It’s been brought to my attention that chickens aren’t happy. Not most of them. I knew this, but I kept buying those eggs anyway. I keep buying their eggs. I ignore their suffering out of convenience.
Thich Nhat Hahn says the factory farm chickens are angry. When you eat their eggs, you are consuming that anger. I’ve read about forty five seconds of his book "Anger," and this was not the news I wanted to hear. But I know that he’s correct.
Thich Nhat Hahn uses the word “very” with casual abandon, but I trust him completely as a human. I am supposed to buy the happy eggs. I am better off buying eggs laid by chickens who are free to roam around. I am supposed to spend more and eat more slowly.
I have a lot of learning to do. I have changes to make. I have better eggs to buy when I begin to bother to start caring about my relationship with chickens.
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