Imaginary companions

301:

The struggle to stand firm in the face of temptation isn’t merely one of disciplined decision-making but in finding a reason to be disciplined. For me, this reasoning is based upon the prioritising of issues in my own mind, where I sort out what is the most urgent thing needing my attention ... concerning the major issues of the day. I’m for ever asking myself “What am I going to do about it?”
Animal Rights figures large. Is it my own claustrophobia or my empathy with innocent little creatures that leads me to want to defend imprisoned animals? Whatever it is, it’s very clear and strong and urgent, leading me to boycott anything to do with cruelty to animals. If I’m going to do anything, I want to be effective and I don’t want to fail at it, so it’s a toss-up between making a big gesture (going vegan) and going in so hard that I risk not being able to continue with it.
When I ‘went vegan’, perhaps I feared it would inevitably drive me crazy, craving all these ‘prohibited’ things and not allowing myself any of them.
People often ask me if I’m “allowed to eat” certain things and I always say, “I can eat what I like. It’s my own choice. There’s no authority watching over me”. I’m sure other vegans get asked that a lot too. But to be able to say that you’re ‘a vegan’ you have to actually be it and stay it.
I know that I stay vegan by tapping into my sense of purpose and vision of a future in harmony with animals. But I stay vegan for other reasons. Now, this might sound a bit weird but it’s the best I can come up with. I like to think I have the ‘little people’ living on my shoulders … whispering in my ear … suggesting great possibilities and telling me things I can do. Now that I’m ‘clean’ (i.e. vegan), I can afford to hear them. I can use my imagination. And I know others can’t, not in the same way, if only because that can’t afford to hear ... most of them being omnivores or worse. They can’t go around condemning an abusive world because they’re condoning it. They’re caught up in it. They haven’t contemplated going vegan. They still think it’s absurd. They couldn’t even allow ‘such absurdity’ to enter their heads. They opt to stay where they’ve always been.
These omnivores love their animal products and tell anyone they know who is vegan “You don’t know what you’re missing”. But we know they can’t hear the ‘little people’ (and would think me quite mad if I were to mention them).
For me, it would be these ‘little people’ who do a lot of the difficult work for me - they suggest I take notice of things I could easily have missed. They alert my conscience when I’m in danger of doing something I don’t need to. I imagine ‘the little people’ as coming from another world, directly accessible through my conscience. Once my conscience is fired up it’s a bit like tuning into a radio station - I find ‘them’ and use ‘them’ and listen to ‘them’.
Whether you acknowledge such things or not, you’d probably agree that the whole matter of ‘the unknown’ interests most people. We’re all attracted to the unknown, ‘the possible-though-seemingly-improbable’. There’s nothing I like better than peering into the unknowable future, and in preparation projecting anything which might benefit our children’s’ generation and their welfare. The unknowable tempts me away from conforming to convention. The rationale here is, I suppose, that since conventional ways have gotten us into today’s mess, the opposite may well get us out of it.
Imagine this if you will: the world is dying from unimaginativeness. So, I like to cultivate imagination. Un-imaginative the ‘little people’ are not, indeed I think they embody imagination and have an overwhelming impulse to guide us by way of it. But they’re rough teachers, their guidance is full of fun and mischief, tripping me up when I get above myself, pushing me beyond my comfort zone, working for my best interests but they’re ever-ready to do ‘mischief’ if I ever drop my guard. I imagine them as elders, tough in order to keep standards high.
As I walk barefoot along a safe, sandy beach feeling rather self-important, I stub my toe on a rock. I’m angry. I’m cursing the bastards who made me do it ... but it’s only the ‘little people’, squatting on my shoulder, reminding me, sometimes painfully, not to get carried away with thoughts of self importance.
Imagining them into existence is similar to imagining ideas into reality. Learning from the ‘little people’ is like watching ideas grow until they’re independent of imagination.
Stubbing my toe on a rock I see the need for change, for growth in myself. Change needs exhilarating bursts of fresh energy. If change is too slow it will whimper along, never building up enough momentum, always held back by mistake after mistake. If I relax too often I’ll be constantly clobbered by the ‘little people’. They’ll scream with mischievous delight whenever I’m being idle or showing no gratitude for what’s on offer. When I’m not looking they’ll lay a rock in front of me, to stub my toe on.