When John Robbins knew he would soon die, of an illness that had been ticking in the background for a lifetime, he turned towards this mystery as he turned towards every big question in his life - with an open and fascinated mind.
From Diet for a New America to the Food Revolution Network and everything in between, John thrived on this quest for the truth of the matter. He did research. He wrote. He published best selling books and spoke to audiences that together numbered in the multi-millions. He was sober. He was penetrating. He was honest, radical, humble and ruthless in clearing out the underbrush of lies.
Was. Yes. Was. As of yesterday, June 11, 2025 he is gone from this life.
He’s been part of my life for 40 years. On tour for Diet for a New America, he spoke in a large hall in Seattle where I sat towards the back. I was struck by his willingness to put his moral core in charge of his life - a quality I had as well, but in obscurity. He eschewed his inheritance, went to the woods to live simply, authentically, with his wife, Deo. I went to the woods as well for similar reasons. From this deep dive into the truth of nature and love, he eventually caught wind of animal cruelty, did his research and wrote a book that became a vegan bible for his generation.
His booklet Realities of statistics about the toxic food industry inspired my group to produce our booklet, All Consuming Passion about consumerism.
When, in 2000, Lynne Twist and I gathered our mightiest companions to find that elusive “lever long enough to change the world”, back when I still thought the normal physics of social change worked, John was a first invitee. In that our friendship became one of the central anchors for my life as a change maker. He was always an older brother on the path. A wiser and steadier light. Even now, I feel him just ahead.
I highly recommend you watch this extraordinary video of a conversation from late last year in which John and Ocean speak of his health challenge.
For myself, it’s hard to write “was.” For Ocean and Deo and all who were close to him, I’m sure it’s even harder. Yet I know from our last circle in early December that, even in pain, he found the golden thread. He read about near death experiences, and prepared himself to enter his last breath fully present, fully curious, fully willing for this next step off the cliff of existence into whatever the mystery holds. Because of that, I am simply aware of his expansion and that he’s leaving long coattails on which I too one day will ride into the light.
A post publication aside from John’s last email to me:
“There is no part of me that thinks death is annihilation. I’ve always known that when we die we leave our bodies, the way a bird might fly free from a now empty cage. But there is so much mystery to it all. Including of course, why is there so very much suffering in this world? Why are human beings the way they are? And will there be a way for me to help from the other side?”
I also sense through him that dying is labor, that there is a narrowing down to the essential work of navigating that tunnel. I’ve held as steady as I could in these last days. A long distance doula. And now he’s made it.
There will be tens of thousands of words written now that he is not in charge of his own story. As public as he was, he wasn’t effusive about himself. Now he is beyond caring that each of us will tell his story through our own lenses. We must be careful, though, to not make this beautiful, complex man into an avatar. Promise, John, but you will always be a light on my path.
Gone gone gone beyond gone beyond the beyond, hail the goer.
Please join the Food Revolution as one way to honor John’s work with his son Ocean
When Great Trees Fall
By Maya Angelou
When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.
When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.
When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.
Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance, fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance of
dark, cold
caves.
And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.
Thank you for this Vicki. I'm feeling John's loss too. He was an incredible human, who meant a lot to me and Austin (he officiated our wedding ceremony :) and to many members of the YES! World community. So much love for him on his onward journey, with gratitude for how I know he will continue to hold us as an ancestor. And so much love for all of us who knew and loved him.