Maintaining the inanimate for safety

Many of our most treasured objects today are complex structures. Machines. And something special is involved in ‘owning’ one (or even many). Owning something involves a principle of ‘care’ - we are automatically involved as soon as we adopt something. We ‘care’ for our cat, care for our car. Car maintenance, aircraft maintenance, teeth maintenance, each highlight the risk of not attending to them - like the failure to maintain an aircraft ending in catastrophe. But all this caring, maintaining, cleaning, etc. takes time and effort. Each application of care costs us something. The insurance industry encourages us to be indecisive, it profit from our wobbling between ‘just-in-case’ & ‘it may never happen’. They offer us two choices: either we spend money and feel safe or we neglect safety and save our money. That’s a nice dichotomy, scaring us into parting with our ‘hard-earned’ cash. And so we enter each day, worrying and frowning, carrying a list of things to do, things to be maintained. ‘Overwhelmed’ is probably the best word to describe our collective groan.
We don’t know how to prioritise - a little care here, an insurance policy there … safety, safety, safety but it’s never ending. We spend our life searching for the best insurance. Which brings us to veganism. To some vegans it’s an insurance policy. The food almost guarantees body health (because it’s such a safe & healthy diet). Some vegans are extremely health conscious. They respect their bodies as temples.
Now I don’t follow not the most intelligent vegan diet, but it serves me well enough, physically. It ensures a clear conscience (cruelty-free foods); it’s cheaper to eat this way; it’s less environmentally damaging; it builds (a bit) better-disciplined character and, most importantly, it acts as a rock. It makes me feel safe.