July 27, 2025
“God, my lower back is killing me. I’m taking a ton of pain killers, which is making me drowsy, plus I’m constipated because the pain meds are interfering with my other prescriptions and the neighbor mowed his lawn at 7:30 last night! What kind of lunatic mows the lawn at that time?”
If we think now would be the moment to interject with, “Have you tried going to the chiropractor?”, we will be shut down like an on-campus keg party: “Pshh, I don’t let people mess with my spine, ever. Especially not some quack!” might be a friendlier version of the types of responses we’d receive to our ill-mannered line of questioning. And to think we almost said, “Have you tried going to a therapist?”.
Renunciation Nation
First of all, when we’re put in front of the proper professionals, therapy is extremely helpful, as is chiropractic care. Secondly, people who complain incessantly are seldom looking for advice, for if they were they might say something like, “So what would you do if you were in my situation?”. These types of people also seem to engage often in non-negotiable rhetoric.
Stating things such as “oh, I won’t touch guacamole” or “I don’t do rituals” (see our essay, Ritualistic) seems harmless enough, maybe even playful once in a while; until we start thinking about the naysayers we know: how often they do it and just how steadily discontent they seem to be. I’m starting to realize that renunciation is the enemy of progress and growth; and the stronger the conviction, the more hollow its associated reasoning seems to become.
When I say, “I don’t consume animal products”, I’m simply stating that right now, in the present moment (which is hopefully where we’re all at least trying to exist), eating meat, dairy, etc. is not for me. Although this has been the case for nearly 10 years and I can’t see myself ever going back to consuming these, I refrain from the absolute: that is, stating that I will never abandon this plant-based lifestyle (regardless of how good it feels). Here’s why:
1) Nobody really knows what the future holds and it would be arrogant and brash to proclaim otherwise, even when it comes to our own future decisions;
2) We’re all human– we all make mistakes and accidents happen, so it’s typically best not to set ourselves up for disappointment and into an inadvertent phony show;
3) “Never” is an intrinsically self-limiting concept, which works against something that I’m constantly striving towards as a person every day, which is to be more open;
4) It comes from a place of fear, as if we’re trying to chop off the problem before it even starts (with the door firmly closed, we feel like we can head off any intrusive attempts to change our minds);
5) It fosters less intuition, greater opposition and a higher probability and intensity of condemnation and conflict.
Batter Up!
If we’re a devoted democrat or a republican, there is a pretty good chance that we won’t be voting for the other party any time soon; but if we’re constantly reminding ourselves, our friends, our colleagues and relatives of this, our identity begins shifting toward shallow waters, where everything is black and white/red or blue, where everyone can read the letters on our bumper sticker and that’s that.
At this point, our purpose would seem to be controlled by the governing body that supports it (this includes extrapolitical forces). This is not to say that we should avoid standing for what we believe in, as it is crucial to hold values and to be a part of a community that shares those values.
Yet, when we join a group or adopt an idea, we tend to habitually build a case against the “other team”– which is anything that looks like the opposite of our thing; and it all starts to feel sort of like a little league game, sans the oversized, polyester garbs and ever-pungent Big League Chew.
We take this game public and before long, we’re cultivating something to defend, while generating absolute dissension and disdain for any converse ideological systems that intersect that which we’ve adopted. Instead of competing in pinstriped pajamas, we could just forfeit or go swimming,
Oh, Bear
We often figure out what is good for us by experiencing and eliminating what we consider bad. But this shouldn’t be a way of stamping a seal of disapproval on every experience, for this leads to needless opposition; a dichotomy that is turning the world upside-down and tearing it apart.
The more we lean into our thing, the less we inevitably will learn about its counterpart. Such a divisive lack of knowledge creates inner fear toward what the unknown ‘other’ is capable of; an anxiety which masquerades as a survivalist instinct, but in actuality, is nothing more than a superficial prophecy that leads us right to the doorstep of disappointment, as we scramble around to decide who’s fault it is.
Absolute statements and beliefs, as well as renunciation, use hyperbole to emphasize their significance, so that everyone, including ourselves, can hear just how seriously disappointed we are about something. But when we establish these truths verbally or socially, we tend to resemble, not the embodiment of a prophet or a martyr, but that of a buffoonish cartoon bear who can’t stop getting his hand stuck in the honey jar. Never say never, Pooh.
If we attempt snow-skiing for the first time and it’s a terrible experience, were we simply looking to have a terrible experience before it even started? Hey, if we curse a mountain enough, it just might curse us back. And afterwards, some of us might even mentally backlog these situations so that we can bring them up in mixed company; this way, at least we get to tell an off-putting story about how we got mistreated in Telluride last winter– hey look, a cartoon bear who will “never go skiing again”.
Even the age old phrase, “Never give up”, is absurd advice. Sure, it’s great when we’re trying to complete a project or a marathon; but philosophically speaking, this would have to include never giving up cigarettes or never quitting a job that we hate or even never failing to push pessimistic anecdotes or misguided opinions on other people. Sometimes it’s best to simply let go of something and relinquish any type of attachment to it.
Do You Speak Pirate?
The Minimalists have an entire podcast episode dedicated to the idea of renouncing things. One would think that renunciation is key to “living more with less”; but this is actually backwards, because: a) Minimalism is the amplification of spaciousness, which allows us to move past the clutter of things, so that we can focus on what’s truly important, the big picture; and, b) As they maintain and I concur, by vehemently rejecting things, we allow them to control us and to shape our identities. Sometimes this works and we’re shaped in positive ways, but oftentimes we become bitter or judgemental toward others who don’t see it our way.
For the record, I can be a staunch advocate for a healthy, plant-based lifestyle, but that is not who I am. And while I’d like to have all the innocent animals released and freed from imminent slaughter and suffering, the sad (to me) reality is, this is just a fantasy. We all have a voice and I’m using mine, not to condemn carnivores, but to promote all types of wellness and connect with people through this leitmotif.
I’ve reconciled that the vast majority of the population will eat a lot of things I may shake my head at, but I also acknowledge the fact that personal wellness starts in between the ears; and that we’re much better off when we exert our mental energy assembling questions rather than statements; seeking the positive, as opposed to the negative; and cultivating wisdom instead of opposition.
A certain level of fear is necessary when we plunge into open water or scale up the side of a mountain; this is because we have to learn how to respect it, before we can master it. If we go out of our way to avoid these situations or people by way of renouncing them, not only are we abandoning any and all respect, we’re stealing from our own vault of joy, and nobody is looking, because nobody really cares– they have their own emotional economy to manage.
The ocean is so vast and majestic, but if we’re constantly focused on the things dwelling in it that could bite, sting, or swallow us, then its beauty will never be discovered or experienced and it will only appear to us as an endless bucket of watery hell. Who knew that renouncing something could also have us talking like a pirate?
The next time we find ourselves sitting across from a naysaying pirate, maybe we can view it as a reminder of how we sound when we pull into the renunciation station: “Yarrr, ye disgust me with yer point of view. And me back is killing me, so me apothecary give me some pill tablets, and, well, constipation be a feisty mistress!” Aye, aye, Captain. Have ye tried meditation?