I didn’t intend to stop eating meat. I don’t call myself a vegetarian. And yet I find myself increasingly unwilling to eat meat. For dinner lately, I’ve been enjoying homemade rice and lentils (with fennel seeds, cracked pepper and liberal sprinklings of turmeric), or homemade seitan masala (well, the masala wasn’t homemade, but I did cook it up with the seitan) or that spinach with cheese dish that I forget the name of that I get from Amy’s Organics. When it comes time to decide what I will nourish myself with, more and more, I find myself choosing the non-meat options. Even when we order in sushi, I find myself eating only the rice, or even ordering Udon in vegetable broth instead.
It’s not that I don’t like meat. It’s not that I am not tempted by it, at least on some level, when I smell the steak I’m grilling for my kids. But when it comes down to it, I find myself not wanting to put it into my digestive system because I find myself imagining how long it’s going to be stuck there, how I’m going to feel “off” tomorrow and not be quite sure why, vaguely blaming the meat, but not really certain of it.
My mom expressed concern recently that perhaps I am using my Ashtanga to burn calories, that it’s just another form of eating disorder. But really, it’s the other way around. I eat for the purpose of supporting my yoga practice.
Right now, at least, that’s the way it is. But I have no rules in mind. I think that’s why I’m liking the way I’m eating. No rules. Just mindful of cause and effect.