Sadness with a heavy twinge of anger and disgust. Shedding tears for all the innocent beings programmed to eat harmful products (the children forced into traditions/beliefs and fed the expectations that they feel they better not disregard) and being used as the main ingredient in said products (the animals with no voice).
So many people are busy today getting all dressed up in their often newly purchased Sunday best, using all the "good hygiene" heavily fragranced products that are wiping out the environment and our endocrine systems, while "celebrating" the supposed life of a being miraculously coming back to life, according to man-made works of fiction, by steadily and quite happily indulging in all the heavily marketed/artificially created/flavored things that more than ensures the violent death and suffering of millions of other living things, and the certain demise of the health and well-being of many of their loved ones, but provides raised profit margins for several industries who handle all the dirty work to keep the blood off of our hands.
"But it tastes so good and lord knows we deserve a treat, plus it's a family tradition. We can't be breaking tradition as it may hurt someone's feelings." Well, all those living things suffering in order to make those "treats" possible deserve a damn treat, too. The treat to live their life without being killed and exploited by us humans. Only they can't ask for it, they have to fully rely on us to connect the dots.
It feels like anything but a sacred and honoring tradition once it's been dissected for what it really is. If only that much energy and attention could be spent daily trying to bring our own damn selves back to life, we might be onto something. Run, rabbits, run!