Too often, conversations about diet get short-circuited by the certainty and intolerance characteristic of fundamentalism.
The greens and meat are made of all these things, all these places, and more. And so, too, are we, as we ingest them.
Suppose you knew someone who was asked to write an encyclopedia entry.
I once knew a man who had a small horizontal sign above his front door frame, up against the ceiling. If you looked up, you saw it just before you stepped outside: “You never know.” The more time I spend in the woods, the more sense the motto makes.
What is so compelling about the idea of life lasting until an organism gives up the ghost of its own accord?
The second part of the question was more focused: “Now, when you see deer, do you see meat on the hoof?”
Emotionally speaking, what are the differences between hunting wild animals and slaughtering domestic ones?