Mainly I'm a vegan because I like animals, and I don't want to be

“Mainly I’m a vegan because I like animals, and I don’t want to be involved in their suffering. Also, it’s better for my health and for the environment.” Thus spoke Moby, a seeker not of power or conquest, but of compassion, of harmony between creature and creation. In these words lies not merely a choice of diet, but a declaration of spirit — a vow to live gently upon the earth, to take no joy in harm, and to align the beating of one’s heart with the rhythm of life itself. To understand this is to hear an ancient melody, one that has echoed through time since the dawn of consciousness: that all living beings share the same breath, and that the wise do not sever themselves from the web of life through cruelty or indifference.

In the temples of old, sages spoke of the law of ahimsa — non-violence in thought, word, and deed. They taught that to live in peace, one must first cease to cause needless pain. Moby’s words are a modern echo of that eternal teaching. For what is veganism, if not a living manifestation of compassion — a refusal to profit from the anguish of the innocent? He speaks as one who has looked upon the eyes of animals and seen not “beasts,” but kindred souls — breathing, feeling, longing for life as we do. His choice is not born of guilt, but of love; not of ascetic denial, but of reverence for all that lives.

The ancients would tell of the philosopher Pythagoras, who, more than two millennia ago, turned from the feasting of flesh to a life of simplicity and mercy. “As long as men massacre animals,” he said, “they will kill each other.” His followers believed that by sparing life, one purified the soul. So, too, does Moby’s path reflect that wisdom — the recognition that the suffering we inflict upon others becomes the poison within ourselves. For every act of harm ripples outward, touching the balance of the world. But so too does every act of kindness heal a portion of the wound.

There is also in his words a harmony of body and earth, of health and environment. He reminds us that compassion is not only a moral virtue, but a practical salvation. The ancient physicians knew this well — that a mind at peace and a body nourished by pure foods were the foundations of longevity. The modern world, in its hunger for excess, has forgotten this truth. Yet when one turns again to simple, plant-born sustenance, the body remembers its natural rhythm, and the earth breathes easier. Forests spared, waters cleansed, skies brightened — these are not distant dreams, but the fruits of mindful living.

But let none believe that such a path is easy. To choose compassion in a world built upon convenience is an act of quiet rebellion. The voice of mercy often stands alone amid the roar of appetite and profit. Yet it is in the soft voice that the greatest strength resides. For courage is not always found in battle, but in the steadfast refusal to participate in cruelty, even when the world calls it normal. The true warrior, said the sages, is one who conquers the self — who chooses what is right over what is easy, what is kind over what is common.

So take this lesson, you who would walk wisely through your days: every choice is a seed, and from it grows either suffering or peace. You need not renounce the world to change it — only awaken to the power of your actions. Begin with awareness: of where your food comes from, of what it costs the world, of how it touches the lives of others. Let empathy guide your hand, not habit. Eat with gratitude, consume with mindfulness, and honor the life that sustains you.

For in truth, to live with compassion is to live in harmony with the divine order. When you refuse to cause suffering, you become an instrument of healing. When you cherish the humble creatures of earth, you align yourself with the eternal current of love that sustains all existence. And when you care for your own body and the planet that bears you, you become both guardian and beneficiary of the sacred circle of life.

Thus, remember Moby’s words not as mere sentiment, but as a call to awakening: “I don’t want to be involved in their suffering.” For the measure of a person is not in what they claim to love, but in what they refuse to harm. Walk gently, eat consciously, live compassionately — and you shall find that in sparing others, you save yourself.