Blue Notes #20: Because It's Hard
What do veganism, sobriety, and marriage have in common?
I lived in Chicago for seven years. I really liked it, most of the time.
But there was one thing I hated about it—and that thing was a big reason why I left.
That thing was…insecurity.
It was as though the city couldn’t let a day go by without talking about how much better it was than other cities, lest its citizens accidentally forget, and frantically flee in droves to the nearest coast.
The atmosphere of defensiveness made it hard for me to appreciate the fullness of its flawed beauty.
Chicago had a particular chip on its shoulder about New York, which seemed so odd and misplaced. Long before I lived in NYC, I suspected that the rivalry was entirely in Chicago’s head. Now that I live here, I know that for a fact.
Besides maybe LA, New York’s relationship to every other city is something to the effect of, “Oh yeah, that place! I spent a nice weekend there once!” And then they go back to cursing a delayed subway.
In contrast to the panicky self-consciousness of Chicago, I really appreciate the laid-back confidence of New York.
It’s just over here existing, minding its business—self-loathing, if anything. It’s relaxing to live in a place that isn’t always obsessing over its ranking and perception.
There’s a sense of safety in getting frustrated with it; nobody’s going to shout BUT IT’S THE GREATEST CITY IN THE WORLD, RIGHT? unless I’m in an active conversation with a tourist t-shirt.
I like my cities like I like my people: not afraid to see themselves clearly, warts and all. That trait speaks to the assurance of “nothing to prove.”
Lately, I’ve found myself increasingly interested in a couple lifestyles: namely, veganism and sober-curiosity.
Just typing those out made me literally cringe.
They are both such loaded terms, full of implications that I don’t resonate with, and don’t want on my person.
I’m sure you can think of some of the implications yourself, but the one that gives me the most pause is exactly what pushed me out of Chicago: defensiveness.
Obviously, this defensiveness comes from the ceaseless barrage of people projecting their own insecurities and triggers on to vegans and sober folks:
Don’t you miss burgers!? How can you possibly eat Mexican food without a margarita!? You know that you need protein, right?!! You know that red wine is good for your heart, right?!
But I find it disarming, and much more convincing when people committed to not-the-mainstream lifestyles don’t immediately come back with:
I’m actually having MORE fun without booze!
I can eat ANYTHING I WANT as a vegan!
Life is JUST as decadent without wine!
I’m not missing out on ANYTHING by being vegan!
I truly love Chicago, but it calls to mind conversations about how “the lake is our ocean” when I’m looking at it like….But it’s a lake?
Or, more hilariously, it reminds me of my church youth group desperate to show how wacky and wild it is to be a Christian by going roller skating or whatever, and even as a teenager who was terrified of people, I knew that actual parties had to be way more fun.
The lake is not an ocean—which is fine!
Roller skating with your church group isn’t crazy—which is fine!
And eating vegan and cutting back on drinking really suck sometimes—which is also fine!
I just want to be told the truth.
I can do a lot with the truth! I can see the bigness of life decisions in all their colorful shades and different angles with the truth.
So, whether or not it resonates, here is my truth:
Eating vegan can be really hard for me. Not all the time, but a lot of the time.
Yes, it’s a joy to munch my way through plants and explore the textures and flavors of a living world.
But roasted cauliflower doesn’t taste just like steak. Rural roadside creameries don’t sell an oat milk version of that particular small-town vanilla ice cream, generously scooped into a Dixie paper bowl where it drips down the sides of arms onto overgrown grass and melts into a bright white pool of melted summer-flavored heaven. The idea of a seitan meatball is enough to send me straight to the nearest red-sauce Italian joint and demand veal.
Ain’t nothing like the real thing, baby. And that’s hard.
So why do it? Nobody’s making me.
Well, in fact, because it’s hard.
Because there is no substitute.
It is a consistent, 3-meal-a-day sacrifice, all because I really believe in it. I have to constantly choose to uphold my morals in the face of primal urge.
It sort of feels like a non-stop volunteer project working toward something I care a lot about. Almost as though it should be tough—like chewing on the gristle of my values, so to speak.
Not everything worth doing in life should be hard, of course. I adore the philosophies of pleasure activism, a soft life, and resistance toward the narrative of certain experiences being inherently difficult.
After years of assuming “Relationships are hard,” I’ve learned that a relationship can be really easy. I’ve been unraveling a deeply-rooted belief that selflessness = a purposeful life. Going on medication has removed any residue of assumption that writers must be tortured. And I feel strongly that you don’t have to go outside your comfort zone to find magic.
I’m all for easeful living!
But I acknowledge my own part in the current comfort crisis—how my own strategic elimination of difficulty has contributed to my slipping in and out of integrity, at my own convenience.
When it comes to slippage, it can be helpful to follow a rule.
While I engage with any creation story as imaginative myth and not history lesson, this Bible verse has always stuck in my head as a critical truth:
“God said…let man have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the sky, and over the livestock, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that crawls on the earth.”
This verse has given whole generations and cultures the excuse to treat earth like a punching bag, and it has also awakened people to greater stewardship and reverence for the planet.
‘Dominion’ is the name of a horrifying documentary exposing how wrongly we have interpreted this word (and if you wonder why anyone in their right mind would ever give up meat and dairy, the trailer alone does a solid job of explaining).
By continually asking myself, “What do I do with the responsibility of dominion?” I keep myself honest, especially when it’s hard.
Hey, veganism might be a total breeze for many people, and that’s wonderful news!
But the fact that it’s hard for me makes me feel even more aware of my own conviction in the face of a society that makes it way too convenient to slippery-slide right out of aligned action.
See also: Sober-curiosity.
See also: Marriage.
Let’s discuss this. First, sober-curiosity.