A funny thing happens when you grow your own food (at least part of the year like we have to, not many plants live in the snow) and you watch your own chickens grow from little chicklings .. it is almost imperceptible for me but I have grown to feel much more personally identified with my food.
When I take a bite of meat at lunch at work I get a flash of factory farmed cows, pigs, chickens. I mourn the degradation of life, wasted by it’s use in high throughput food.
Mind you, I am really not the squeamish type. Its not the death but its the life that I am thinking about when I get that flash, when my heart burns with sadness.
I don’t think I am developing an incipient form of a food disorder, overly sensitive about food, just to feel and be precious.
