Ignorant Bliss
People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals - PETA
December 04, 2006
By Kathy Freston
Well, the holiday shopping season has arrived, and I must admit I have been successfully lured into the more materialistic side of my psyche by the flashy ads and layouts in all the mags. As I make my way through the stores, tear sheets in hand, I begin to feel the old familiar excitement as I scout out my new wardrobe for the season. The luscious textures and colors and designs are like sirens calling me to purchase them so that I might look better and feel better than I ever thought possible. The new shades of lipstick, too, are like promises of a prettier, younger face; if I buy the new palette, might I more resemble the model wearing it? Oh, were it so. Nevertheless, I am compelled to give it a try.
I’m well into a fit of consumer frenzy that beats any sugar high I’ve ever indulged, and I begin to lose myself on the wild ride that a beautiful day in Beverly Hills invariably brings me. Oh, the palpitating pulse, the surge of newfound energy, the absolute bliss of getting new stuff. My credit card is vibrating in my wallet, and all I want to do is shop ’til I drop.
But then, a glitch in my revelry: I notice that the sweater I’ve flipped for—which goes perfectly with the jeans and pencil skirt and cuffed trousers—has a small bit of fur around the collar. Well … maybe it’s just a teeny little bit of fur, I reason to myself, and maybe fur is not such a bad thing, despite my avowing never to buy it. I really, really want this centerpiece of my fall wardrobe. If I don’t get it, every outfit suddenly seems less sparkly and fabulous and perfect. And besides, if fur is to be avoided, isn’t leather just as bad? I mean, can’t I just not think about where it comes from? It’s beginning to feel like a slippery slope, and my buzz is killed by the vision of a little fox being skinned so that I can look chic at a few dinner parties. Damn—this is what happens when you start thinking too much!
And if I really start questioning every little thing, well, there will be nothing left to buy, right? What kinds of chemicals went into that eye shadow, and how did the manufacturers test it for my sensitive skin? Even the diamonds that I lust after—how are they mined, and is the process an ethical one? If my mighty fine SUV is eating up a lot of fuel, am I contributing to the addiction that holds our country hostage to a regime of Middle Eastern oil barons? Oh, the tangled web we weave ….
I have to take a deep breath now; there are decisions to be made. In my own little world, in my own little arena, I can either choose to buy whatever pleases me without thinking of how it got to market, or I can choose to buy only the items that hurt no one (as far as I can tell). I have always thought of myself as a compassionate person, sensitive of the people and animals around me. But what if the cruelty happened outside the walls of my immediate sphere of knowledge? If I don’t deal the blow and don’t see the suffering, am I still a party to a practice that feels wrong to me if I just buy the end product?
I’m afraid so.
I pet the little pelt of fur on the collar of the not-so-fabulous-anymore sweater and put it back on the shelf. I feel sorry for the little fella who met his end so someone could impress Mr. and Mrs. Jones. But that someone will not be me. The frenzy has fizzled. I’ve envisioned the poor little fox’s painful end, and I just can’t be part of the process that dealt him his fate. If I am to be a compassionate person, I have to be a compassionate consumer because how I spend my money is an expression of the ideals I’ve worked hard to understand and embody. So, that means that I won’t eat meat (veal especially), and I won’t buy fur or leather, and will only use makeup that has not been tested on animals. And I will look into where the diamonds came from, and I will only drive a hybrid. I know it sounds boring and rigid, but what can I do? I’ve asked myself the questions, and the answers are clear: Ignorance is bliss, but it ain’t the way of enlightenment. I know there is a long list of what I should or shouldn’t do, and I will find my way through it. In the meantime, thank God, I have found some goodies that gave me just as much pleasure, and I can sleep at night too!
Kathy Freston is the author of Expect a Miracle: 7 Spiritual Steps to Finding the Right Relationship and The One: Finding Soul Mate Love and Making it Last. She is a member and supporter of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) whose work has been featured in magazines and on television.
Well, the holiday shopping season has arrived, and I must admit I have been successfully lured into the more materialistic side of my psyche by the flashy ads and layouts in all the mags. As I make my way through the stores, tear sheets in hand, I begin to feel the old familiar excitement as I scout out my new wardrobe for the season. The luscious textures and colors and designs are like sirens calling me to purchase them so that I might look better and feel better than I ever thought possible. The new shades of lipstick, too, are like promises of a prettier, younger face; if I buy the new palette, might I more resemble the model wearing it? Oh, were it so. Nevertheless, I am compelled to give it a try.
I’m well into a fit of consumer frenzy that beats any sugar high I’ve ever indulged, and I begin to lose myself on the wild ride that a beautiful day in Beverly Hills invariably brings me. Oh, the palpitating pulse, the surge of newfound energy, the absolute bliss of getting new stuff. My credit card is vibrating in my wallet, and all I want to do is shop ’til I drop.
But then, a glitch in my revelry: I notice that the sweater I’ve flipped for—which goes perfectly with the jeans and pencil skirt and cuffed trousers—has a small bit of fur around the collar. Well … maybe it’s just a teeny little bit of fur, I reason to myself, and maybe fur is not such a bad thing, despite my avowing never to buy it. I really, really want this centerpiece of my fall wardrobe. If I don’t get it, every outfit suddenly seems less sparkly and fabulous and perfect. And besides, if fur is to be avoided, isn’t leather just as bad? I mean, can’t I just not think about where it comes from? It’s beginning to feel like a slippery slope, and my buzz is killed by the vision of a little fox being skinned so that I can look chic at a few dinner parties. Damn—this is what happens when you start thinking too much!
And if I really start questioning every little thing, well, there will be nothing left to buy, right? What kinds of chemicals went into that eye shadow, and how did the manufacturers test it for my sensitive skin? Even the diamonds that I lust after—how are they mined, and is the process an ethical one? If my mighty fine SUV is eating up a lot of fuel, am I contributing to the addiction that holds our country hostage to a regime of Middle Eastern oil barons? Oh, the tangled web we weave ….
I have to take a deep breath now; there are decisions to be made. In my own little world, in my own little arena, I can either choose to buy whatever pleases me without thinking of how it got to market, or I can choose to buy only the items that hurt no one (as far as I can tell). I have always thought of myself as a compassionate person, sensitive of the people and animals around me. But what if the cruelty happened outside the walls of my immediate sphere of knowledge? If I don’t deal the blow and don’t see the suffering, am I still a party to a practice that feels wrong to me if I just buy the end product?
I’m afraid so.
I pet the little pelt of fur on the collar of the not-so-fabulous-anymore sweater and put it back on the shelf. I feel sorry for the little fella who met his end so someone could impress Mr. and Mrs. Jones. But that someone will not be me. The frenzy has fizzled. I’ve envisioned the poor little fox’s painful end, and I just can’t be part of the process that dealt him his fate. If I am to be a compassionate person, I have to be a compassionate consumer because how I spend my money is an expression of the ideals I’ve worked hard to understand and embody. So, that means that I won’t eat meat (veal especially), and I won’t buy fur or leather, and will only use makeup that has not been tested on animals. And I will look into where the diamonds came from, and I will only drive a hybrid. I know it sounds boring and rigid, but what can I do? I’ve asked myself the questions, and the answers are clear: Ignorance is bliss, but it ain’t the way of enlightenment. I know there is a long list of what I should or shouldn’t do, and I will find my way through it. In the meantime, thank God, I have found some goodies that gave me just as much pleasure, and I can sleep at night too!
Kathy Freston is the author of Expect a Miracle: 7 Spiritual Steps to Finding the Right Relationship and The One: Finding Soul Mate Love and Making it Last. She is a member and supporter of People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) whose work has been featured in magazines and on television.
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