I would like to think of myself as a pretty moral and conscientious person. I think of my generation in a similar way.

While there will always be a part of the population that just doesn’t care about humanitarian, health, political and social issues…I feel that my generation is more plugged in to these things. We, as a collective, take more time to think about the world, our role in it, and how our actions can affect it. Maybe this has something to do with the Internet, which connects us across the globe—giving a human face and a human connection to go along with news stories of suffering, global warming, child labor, animal cruelty, starvation, and poverty.

But for all I care, and I do care, how do my actions represent my beliefs and values? How much am I willing to inconvenience myself to stay true to what I think is important. How much am I willing to give of my money, my time, my hard work for others? How far do my actions fall from the tree of value?

I’ll break down a few of my beliefs and actions to illustrate the question I’m asking, and to further this argument.

I care about my health and the cost of health care.

I know taking better care of myself today means that I will be healthier in the future, will cost me less money, and as a whole, will help society bring down the outrageous costs of health care. I know exercising and eating right will help me in this endeavor. Because of these two things, I only buy organic foods and I try to exercise often. But what about when I’m really hungry at work, and the only thing available is a Costco-sized vat of pretzels? What if the nearest place to buy organic food is a 15-minute walk away? What if I don’t have the money in my account to buy extra food for lunch? Is indulging in the seemingly harmless pretzels a breach of my values?

I care for animals.

I want them to be well treated, cared for, loved, and sheltered. I believe animals, of most if not all forms, have feelings, can experience pain, stress, boredom and frustration—and the fact that they can’t speak our language doesn’t make any of those things less important. So, I’ve chosen to be vegetarian. I’ve also chosen not to eat eggs. By not buying meat products or egg products, I am reducing demand for a practice I don’t believe in. But what about that delicious pastry I took a bite of when my friend ordered it last week? What about when I tell myself it is okay to eat fish?

I care about the environment.

I recycle my cans and paper. I try to walk or use public transportation as much as I can. I try to create less waste, to wash clothes less often and to pick up trash on the street. But what about when I throw away a magazine, because I don’t want to walk down to the recycling bin? What about when I buy a product whose manufacturer doesn’t care for the environment? What about when I decide to drive because it’s too cold out?

These may seem like silly instances—inconsequential points in life where obvious answers can be found. Eat the pretzels! Don’t worry about the fish! But really—where do we draw the line. Can we really stand up and say we believe in something when we don’t follow the principles? Should we be discredited for trying to survive while also trying to be good citizens of Earth?

What happens when these questions begin to get bigger? When it’s not about pretzels, but about all the under-paid workers who slave away in a factory for my mid-afternoon snack? What if it’s not just about me getting my protein, but about the depletion of our ocean’s supply of fish? What if it’s not just about my drive to work, but the beginning of a world catastrophe?

I find myself wondering if I can even say I am a vegetarian who worries for her health and tries to protect the environment. If all my actions don’t back these beliefs up, should I be able to claim the causes as my own? I don’t know the answers, and I imagine that the rest of my generation doesn’t really know either.

I wonder about companies who outrage the public by not doing more to protect their world, and I question whether we have the right to ask that question if we aren’t doing enough ourselves. I think about how much easier it is to point fingers and blame others, instead of changing our own lives. I think about how I’ve stood up and condemned someone else for their actions, when I’m not so sparklingly perfect myself.

I’ve made the promise to myself that I will be true to what I believe. That I will do my best to live a life that I, and others, can respect. And yet I keep falling short. I could do more to live my beliefs. I am acutely aware of this. It causes me stress that money and convenience often become larger priorities in my every day life.

Most of all, I worry about how my small indiscretions will add up and affect future generations. We talk about all the troubles our parent’s generation created for us to fix. But are we doing things differently? Are we doing enough?

Image: HeathB