have none of my first attempts as a teenager to consciously stop eating meat. Her first reaction was always, "You get sick if you don't eat meat!" But only with the second argument did she haul out the really big guns: "Even Gyalwa Rinpoche, who tried to subsist on a meatless diet, was forced to eat meat again, because he became very frail, and the doctors ordered him to eat meat again!"

The message was very clear: When even Tibet's Avalokitesvara in person had to eat meat to sustain his human body, what was I ordinary little mortal to think she could survive without?

Khyod sangsrgyas-las mkhaspar yodbas?

That was usually the end of my attempts to discontinue a carnivorous diet. With the years I realised that the rhetorical question "Do you presume you are smarter than the Enlightened One?" was an effective method to discourage any attempt at trying something outside of the social norm.

Only later did I learn that there are millions of Indians, who voluntarily and healthily subsist on a vegetarian diet without the slightest health deficits, and right under the Dalai Lama's nose, if I may point out.  Perhaps his cooks back then were not up to the latest level of nutritional information? And if they were Tibetan, they maybe had the same ingrained bias like my mother that a meatless diet makes you sick?

While Tibetans are generally fond of meat, I think it's safe to say that the killing aspect haunts them and they sincerely rejoice in everyone, who manages to live as a vegetarian. The Lama said, honestly rejoicing in the wholesome actions of others is also a way to accumulate great merit. In other words, the pensive carnivore might actually be in better karmic shape than the proud vegetarian.

Some also point out though they eat meat, it comes exclusively from big animals such as cattle, where one life taken lasts to feed many; and not from small animals such as for example crabs, where many lives would have to be taken to achieve the same effect. This can sound like an excuse. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak. And perhaps it also is for some, but according to Tibetan logic, a life weighs equal irrespective of size. Therefore, while fully acknowledging that taking the life of any sentient being is an unwholesome action, people tend to consider killing "only" big animals for food, a mitigating circumstance.

A further distinction is made with only two-toed "big animals" slaughtered. Meat from solidungulates such as horses is a cultural no-go. A total no-go are fish, seafood and insects enjoyed in other Buddhist countries such as Thailand. Traditionally, Tibetans haven't eaten chicken either. So although the Tibetan diet is doubtlessly carnivorous, it is indeed conservatively restricted to the meat of certain animals. Of course from the standpoint of those "certain animals" that's still bad news, but the goal to have a vegetarian world is unrealistic and from a Buddhist point of view the vegetarian diet is not harm-free either since uncountable numbers of insects die even in organic agriculture. 

My oldest cousin in Tibet, who inherited the farm where my dad was born, grows crops and keeps animals as most people in his area. His work animals are mostly Dzo, a crossbreed between Yak and cow used mainly for heavy-duty work such as ploughing fields or pulling charges. His animals also have names which is indicative of something like a personal relationship. Gü-ser ("Golden Back") is the name of the animal he loves most because it is working the hardest. During a leisurely walk through his fields where we caught up on what happened in our lives since we last met, my cousin suddenly disclosed, "Aché, I stopped eating beef. I cannot eat their flesh any longer when I see how hard they labour side by side with us." Empathy had grown in him.

Given that this relative is an upright Khampa, who are the people capable of asking in all seriousness, "If you don't eat meat, what do you eat?" this change of heart is truly remarkable. But of course he still relishes pork. There is nothing that beats phayul phaksha ("hometown pork") with loads of fat. When we first came to this part of the highlands we were invited to many homes. There was always a dish in a bowl made up of pure white cubes. The first time, my mom thinking it is Liangfen stuck in her chopsticks and ate one. To her horror it was solid pork fat, a local delicacy. Tibetans love their tshilu. Some even affectionately call their sweetheart ngayi snying-gi tshilu – "fat of my heart", woah!

My mom didn't give up preaching the beneficial effects of a carnivorous diet long after I had become a big girl, married with children and her own household. But now nearing my late grandma's age, she is also immersing herself more into the Dharma and in parallel, her conviction that not eating meat will make you sick, has been eroding. To my surprise I heard her say the other day that there are so many other ways of getting your protein, that eating meat was no longer a necessity.

The Lama could easily tell his devoted listeners to stop eating meat in order not to contribute to the killing of animals. Most would follow whatever he says without a second thought, faith runs deep. But he doesn't give them the answer. Instead the Lama works out the animals' side, explains their suffering, their stress and fear, and then leaves it up to people to do their thinking and draw their conclusions, helping them to strengthen their judgment and responsibility. And not only does he accord people the freedom to act as they see fit, he also does not judge their decisions: As long as behaviour remains ethical, he said, any decision is okay. - Definitely more appealing than vegetarian fundamentalist accusations in the style of "meat is murder!" or "don't ask me why I am a vegetarian; ask yourself why you are not!"

With time my mom befriended many people in her Dharma community, several of whom happen to be vegetarian. Seeing once is better than hearing a thousand times. Through their simple personal example, she finally became aware of her overestimation of the benefits of a carnivorous diet. As a result, my mom now limits her own meat intake to once a week. Miracles happen! Being the person my mother is she now found herself a new culinary Mantra: "Eating meat once in a while won't harm you!"

Happy Sakadawa!

Mountain Phoenix Over Tibet

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Happy Sakadawa!

Greetings From The Animal Realm

Greetings From The Animal Realm

Om Mani Padme Hum! My neighbour's cat died yesterday. Mikey was shy, seemingly indifferent and like most indoor-only cats he was fat because all he did was eat,  sleep and hide under the sofa. I'm not too fond of cats but a few times when his owner was out of town, I would refill Mikey's food and water bowls and clean his litter-box. So there was something like a personal connection and I was a bit sad when I heard he was no more.

Immediately I had to think of what we would do when our dog dies. He is getting old for a dog his size. He doesn't see so well anymore. The vet said he´d need a routine surgery to improve his vision. And although my mom insists he is just acting lazy, I suspect he doesn't hear so well anymore either because when we call him, he often doesn't react.

We owe this four-legged friend who has been with us since he was an eight-week old puppy. Were it not for him, we would never be as active as we are as a family today. Through rain or snow, nothing keeps us from doing our walks three times a day, every single day we have lived with him. And due to him, our kids have always loved the outdoors. When they were barely two, they could easily do a steep two-hour hike up the hill without any fuss, which amazed even our hardy farmer relatives in Tibet during the kids' frequent visits as toddlers – all thanks to our dog, their perfect walking companion.

Recently, the Lama talked about the Six Realms into which one could be reborn and that the human realm was considered the most fortunate because only as humans could one actively work towards attaining Buddhahood and have the best chance of breaking the Samsaric cycle. In order to motivate us to diligently practice Dharma, he pointed out the rare opportunity humans have and contrasted that to the situation of animals. That it would be easy to fall into the lower realms at any point, so we should practice as long as we had the opportunity.

Animals have a very poor chance even for achieving a better rebirth let alone attaining Buddhahood, the Lama continued. Dogs, he illustrated as an example, spend most of their day sleeping; their lives are driven by instincts and the chance to work on themselves and improve their lot was very limited. The only chance animals have for a better rebirth, the Lama pointed out, was through coming into contact with the Dharma.

He then cited the funny story of a fly resting on a dry cow pat when it was flushed three times around a Stupa by heavy rain and as a consequence of the involuntary circumambulation, the fly could improve on its rebirth and came back as a human.

At another occasion the Lama recounted a story about the Indian Buddhist saint Vasubandhu and a pigeon that had its nest right above his window. Hearing him recite Mantras and prayers each day was enough for the bird to eventually be reborn as a human who later went on to become one of Vasubandhu's disciples :--)

After I heard the Lama recount these animal tales, I began letting my dog sit with me in the prayer room in the mornings and started taking him along on occasional Kora in the hope that the circumambulations have a positive imprint on his mental continuum so he could be reborn as a human. I can't believe I'm doing this. I feel a bit like one of those Lhasan Polas you can see on the Lingkor with some sheep on the leash liberated from the butcher and now faithfully sauntering along behind them.

There were also these elderly Inji ladies who would bring their lap dogs into the temple during teachings. First I was put off by them. No decent Tibetan would ever bring something as dirty as an animal into a Lhakhang! That was just too unhygienic and disrespectful. But my view changed, as I began to understand the motivation of these ladies: All they were trying to do was give their pet a chance to "absorb" some Dharma for a better rebirth. So not only did I become more tolerant, but I too began bringing my dog into the temple even though he was bigger than those cute little Apsos and Spaniels one could tuck away into a handbag!

Alas, we must have overdone it with our love of animals: one day the temple care-taker put up a "no dogs allowed" sign at the entrance.

Some of my Tibetan friends say dogs here have a better life than many a poor person in Tibet. They say it in a way that you almost get the impression dogs shouldn't receive all this attention. They are amused to learn that dogs here have ID cards, get annual medical check-ups, vaccines and if necessary also surgery. But it's not the fault of "privileged dogs" when some humans seem to have tougher lives than them. What to do? It's all karmic after all, is it not? Rather than resent the "injustice", better move on and do something positive to improve one's future Karma.

When I look at my dog's merit account it really appears in good shape: He hasn't hurt anyone, doesn't lie nor cheat. He doesn't bite or act violent. Unlike some of those little capricious house dogs I've come across in Tibetan homes in India and Nepal, he is not a loose cannon better locked away every time visitors arrive. He gives my family so much affection. He is always the first to greet me enthusiastically when I come home from work in the evenings. Even with regard to food he is detached which is rare for dogs bred in the West.

In Tibet I saw dogs which are completely in control of their food instinct. On Losar day for example, my cousin would feed his huge Tibetan mastiff guarding the house by placing three lumps the size of tennis balls on a plate in front of the dog: One lump is Pak made of Tsampa, one is made of rice and the third made of meat. A good dog, my cousin taught me, would first eat the Pak, then the rice and only then the meat, which is exactly what his dog did.

Most dogs bred in the West that I've seen would eat anything put before them and as much as you gave them and still beg for more. But our dog has never had this obsession with food. He only eats when hungry and only as much as he feels like. Even if you gave him sausage which is his favourite, he would walk away after a few bites. Sometimes there are entire days when he goes without food. He then only drinks a little water.  It's almost like he is fasting.

When I think about it, from a Buddhist point of view he is really trying the best he can as a dog. And in terms of managing food cravings, he is definitely more advanced than some of his human housemates. Actually his merit account looks in better shape than my own.

Sometimes I see the children whisper Om Mani Padme Hum into our dog's ear. Hopefully the Mantra of the Compassion Buddha sticks. Not only has our dog helped the children to become sturdy walkers, in a way he is also helping them to train their capacity of consideration and thoughtfulness. As much as they are bringing Dharma to the dog, the dog too in his capacity is giving back Dharma to the children. They are very gentle around the dog, never shout, let alone hit him.

It is said that Buddhas and Bodhisattvas take deliberate birth in the animal realm to benefit these creatures. They take birth in any of the Six Realms for that matter as long as it helps beings. There are also many stories about previous lives of the historical Buddha before he reached Buddhahood in which he took birth as an animal. These so-called Jataka Tales make for great goodnight stories for your children. 

One such tale particularly popular among the Tibetans is "The Four Harmonious Friends". It's frequently depicted in Tibetan art such as monastery murals. The essence of the story is to illustrate the importance of acknowledging our interdependence and the value of peaceful cooperation and friendship in order to live harmoniously.

Buddha was the bird, his two disciples Shariputra and Maudgalyana were the rabbit and the monkey respectively and the Buddha’s cousin, Ananda, was the elephant.  Thanks to their good example, peace and harmony spread among all animals in the forest. Even the humans living near-by benefitted from the positive Karma the animals created and they cherished them and made food offerings to them as a token of their gratitude.

When our dog dies I would like to request the monks to do prayers for a good rebirth. I don't know whether that's a Tibetan custom. Perhaps the monks will think it's exaggerated and extravagant to pray for a dog. But then we include sems can thams jad in our prayers and dogs clearly qualify as a part of "all sentient beings", why should we not request the monks to say prayers for a dog?

I would like to have his remains cremated and hope to take the ashes to Tibet. It would be nice to release it together with my children on the same mountain facing the monastery where my dad's ashes were spread. After all, our dog comes from a line that was originally bred in Tibet. If his final resting place can be where his ancestors came from and facing a monastery, maybe his chances for a better rebirth increase further.

As a child, I always wanted to own a dog. It wasn't possible because both my parents were working. So he is my childhood dream come true. People often say their dog is like a family member. I definitely feel related to him. When I take him for a walk, strangers occasionally stop to comment on how beautiful our dog is and then they inquire about the breed. I would jokingly say, "He is the same breed as his owner - Tibetan."

With another Sakadawa around the corner it's the perfect time to remember the kindness of animals. They are helpless while we exploit them as sloggers, kill them for our food and make fancy apparel out of their skin. They cannot protest either when we keep them for our entertainment as pets or stare at them locked up in cages in a zoo and have them do stunts for our pleasure as circus animals. But as Buddhists we are taught that all beings including animals have been our loving mothers and fathers countless times. We can try our best not to unnecessarily harm them.

Have a great, memorable Sakadawa!

Mountain Phoenix

Dog Person

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Happy Sakadawa!

Happy Sakadawa!

It’s the beginning of Sakadawa, the most important Buddhist holiday. People commemorate the birth, enlightenment and passing of Shakyamuni Buddha.

Many lay folks intensify their spiritual practice during the Tibetan Vesak by following special rules to complement their regular Dharma routine.

The most visible Sakadawa practice for the lay is to refrain from eating meat in order to minimise the accumulation of negative Karma by harming other beings. It’s commonly believed that spiritual merit accumulated during this special month multiplies manifold. If it’s meant as an incentive to step up the practice, it seems to work.

What I like best about Sakadawa is that it gives you choices. So if you think it’s overkill to observe it for the whole month, you can simply do it for a single day - ideally on Tsepa 15, the day of the full moon which falls on 27 May this year. And if you can’t live off a single meal for that one day, then at least make sure you avoid meat. - You can almost custom-build your Sakadawa, ain’t that beautiful?

But I didn’t always look at Sakadawa this way.

In fact, I didn’t pay attention at all, ever. When I accidentally learned that we were in the middle of Sakadawa, the only thoughts that would go through my head would be: If you eat animals year-in and out, what good is it to put on a saintly show for just a month or a lousy day? You seriously believe that would make a difference? Only old illiterate folks fall for that!

I just couldn’t get my head around it until many, many years later.

During Q&A following a teaching on “Atisha’s Lamp on the Path”, one person remarked that it was so incredibly difficult to generate compassion towards all beings by reminding yourself that they have been your loving mother in countless previous lives.

The Lama’s response was: “Go step by step. Do today what you think you are able to do today, and pray that one day, you will be able to do what you are unable to do now.”

I don’t know what that person made of the comment, but it struck a chord with me. Maybe because the authority to decide was left with the individual and there was zero pressure. Lamas are so cool sometimes.

I asked myself what I could do without much effort. Then suddenly I had the idea: I could go vegetarian. The least I could do right then and there, was stop harming “mother sentient beings” by eating them. If you love meat, everyone will understand why you can’t be a vegetarian. But if you’re not particularly fond of it, like myself, and still aren’t a vegetarian, now that’s unforgivable: It’s eating animals out of indifference, out of plain thoughtlessness. So what may have looked like a great act, was actually nothing, and should have suggested itself long ago.


I owe the Lama and the person who made that mother-sentient-being comment. And want to know the funny part? It’s how one thing is leading to the next. Remember the Lama said "go step by step"?¨

After having gone vegetarian for well over a year, I now I find myself thinking that I could equally easily do away with other stuff around me that’s made from killing animals, such as shoes, handbags, jackets, belts, pants. I still use whatever leather stuff I have, but I haven’t bought any new items. Now, that is a little sensation considering that I’m the stereotype female when it comes to shoes and handbags.

So never say never: I eat “Saitan” and “Quorn” now, why not wear “vegan” shoes? Right now, the only thing that's holding me back is their hair-raisingly ugly design - which means I need to work on my vanity, a true effort.

What also takes a conscious effort is to avoid becoming an over-correct, newly-born Buddhist, a “convert”, a really fussy person, who makes life for everyone around her difficult, just so hers can lived the way she thinks is correct. I don’t want to accidentally wipe out all the potential merit I’d have accumulated on the one side, by giving people a hard time on the other side.

Still, as a late bloomer, I feel compelled to catch up. So for once, I’ve been anticipating Sakadawa as an opportunity to generate some revenue for my merit account. Now is supposedly the best time to accumulate it, and it doesn’t even cost me a real effort. Don’t I love Buddhism?

Happy Sakadawa!
Mountain Phoenix

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