Vegan, Vegetarian, Omnivore, Carnivore — What Is Best?
This question emerges again and again, often carrying with it a great deal of tension. Paradoxically, some of the most outwardly peace-loving individuals — compassionate vegans or health-obsessed biohackers — can erupt with remarkable defensiveness and hostility when their dietary ideology is challenged. Many people forge a strong sense of personal identity from the food they consume and cling tightly to the philosophies that justify their choices. When ethics form the core of this identification, dissent can feel like an attack.
There are countless attempts to determine humanity’s “natural” diet. Some turn to anatomy — teeth, gastric acid, colon shape — to argue for frugivorism or carnivorism. Others cite the plant kingdom’s biochemical defense mechanisms — lectins, oxalates, and alkaloids — as reasons to avoid vegetables altogether. Still others appeal to anthropological evidence, asserting that indigenous traditions reflect dietary truth. And then there are the spiritual idealists who invoke Ahimsa, the principle of non-harm, as evidence that a truly awakened being must abstain from all animal products.
But the truth transcends all these lenses. Time is not linear, but cyclical — or rather, spiral. Consciousness has travelled these roads before, countless times, in countless forms. Maya continues her eternal dance through the cosmic seasons, through endless astrological configurations, elemental permutations, and balances of yin and yang. These variables shape not just our actions and thoughts, but our cravings, our health, and the way we nourish body and soul. To ask “what is the correct diet for humanity?” is not unlike asking “which star is the most natural?”
Humans Are Nature
If we wish to understand the natural diet of a species, we usually look to its behavior in the wild. We don’t question the goat’s affinity for grass or the lion’s preference for flesh. Yet when it comes to humans, we theorise endlessly, as if we were somehow apart from nature. But we are not. We are nature. There is no artificial human. Even our most ‘unnatural’ behaviors are expressions of nature unfolding within a particular evolutionary context.
Human beings live within vast interlocking cycles — daily, seasonal, planetary, and galactic. We are shaped by countless forces: genetics, blood type, geographical climate, solar activity, planetary transits, and galactic tides. All of these influence what will nourish or imbalance us in any given moment. What serves today may not serve tomorrow. Our internal needs change with the seasons, with age, with consciousness. There is no fixed answer — only a shifting point of balance.
Food Is More Than Nutrition — It Is Energy and Intelligence
Food is not merely sustenance for the body. It is a form of information. Each bite carries a frequency, a consciousness, that modulates our own. It interacts with our DNA, our subtle bodies, and our emotional and spiritual states. Some foods ground us, others elevate us. Some fortify the physical body, others ignite higher awareness. And just as we change, our relationship with food must also evolve.
Our dietary needs are deeply personal and in constant flux. What we require is not merely determined by our metabolism, but by our mission, our karmic contracts, and our role in the greater body of Gaia. Some will need meat to rebuild depleted tissues and stabilize from trauma. Others will thrive on sunlight, fruit, and meditation. Both are valid. The soul's path determines the body's needs.
On Meat, Malnutrition, and the Medicinal Role of Food
It is likely that early Ayurvedic texts once included praise for the healing properties of meat, especially during times of deficiency. While cultural and spiritual norms may have later influenced the removal or suppression of these passages, there is evidence that meat — particularly organ meats — played an important role in sustaining those who faced harsh climates, trauma, and physical hardship.
Many individuals with Vata-type constitutions, characterised by sensitivity and depletion, have found that a carnivorous or Paleo diet restored their health after years of chronic illness on a vegan or raw food regimen. In such cases, animal foods can be medicinal — a counterbalance to excessive yin. But as with all medicines, overuse or long-term reliance can lead to a different kind of imbalance. Over time, too much animal food can root consciousness in the lower chakras, leading to emotional rigidity, fear, or aggression.
Conversely, there are monastics and yogis who have thrived on minimal plant-based diets. Yet these individuals live under radically different conditions — in stillness, with minimal sensory stimulation, and profound spiritual focus. To model a modern lifestyle on their diet without adopting their lifestyle is often unrealistic and potentially harmful.
The Dynamic Nature of Balance
Balance is not static — it is a dance. The perfect diet today may be toxic tomorrow. Water, the most essential of substances, becomes deadly in excess. Toxins are, in many cases, simply excess or deficiency — of anything.
Ancient systems like Ayurveda offer useful frameworks: Kapha, Pitta, Vata — archetypes of human constitution and energetic balance. Kapha thrives on lighter foods. Pitta needs cooling. Vata demands grounding nourishment. But these archetypes are not fixed. They are fluid. The same person can oscillate between doshas, between phases of depletion and strength. Climate, age, stress, and even planetary weather influence what will serve.
Chakras, Animals, and Energy
Most animals humans eat live primarily within the frequencies of the lower chakras — survival, fear, instinct. This is not a judgment of their worth, but a recognition of their energetic expression. When we consume their flesh, we absorb their patterns. A diet heavy in meat can build powerful bodies, but also root us more deeply in fear, contraction, and separation.
This has served us during Kali Yuga — the age of spiritual contraction — where survival has dominated our consciousness. The meat-eating tribes were often the victors in war. Their strength was literal, their dominance material. But this is changing. As we move into the next age, what is required is not brute force, but equilibrium. No longer is it advantageous to be anchored in the lower chakras alone. Now, we are being called to become multi-dimensional — to embody the heart as centre.
Food as Portal and Anchor
Some people, especially in early stages of awakening, feel a pull toward fruitarianism, raw food, or liquid diets. These can act like rocket fuel — lifting the veils, inducing lightness, and facilitating connection with higher planes. However, without grounding, the body may begin to suffer. Strong bones, teeth, glands, and organs require density. Eventually, the awakened being often feels called to return — to embody, to ground, to integrate.
Coming back into density after tasting the bliss of transcendence can feel like a loss. But it is not. It is the continuation of the journey — the descent of spirit into matter. The flowering of heaven through the soil of Earth. We are here not just to ascend, but to bring that ascension into form — to seed Eden in the physical.
Kali Yuga and the Fear-Driven Pendulum
In Kali Yuga, we navigate primarily through fear. This is not a flaw — it is part of the design. We stumble in the dark, bumping against pain, reacting with knee-jerk polarity: “This diet harmed me, therefore it is evil.” “This food healed me, therefore it is perfect.” But extremes are rarely sustainable. A medicine in one season becomes a toxin in another.
Some abandon veganism and become devout carnivores. Others, repulsed by the cruelty of factory farming, embrace strict veganism and reject even honey. In both cases, trauma becomes dogma. But as the light of awareness grows, we begin to see the unity within paradox. We begin to feel the rhythm beneath the polarity. Duality is not opposition — it is dance.
The Return to Centre
To live in balance is to live from the centre — the heart. From this place we can perceive all things with clarity. We can listen to our bodies without fear. We can choose our food based not on ideology, but on intuition and intelligence. We become the oak tree — rooted and reaching. Grounded and expanded.
Our diet becomes an art. We no longer ask “What is right?” but “What is needed now?” And in that question lies our freedom.