It is simply a personal journal entry that I am choosing to publish publicly with a date and timestamp.
I have learned that some spiritual impressions only become meaningful in hindsight. For that reason, I wish to preserve today's experience exactly as it occurred, without altering it later.
Todays experience on 18.07.2026
One lesson I have been learning over the past few years is that not every spiritual experience is meant to be understood immediately.
Sometimes, what appears to be an ordinary coincidence only reveals its significance in hindsight.
For that reason, I have developed the habit of documenting certain experiences before I know how, or even whether, they will unfold. Doing so helps me remain honest with myself. It prevents me from reshaping memories after the fact and allows me to look back with greater objectivity.
Today, on 18 July 2026, I experienced something that felt significant enough to record.
Earlier today, I received two separate messages from Brother Paul Aoge, a kind-hearted Christian psychic and spiritual teacher whose videos occasionally find their way to me at remarkably meaningful moments in my life.
What has always stood out to me about Brother Paul is that his messages are generally centered on faith, Divine protection, and trusting God rather than wishing harm upon anyone. Many of his teachings remind people that those who place their trust in God need not live in fear of those who seek to harm them.
Today, however, two different messages reached me from him.
One carried the words:
"They'll die in Seven 7 days."
The message spoke about individuals who had allegedly engaged in dark spiritual practices against one of God's protected children, explaining that the destructive intentions they had directed toward others had ultimately rebounded upon themselves.
Shortly afterwards, another message from the same source appeared before me. Published approximately twenty-three hours earlier, it bore a similar theme:
"They are about to die... Signs to confirm Are...."
The messages contained strong warnings about the consequences faced by those who persist in causing harm to others
Receiving two messages with such closely related themes on the same day immediately caught my attention.
I do not know whether these messages relate to me in any way.
I do not know whether they should be understood literally, symbolically, psychologically, or perhaps not at all.
Nor do I claim to know the future.
I simply know that these messages reached me during a period in which I have personally felt as though I have been passing through an intense season of spiritual warfare.
Over recent weeks, I have sensed what I can only describe as unusually heavy and dark spiritual energies directed not only toward me but also toward those I love. Throughout this period, however, I have continued to place my faith in Divine protection and have repeatedly experienced an inner conviction that whatever was attempting to cause harm would ultimately be unable to overcome God's grace.
Whether that conviction arose from prayer, intuition, Divine guidance, or simply the calming influence of faith, I cannot say with certainty.
What I do know is that today's two messages felt unusually timely and resonated deeply with our circumstances and inspired me to create a timestamped record.
It is to cultivate intellectual honesty by recording experiences before outcomes are known rather than only interpreting them after the fact.
For that reason alone, I have chosen to record this experience exactly as it occurred.
If, over the coming days, events unfold that I genuinely believe correspond with these impressions, I will write a follow-up reflection and link it back to this post.
If nothing unsual happens, then this too becomes part of my learning.
Either outcome is valuable.
Because my purpose is not to prove anyone right or wrong.
It is to cultivate honesty by recording spiritual impressions before outcomes are known rather than only interpreting them afterwards.
Over the years, I have personally experienced many moments that I can only describe as extraordinary synchronicities, events that seemed too precisely timed to be dismissed easily, yet too deeply personal to present as proof to others.
These experiences have gradually taught me that faith is not about demanding certainty.
It is about remaining open while also remaining discerning.
Every spiritual experience deserves humility.
Every intuition deserves careful reflection.
And every apparent sign deserves to be held with both hope and wisdom.
I share this post, therefore, not as a prophecy.
Nor as evidence that anyone should accept my beliefs.
Rather, I share it as a dated or timestamped record of a deeply personal spiritual experience.
My deeper hope is not that anyone believes Brother Paul Aoge because I do.
Nor do I ask anyone to accept my interpretation.
Rather, I hope this encourages people to cultivate a sincere relationship with their own inner wisdom, conscience, intuition, and spiritual life.
Whether we call it prayer, Divine guidance, intuition, higher consciousness, or the whisper of the soul, I believe every person has the capacity to become more attentive to the subtle ways in which life sometimes communicates.
Also how others cultivate their own relationship with the Divine, is a very personal choice based on one's individuality and level of spiritual progress, temperament and comfort levels. Everyone is on their own journey and one cookie cutter method may not be optimum for every soul.
Whether one calls it God, the Holy Spirit, one's Higher Self, intuition, conscience, or the quiet whisper of the soul, I believe every human being possesses the capacity to become more attentive to the subtle ways in which life sometimes speaks.
Remain open.
Remain discerning.
Remain humble.
Remain rooted in love rather than fear.
And above all, never stop seeking Truth and the Divine.
One of the greatest gifts a writer can receive is not unquestioning agreement but thoughtful questions.
After reading my recent reflections on Mikey, selective compassion, consciousness, and our relationship with other sentient beings, one of my well-wishers sent me a detailed and respectful message.
Rather than dismissing my thoughts, she engaged with them.
She agreed with certain aspects, disagreed with others, and asked practical questions.
Some questions challenge our conclusions. Others refine them. Her thoughtful questions did both for me. In several places they even prompted me to look more deeply into my own assumptions, my own actions and for that I remain genuinely and ever grateful. π
Although I would have loved to reply immediately, I felt these questions deserved more than a hurried response. They truly invited me to pause, reflect, research further where necessary, and examine whether my own thinking needed refinement. Only after that process did I feel ready to respond.
As I reflected upon her message, I realized that many readers might share similar questions. Answering her privately would have remained a conversation between two people. Answering publicly, while preserving her anonymity, will answer similar questions that many others may have in future as well.
I therefore share this dialogue with immense heartfelt gratitude and humility.
Not because I believe I possess all the answers.
But because sincere questions deserve sincere reflection and conscious action.
Question 1
Justice for Mikey
"Why was Mikey not legally adopted or registered? Why did people grieve after his death instead of protecting him while he was alive?"
This is one of the most important questions raised.
I completely agree.
One reason Mikey's story affected me so deeply was because it made me wonder whether, as a society, we could have done more to protect him before tragedy struck.
Compassion cannot remain merely emotional.
Compassion must also become action.
His death reminded me that our legal systems and our communities need to become more proactive in protecting vulnerable beings before irreversible harm occurs.
Justice should not begin only after tragedy.
In fact, her question had an unexpected effect on me.
We have two affectionate community dogs living within our residential society. Rather than merely reflecting on Mikey's tragic story, I found myself asking a new question:
"What can I do today for the animals who are still alive?"
That simple shift in perspective changed something within me.
While reflecting upon this question, I began researching practical ways to improve their well-being and safety. I learnt about a tick-control powder for dogs, ordered it, and was able to use it on one of them (the other was not willing to cooperate!). I also purchased reflective collars so that they would be more visible to motorists at night, hoping this small step might reduce the risk of road accidents.
I am now exploring how community dogs can receive greater legal protection, what legal provisions already exist for their welfare and what role our housing society can play in that process. I still have much to learn, but at least the journey has begun.
Looking back, I realize that before her questions, my thoughts were largely focused on grieving Mikey's brutal and heartbreaking death.
Her question gently redirected my attention toward something equally important:
How can we help prevent another Mikey?
For that shift, from shock and grief to constructive action for the two community dogs in my building, I remain sincerely grateful to her.
Question 2
"Humans Have Always Eaten Meat!"
My well-wisher reminded me that human beings have historically consumed meat and that it provides rich nutrition.
I completely acknowledge this.
Animal foods provide valuable nutrients, and throughout history many societies such as the Inuit (igloo) and similar other communities have depended upon them because alternatives were unavailable.
My reflections were never intended to deny nutritional science.
They simply invite another question.
When modern circumstances provide many of us with alternatives... Do ethical questions also deserve consideration?
Nutrition answers one question.
Ethics asks another.
Science tells us what we can eat.
Ethics invites us to ask what we ought to do when multiple healthy choices and options are available to us.
These are two different conversations.
Both deserve respect.
Question 3
"But What About Protein?"
Protein is often raised as one of the strongest arguments in favour of eating meat.
Yet history and the modern world both provide numerous examples of humans who have achieved extraordinary strength, remarkable endurance including athletic excellence while following predominantly vegetarian or plant-based diets.
Traditional Indian pehalwaans, Shaolin monks, and contemporary athletes such as Carl Lewis, Lewis Hamilton, Patrik Baboumian, Scott Jurek, and Nimai Delgado remind us that exceptional feats and physical performance is possible without meat, although nutritional needs differ between individuals and every diet should be thoughtfully planned.
Many major nutrition organizations now recognize that well-planned vegetarian and vegan diets can support healthy living for many people, while also acknowledging that nutritional needs vary between individuals.
These examples are not presented to suggest that everyone should adopt the same diet, nor do they deny the importance of good nutrition. Rather, they demonstrate that the ethical discussion cannot be settled solely by appealing to protein or physical strength.
My reflection is simply this: if, for many people, good nutrition can be achieved through more than one approach, does it then become meaningful to ask what ethical responsibilities accompany that freedom of choice?
Does it invite us to reflect upon the suffering, the lives, and ultimately the deaths endured by the sentient beings who become food on our plates.
Perhaps the question is no longer simply, "Can this diet nourish me?"
Perhaps it also becomes, "What does this choice of mine ask of another conscious being who seeks to live, avoid suffering, and remain with those it knows, just as I would?"
When nutrition can be met through more than one approach, nutrition tells us what is possible. Ethics invites us to ask which path best reflects our own conscience.
Question 4
The Food Chain
Nature certainly has a food chain.
Lions hunt.
Eagles hunt.
Snakes hunt.
Because they must.
They do not cultivate crops.
They do not study nutrition.
They do not possess supermarkets.
Human beings, however, possess something unique.
Choice.
Agriculture.
Technology.
Nutritional science.
Moral reasoning.
The ability to survive in multiple ways.
Perhaps our capacity to choose and technical prowess also invites us to reflect upon how we exercise that freedom.
The existence of a food chain explains how nature functions. It does not, by itself, answer how moral beings with the capacity for reason, well-equipped with agriculture, nutritional science, technology and genuine freedom to choose among different food sources, ought to exercise that freedom when genuine alternatives exist.
I also wish to be transparent about my own journey. These reflections are not written from the perspective of someone who has already perfected every aspect of their life. After learning more about animal welfare concerns associated with the modern dairy industry, I have begun gradually reducing my own dairy consumption with the hope of eventually moving towards a vegan lifestyle. I know this will not happen overnight. Like many people, I live within family traditions and long-established habits. Becoming aware was my first step.
I hope, over time, to align my choices more closely with my conscience. I remain not a preacher, but a fellow traveller, still learning, still questioning, and still trying to live more consciously than I did yesterday.
Question 5
"What About Survival Situations?"
Another example raised was that of people stranded after a plane crash in snow who have survived by eating human flesh when there was no food in vicinity.
I completely agree.
Extreme survival situations belong to an entirely different ethical category.
When life itself hangs in the balance and no alternatives exist, survival instinct becomes extraordinarily strong.
My reflections were never directed towards such exceptional circumstances.
They concern ordinary life.
The choices we make every day when alternatives genuinely exist.
Those choices deserve to be examined differently from choices made under conditions of extreme necessity.
Question 6
"What Are You Actually Asking People To Do?"
Perhaps this is one of the most valuable questions of all!
My answer surprised even me as I reflected upon it.
I am not trying to tell people what they must eat.
Nor am I attempting to impose guilt.
Inclusive Compassion cannot be legislated into the human heart.
It has to arise from within, naturally.
My blogs simply invite readers to pause.
To reflect.
To ask questions that many of us, including myself, never thought to ask because our habits became so deeply normalized since childhood, that they no longer appeared to require self-examination.
For some people, that reflection may simply begin with a moment of gratitude before a meal, a silent acknowledgement that another living being, whether animal or plant, has contributed to sustaining our own life.
For others, it may inspire reducing meat consumption...
or exploring more humane alternatives...
or gradually moving towards a vegetarian or vegan lifestyle...
or it may change nothing at all.
Each of these remains a deeply personal choice.
Awareness cannot be forced.
Only invited.
I have come to realize that awareness is not the destination; it is the beginning of an honest conversation with one's own conscience.
Being honest about my own journey of looking to become vegan by reducing all animal milk based diet, I am not writing as someone who has already arrived at all the answers. After becoming aware about the nuances of modern dairy industry, I have myself begun seriously looking to reduce my milk consumption with the hope of eventually moving towards a vegan lifestyle. I know this is unlikely to happen overnight. Meaningful and lasting change often takes time. For me, becoming aware was the first step.
The choices I make tomorrow may not be exactly the same as the choices I made today or yesterday.
And perhaps that is what growth looks like.
Not perfection.
But a sincere willingness to keep aligning one's actions a little more closely with one's conscience.
Question 7
"Are Non-Vegetarians Less Compassionate?"
Quite the opposite.
One realization humbled me while writing these blogs.
Many of the kindest, most generous, and most selfless people I have ever known are the ones with a predominantly non-vegetarian diet.
Life itself taught me this lesson.
During one of the most difficult periods of my life, when I was overwhelmed by personal, legal, financial, and emotional challenges, I discovered that compassion does not always come from where we expect it to.
Some people whose beliefs emphasized non-violence were unable to stand beside me.
At the very same time, others whose dietary choices were completely different from mine, extended extraordinary kindness, support, and unconditional help without expecting anything in return.
Those life experiences humbled me and left a lasting impression on me.
It taught me never to judge the depth of a person's heart merely by what appears on their plate or what tastes they have developed!
Compassion wears many forms.
It cannot be measured solely by religion.
Nor by philosophy.
Nor by dietary choices.
Some of the finest human beings I have ever known eat meat.
They are the first to help a stranger.
The first to comfort a grieving friend.
The first to donate.
The first to stand beside another human being during hardship.
That realization forced me to abandon a simplistic narrative of "compassionate people" versus "uncompassionate people."
Reality, I discovered, is far more nuanced.
Perhaps the issue is not the absence of empathy.
Perhaps it is that empathy has been conditioned to operate within certain boundaries from a very young age!
Children do not consciously decide which animals become family and which become food.
They inherit those distinctions from loving parents and grandparents who themselves inherited them from earlier generations.
The child simply learns what is normal.
Long before the child learns to question.
Question 8
"Is This Hypocrisy?"
Initially I wondered whether human beings were hypocritical.
The more I reflected...
the less convinced I became.
Today I feel that perhaps hypocrisy is not the most accurate word.
Conditioning is.
We grieve deeply when suffering belongs to those we identify as "ours."
The suffering of other conscious beings often remains outside our field of moral awareness.
Not necessarily because we lack compassion.
But because we inherited invisible boundaries around whom our compassion naturally includes.
Perhaps one of humanity's greatest blind spots is not that we lack compassion.
Perhaps it is that we have unconsciously learned where to stop extending it.
Question 9
"How Much of What We Believe Is Truly Our Own?"
This thoughtful question asked me whether these reflections are simply a natural consequence of my being born into a Jain family.
I believe that is a very fair question.
The truth is, my upbringing has undoubtedly influenced me.
Being born into a Jain family introduced me to the idea of ahimsa (non-violence) from an early age. Later, my interest in Vipassana meditation and the teachings of Lord Buddha encouraged me to observe suffering more carefully and cultivate greater compassion. It would be unrealistic to pretend that these influences have played no role in shaping my thinking and behaviour.
Yet, upon deeper reflection, I began to wonder whether they were the whole story.
Many people born into Jain families choose to eat meat. Others never question dairy or never feel drawn towards veganism.
Many people practise Vipassana and continue eating meat.
Equally, many vegetarians and vegans come from families, cultures, and religions where meat-eating is the norm.
This suggests that while our upbringing undoubtedly influences us, it does not completely determine the choices we eventually make.
That realization led me to a deeper question:
"If I had been born into another family, another culture, another religion, or another part of the world, would I be asking these same questions—or entirely different ones?"
Perhaps that question is not mine alone.
Perhaps it belongs to all of us.
None of us chooses the family into which we are born.
None of us chooses our first language, our earliest customs, or the moral assumptions that quietly surround us in childhood.
Every one of us begins life by inheriting a worldview long before we are capable of examining it.
The real challenge, I believe, is not to reject everything we inherit, nor to accept it unquestioningly.
Rather, it is to examine our inherited beliefs with honesty, to retain those that withstand reflection, refine those that deepen with understanding, and remain open to changing those that no longer align with our conscience.
Perhaps that is what it means to grow.
Not merely to inherit values.
But to consciously choose them.
The Question I Ultimately Ask Myself
Whether we ultimately change our choices or not remains deeply personal.
The question I now ask myself is not:
"What should everyone else do?"
It is:
"How many of my convictions are truly my own, and how many did I inherit long before I was old enough to question them?"
"If I possess the freedom to choose, am I willing to examine those choices through the lenses of awareness?"
I ask these questions not to judge anyone.
I ask them because I have begun asking them of myself.
A Personal Note About Perspective
Before concluding these reflections, I wish to share something about myself.
Every human being is shaped by family, culture, education, friendships, books, mentors, life experiences, suffering, and moments of grace.
I was born into a loving Gujarati Jain family, and I remain deeply grateful to my parents for the countless sacrifices they made for me.
My parents gave me life, love, and values. Yet, like many people, my inner world was also profoundly shaped by books, teachers, experiences, and the questions that life itself placed before me.
Like every parent and every child, however, we do not think alike on every subject.
That is neither a criticism of them nor a rejection of my upbringing
It is simply the natural journey of every human being.
As we grow, each of us gradually develops our own understanding of life, our own values and the principles by which we choose to live.
Some of my perspectives have undoubtedly been positively influenced by my parents.
Many others have been shaped by remarkable teachers whom I have never met personally, authors whose books became silent companions during different phases of my life.
Books have often been among my greatest mentors.
My Many years in medicine...
My legal journey.
My spiritual exploration.
My encounters with suffering.
My search for justice.
My study of philosophy, psychology, science, religion, and consciousness.
Each has quietly contributed to the person I continue to become.
For that reason, I never expect those closest to me to explain my worldview on my behalf.
Just as I could never fully explain theirs.
Each of us speaks from the landscape of our own experiences.
For that reason, I hope these reflections are read simply as what they are:
My own reflections.
Not the official views of my culture, tradition or even my own family.
Not the views of my community.
Simply the thoughts of one imperfect human being trying to understand life a little more honestly than yesterday.
A Heartfelt Thank You
Finally, I wish to thank the thoughtful wellwisher, her questions inspired meaningful actions as well as these reflections.
She reminded me that respectful disagreement often teaches us more than easy agreement, if we are willing to let sincere questions challenge our assumptions rather than merely defend them.
She helped me realize that my writing is not about persuading people to become like me.
It is about encouraging all of us, including myself, to ask certain questions to ourselves and make choices that align with our own conscience after thoughtful reflection.
Whether those choices ultimately change or remain the same is for each individual conscience to decide.
If these reflections encourage even one more sincere conversation like the one I was fortunate enough to have with this thoughtful reader, then I shall consider these blogs to have already served a meaningful purpose.
Because perhaps the search for truth is rarely a solitary journey.
More often, it is a dialogue between minds willing to question...
hearts willing to be open to listen...
and consciences willing to grow.
If, after reading these reflections, someone chooses to continue exactly as before, but does so with greater awareness than yesterday, then I believe this dialogue has still been worthwhile.
Today I experienced something so beautiful and deeply personal that I felt compelled to share it.
Whether one calls it a coincidence, a synchronicity, Divine guidance, or simply the mind noticing meaningful patterns, I leave entirely to the reader.
I only know how it felt to me.
I was finalizing an important legal document relating to my late father's rights.
The final annexure ended on page 898.
Before printing the document, I sought professional advice regarding the pagination. I was told that I had two options: either continue with page 899 for the docket or simply let the annexure remain the final page.
Curiously, when I later sought spiritual guidance in my own way, the response I felt was simple:
"Keep it at 898."
So I did.
The document was printed exactly as it was.
This final Draft ending at page number 898 was sent to confirm at around 14:30 hours.
I then went to have this finalised Draft to be duly notarized.
On my way back, around 5:20 pm in evening, after notary was done, I hailed an auto-rickshaw.
As I settled into my seat, something immediately caught my eye.
The registration number ended with 898.
I smiled.
And then I noticed something else.
The registration also carried the initials "DK."
For most people, these would simply be two letters.
For me, they are my late father's initials.
And the very document I had just finalized on page 898 concerned his legal rights.
As if that were not enough, another sentence was written on the auto:
("When a daughter is educated, society progresses.")
At that very moment, I felt overwhelmed with gratitude.
Was it merely a coincidence?
Perhaps.
Could my mind simply have attached meaning to ordinary events?
That is certainly one possible explanation.
Or perhaps, as Carl Jung described through the concept of synchronicity, there are moments when seemingly unrelated events align in ways that carry profound personal meaning for the individual experiencing them.
I cannot prove which explanation is correct.
Nor do I feel the need to.
What I know is this.
Throughout my long journey of seeking justice for my father, there have been countless moments when circumstances unfolded with such extraordinary timing that they renewed my faith precisely when I needed it most.
When I began this journey, I had almost no evidence.
Today, I stand with a wealth of material that has completely transformed my understanding of the truth.
Looking back, I often feel that I have never truly walked this path alone.
Whether one attributes that to Divine grace, my father's continued presence in spirit, my ancestors, guardian angels, spirit guides, the unconscious mind, or simply the mysterious intelligence woven into the fabric of life, I leave entirely to each reader's own beliefs.
For me, however, these moments have become gentle reminders that I am supported in ways I cannot always explain.
They have nurtured my courage whenever I felt exhausted.
They have renewed my hope whenever I doubted myself.
And above all, they have continually reminded me to remain grateful.
I share this experience not to convince anyone that my interpretation is the correct one.
I merely invite those who read this to remain open to wonder.
Perhaps there are moments in our own lives that we dismiss too quickly as "just coincidences."
Perhaps they are.
Or perhaps they are gentle whispers from a reality that is far greater than our present understanding.
I have learned that the Universe rarely shouts.
It often whispers.
And perhaps the greatest miracle is not that such moments occur.
Perhaps it is that we remain open enough to notice them.
This reflection challenges some deeply ingrained beliefs surrounding food, culture, tradition, and our relationship with other sentient beings.
If you feel deeply attached to your existing dietary choices, cultural traditions, or the taste of meat, and are not presently open to questioning or re-examining those beliefs, you may find it best to skip this article.
This blog has not been written to criticize, shame, or convert anyone.
However, if you are someone who values truth over comfort, questions over certainty, and reflection over reaction, then I warmly invite you to continue with an open mind, an open heart, and a spirit of honest self-inquiry.
I do not ask that you agree with my conclusions.
I ask only that, if you choose to read further, you do so with the willingness to reflect rather than react.
Take what resonates. Leave the rest.
Today I found myself reflecting upon something that had very little to do with one individual and everything to do with the human mind—its conditioning, its blind spots, and its extraordinary ability to normalize what it has inherited without ever pausing to question it.
I came across an interview with a well-known public figure.
Much of the conversation revolved around deeply human experiences.
The loss of a beloved parent.
The emotional transformation that followed.
The gratitude felt towards a loving spouse who patiently accepted those changes.
As I read the interview, I found myself genuinely moved.
Anyone who has lost a parent understands that kind of grief.
Anyone who has been blessed with an understanding life partner knows how precious such support can be.
Then, almost in the same breath, the interview mentioned that the individual had left one profession to expand a successful poultry business.
I paused.
Not because there is anything unusual about running a business.
But because I suddenly found myself wondering about something far deeper.
Every single day, countless chickens are separated from their mothers and their families.
Most spend their entire lives in confinement.
Eventually they are slaughtered, processed, packaged, and sold.
Their lives end so that human beings, including perhaps ourselves, may satisfy appetite, convenience, tradition, or profit.
As I reflected upon this, I found myself confronted by a striking paradox.
The same human heart that feels grief so intensely for the loss of a parent, a spouse, or a child can often remain unaware of the suffering endured by countless other conscious beings whose lives quietly become part of what we celebrate as a "successful business."
That realization led me to an uncomfortable question.
Is this hypocrisy?
Or is something even deeper taking place?
When suffering belongs to us, it feels immense.
Sometimes it even feels as though the world itself has come to an end.
When loss enters our own family, it transforms our lives.
When someone we love dies, we naturally expect the world to understand our grief.
Yet when equally conscious beings are separated from their mothers and young, cry out in terror, struggle desperately to survive, and ultimately have their lives taken against their will so that they may become products on our supermarket shelves, we often call it industry.
Or commerce.
Or business.
Or food production.
Or simply,
"the way the world works."
As I continued reflecting, I realized that perhaps the real question was never about one individual at all.
The emotions expressed in that interview were genuine.
They deserved to be honoured.
The question that fascinated me was something much deeper.
How can a heart be so deeply connected to its own grief, yet remain largely unaware of the grief experienced by countless other sentient beings?
Perhaps the answer is not hypocrisy.
Perhaps it is not even malice.
Perhaps it is conditioning.
One observation from my own life has continually humbled me. Many of the people I have personally known who consume mostly non-vegetarian food have also been among the kindest, most generous, and most selfless human beings I have ever met. They are often the first to rush forward when someone needs help, the first to comfort a stranger in distress, the first to donate, volunteer, or stand beside another human being during difficult times.
This has taught me something important.
The issue, at least in my experience, is usually not an absence of empathy.
Rather, it is that our empathy has been unconsciously conditioned to operate within certain boundaries.
Most of us were raised in cultures where some animals were introduced to us as companions, while others were introduced to us as food. From childhood we inherited cultural norms, family traditions, dietary habits, and social values that quietly taught us which lives should be cherished, which should be protected, and which could simply become products for our convenience, appetite, or profit.
Long before we were old enough to examine the ethics of it, we had already inherited those categories without a chance to choose for ourselves.
Most of us never consciously chose where our compassion should begin and where it should end.
The remarkable thing is that this conditioning is often so complete that we no longer even recognize it.
Our own emotions feel vivid, undeniable, and deserving of understanding.
Yet the emotions of billions of other sentient beings, their fear, their attachment to life, their longing to remain with their families, rarely enter our moral awareness because we were never taught to see them.
As a result, the suffering of certain sentient beings became normalized, not because we consciously wished them harm, but because we had been taught, from childhood, that this was simply necessary for survival, part of our culture, or "just the way things are."
Perhaps this is why I hesitate to judge people.
Instead, I find myself questioning the conditioning that shaped all of us, including myself.
For if our capacity for compassion is already present, then perhaps the real journey is not learning compassion, but expanding its boundaries through awareness, reflection, and conscious choice. Perhaps the question is whether we are willing to extend that compassion to other sentient beings who cherish their own lives just as we cherish ours, recognizing that what separates us is often not the sanctity of life itself, but the imbalance of power, vulnerability, and our ability to determine their destiny.
Just before writing these reflections, my mother shared with me, for the very first time, an incident from my early childhood that had never before been discussed because I was barely two years old at the time.
She recalled that one day she was frantically searching for my elder brother, who, as a mischievous little boy, had a habit of wandering away from home. While asking around, she happened to enter the small hut of the building's watchman, a Nepali Gorkha, to ask whether he had seen him.
What she witnessed inside left an indelible mark on her memory.
The watchman, his wife, and their child were preparing a meal.
Lying on the floor was the severed head of a dog while the family cleaned the flesh from its bones for cooking.
My mother stood frozen in horror.
Only then did she realize why certain stray dogs from the neighbourhood had mysteriously disappeared.
After my mother shared this story with me, I asked her,
"Mom, you've never told us about this before. Why did you never mention it?"
She smiled quite matter-of-factly and replied,
"Is this even an incident worth discussing?"
Her answer surprised me.
To her, it had simply become another forgotten memory tucked away in the countless experiences of a lifetime.
To me, it became one of the most thought-provoking stories I had ever heard.
It also made me wonder how many remarkable experiences our parents quietly carry within themselves, memories they never think to share because, to them, they seem ordinary, insignificant, or long forgotten.
Perhaps every elder is a living library, holding countless untold stories, lessons, and moments that quietly shaped their lives but may never be passed on unless someone pauses to ask.
Hearing this story decades later was deeply disturbing.
It reminded me that what one culture regards as food may be viewed by another as an unimaginable tragedy.
It also revealed how differently human societies define which animals deserve love and protection and which may simply become dinner.
This forgotten story also made the memory of Mikey's heartbreaking story, resurface in my mind. I do not know what happened to Mikey, nor do I wish to speculate.
But the memory reminded me how easily vulnerable animals can disappear without ever having a voice to tell us their story.
As I reflected more deeply, I realized that perhaps the absence of empathy towards many sentient beings is often not born out of cruelty or an inherent lack of compassion.
More often, it is simply the result of conditioning.
Most of us did not consciously choose our relationship with animals.
We inherited it.
From the time we were infants, we were introduced to certain foods by loving parents and grandparents who themselves had inherited those same customs from previous generations.
We were told:
"This is normal."
"This is how it has always been."
"This is simply the way the world works."
Our favourite meals became associated with family gatherings, festivals, celebrations, comfort, and happy childhood memories.
Very few of us ever paused to ask what journey those meals had taken before reaching our plates.
Not because we lacked compassion.
But because the suffering remained invisible.
The animal was no longer seen as a living being with a mother, a family, emotions, fears, and a desire to live.
It had become...
A product.
A meal.
A tradition.
Something so deeply normalized that questioning it rarely even occurred to us.
Perhaps this is how every society normalizes its own practices.
A child is born innocent.
The child does not initially know what is food and what is family.
It simply learns from the adults around it.
Whatever is repeatedly presented as normal gradually becomes normal.
Perhaps this is why cultures across the world have developed vastly different ideas about which living beings deserve love, companionship, worship, protection, or consumption.
It also made me wonder whether this same process of cultural conditioning explains many practices throughout human history that today seem unimaginable to us.
If a child is raised from birth believing that a particular act is normal, necessary, or even honourable, that belief may become deeply embedded long before the child is old enough to question it.
Perhaps this is why awareness is so transformative.
Not because it instantly changes everyone.
But because it gently allows us to see what we had previously never thought to look at.
And once something enters our moral awareness, our conscience naturally begins asking questions it never knew to ask before.
Are we simply unaware of the astonishing ability of the human ego to expand compassion towards those we identify as "ours" while quietly excluding those whom we have labelled as "other"?
Perhaps this is one of the greatest illusions of the human mind.
We do not consciously decide that our suffering matters more.
We simply experience our own pain from the inside and everyone else's from the outside.
And perhaps that distance makes all the difference.
It allows us to cry when one dog dies.
To celebrate when one child is born.
To treasure a loving spouse.
To mourn when our own father passes away.
Yet remain emotionally untouched by the millions of equally conscious lives that disappear every single day because their stories are not our stories.
Instead, their deaths become the means of satisfying our palate, preserving our traditions, sustaining industries, and generating profits, while their suffering rarely enters our conscience.
We have normalized the taking of conscious lives to such an extent that we no longer consciously perceive the moral weight and consequences of it!
Perhaps this is humanity's greatest blind spot.
Not that we lack compassion.
But that we have unconsciously learned where to stop extending it.
Whether we ultimately change our choices or not is a deeply personal decision.
But perhaps the more important question is whether we are genuinely willing to ask ourselves:
"How many of my own beliefs, habits, customs, and traditions have I accepted simply because they were normalized long before I was old enough to question them?"
And perhaps an even more uncomfortable question:
"Am I happy and willing to continue participating in the taking—or supporting the taking—of another conscious being's life, despite its desperate longing to live, simply because the practice has been normalized by my culture, my upbringing, or my habits, without ever examining it through the lens of deeper awareness, compassion, and expansive empathy?"
Or perhaps the question is even simpler:
"Can my own happiness truly be complete if it depends upon the unhappiness, fear, suffering, or death of another sentient being—regardless of how powerless, voiceless, or evolutionarily different that being may be?"
I do not ask these questions to judge anyone.
I ask them because I have begun asking them of myself.
Perhaps every journey towards greater compassion begins with a single moment of awareness.
Perhaps the greatest challenge of spiritual evolution is not becoming more religious or more ritualistic.
Perhaps the real challenge is becoming incapable of limiting our compassion only to those who resemble us.
Perhaps the measure of an awakened heart is not how deeply it loves its own.
Perhaps it is how widely that love extends.
I do not expect that this one reflection will change the world.
History teaches us humility.
Even the Enlightened TathΔgata, Lord Buddha, despite His boundless compassion and wisdom, did not transform the hearts of every human being.
Nor did the twenty-four Jain Tirthankaras, whose lives embodied the highest ideals of non-violence, persuade the entire world to abandon violence towards other living beings.
Humanity has always evolved one soul at a time.
According to the law of karma, as understood by many spiritual traditions, every action ultimately bears its own consequences. If we become the cause of another being's suffering, fear, separation, or loss, then perhaps those experiences, too, become part of our own soul's journey until understanding, compassion, repentance, and transformation naturally arise.
In my own journey of exploring consciousness, I have found this principle echoed repeatedly in what are known as Akashic Record readings. I fully understand that not everyone accepts the existence or validity of the Akashic Records, and I respect that. My intention is not to convince anyone. I merely share what has personally resonated with me through years of exploration.
An individual whose work I believe deserves sincere and open-minded research is Edgar Cayce (1877–1945), often referred to as "The Sleeping Prophet." Widely regarded as one of the most extensively documented psychics in history, Cayce reportedly gave over 14,000 recorded readings, many of which have been preserved and continue to be studied today. During his self-induced trance states, he claimed to access what he described as the Akashic Records—a metaphysical repository believed in several spiritual traditions to contain the impressions of every soul's journey across lifetimes. According to these readings, many of our present-day relationships, talents, challenges, illnesses, and recurring life patterns may be understood through the lens of karma and the soul's evolution. Whether one ultimately accepts or rejects Cayce's claims is, of course, a matter of personal discernment. However, given the extraordinary volume of documented material he left behind and the continuing research into his work, I believe he is well worth studying with an open mind, healthy skepticism, and a genuine desire to seek truth.
Together with the work of researchers such as Dr. Brian Weiss, Dr. Raymond Moody, Dr. Ian Stevenson, Dr. Jim Tucker, Ms. Suzanne Giesemann, Sir Edgar Cayce, and many others exploring consciousness, evidential mediumship, Near-Death Experiences, reincarnation, and the continuity of consciousness beyond physical death, I find that many of their observations resonate remarkably with the timeless teachings of great spiritual masters such as the Enlightened One, Lord Buddha, who spoke of karma, rebirth, compassion, and the interconnectedness of life more than 2,500 years ago.
Perhaps it is no coincidence that the devastating Battle of Kalinga became the turning point in the life of Emperor Ashoka. Deeply shaken by the immense human suffering and loss of life he had caused, Ashoka underwent a profound moral and spiritual transformation. Renouncing conquest through violence, he embraced the path of Dhamma and became one of history's greatest patrons of Buddhist philosophy, helping spread its teachings of compassion, non-violence, and ethical living across much of Asia.
Whether one interprets these historical events, spiritual teachings, or modern investigations as converging upon a deeper truth is, of course, a matter of personal reflection.
I do not ask anyone to accept these perspectives uncritically. I merely encourage sincere seekers to explore the evidence, the research, and the wisdom available from different traditions, and then arrive at their own conclusions with an open mind, healthy skepticism, and intellectual honesty.
One recurring theme I have encountered in many such Akashic readings is remarkably consistent: as we sow, so shall we reap. Many accounts describe individuals discovering that the challenges, losses, or recurring patterns they face in one lifetime may be connected to choices made in a previous one or another. According to these accounts, lasting healing often begins only when the soul develops genuine understanding, compassion, and a willingness to transform.
Whether one interprets these accounts literally, symbolically, or chooses not to accept them at all is entirely a matter of personal discernment.
Yet they leave me with one simple question that continues to echo within me:
"If I would never wish to be bred, confined, terrorized, slaughtered, or butchered against my will simply because another being was more powerful than I am, what gives me the moral right to inflict that fate upon another sentient being?"
I do not claim to possess the answer.
I only know that it is a question I can no longer ignore.
For me, it serves as a constant reminder that every choice matters.
That is why I hold no expectation that the whole world will suddenly change.
Nor is that the purpose of this reflection.
My only hope is that these words reach those souls who are ready to pause.
Ready to question.
Ready to reflect with an open mind and an open heart.
And then, without pressure, guilt, or judgment, allow their own conscience to guide them towards whatever they sincerely feel is the highest expression of truth, compassion, and awareness.
If even one person becomes a little more conscious because of these reflections...
If even one sentient life is spared unnecessary suffering because someone chose compassion over habit...
Then, for me, these words will already have served their purpose.
