“When a plant or animal dies it will eventually be eaten by the decomposing microbes. They will decay or disassemble it and put it back into the soil. This life-death-decay-life cycle has built the thin layer of fertile soil that covers our land. It nourishes and grows our plants, which are the bridge of life between the soil and man. The laws of Nature demands that all expired life be recycled back to the soil to serve as food and energy to support future life. Nature did not exempt the human body from this cycle. Should not it too be recycled?” –Malcolm Beck, “Pushing Up Daisies”Long before I read The American Way of Death and learned about the seamy underbelly of the American deathcare industry, I decided that I wanted to be cremated. It just seemed like more of a free-spirited thing to do, and as a gal with a rabid case of wanderlust, I liked the idea of merging with the wind and rain instead of being anchored to one spot for eternity.
As I got older I also recognized the value in staying away from modern burial techniques, since they’re so economically wasteful and bad for the environment. Consider this:
- Many coffins aren’t solid wood—they’re made of chipboard that contains formaldehyde—and their handles are made of plastic made to look like brass. When happens when that formaldehyde and plastic starts leaching into the soil? Toxic embalming fluids, along with the copper or lead in expensive caskets, can leak into the ground and water supply.
- When a corpse decomposes inside a coffin, there isn’t enough oxygen to create aerobic compost (a beneficial process). Instead, anaerobic decomposition takes place and produces methane, which is 23 times as powerful a greenhouse gas such as CO2.
- Massive cemeteries take up land that could be used for food production, playgrounds, or nature preserves.
So why am I thinking about all of this right now, when I’m healthy and robust and only 33 years old? I’m not going to deny that I’m a morbid ghoul at heart, but really, that’s not the reason why I gave this subject so much thought. No, my intentions were far more straightforward and practical. Basically I just realized that, hey, I could die at any minute. Even as a teenager I had no illusions of immortality. And I knew that if I died without telling my family how I wanted them to dispose of my body, they’d probably end up taking the safe route and burying me in a cemetery, even if that’s not what I wanted. Yes, okay, it wouldn’t really matter if they did that, since I’d be dead and unable to see/experience what was going on. But, see, I just think it’s sad when a person’s deathcare clashes with his/her wishes or personality type, simply because the family had no idea—or didn’t care—what the person wanted. Like an earth-loving hippie who’s buried in a huge mausoleum or an expatriate who’s buried in his hometown, simply because that’s what their families want.
So at an early age I scripted a will stating my wishes: I want any viable organs and tissues to be donated; I want to be cremated, with half of my ashes spread in Greenwich and half spread in Lebanon County; and I want a memorial service that’s simple and nonreligious, with particular songs played and particular poems read. In lieu of flowers, donations should be made to my favorite charities or trees should be planted in my honor. If flowers are received, they should be donated to hospitals and hospices afterward. I specified that my dad is to take custody of my cats. I specified which charities/organizations should receive money from my estate. I said that my possessions and valuables should be distributed among my family and my very closest friends, as long as we’ve had contact within the six months prior to my death. Certain items go straight to my mom—my photos and journals, mainly—and my journals can be read by my loved ones after Heather has edited them to *ahem* remove any incriminating evidence.
In recent years, though, I’ve been pulling away from the cremation idea, mostly because it’s not an ecologically sound practice. I learned that the typical crematorium consumes around 285 kilowatt hours of gas and 15kWh of electricity during the three-five hours it takes to burn a body at 1600 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s around the same amount of energy an average person uses at home in a month. Plus cremation releases into the air CO2, mercury vapor (from fillings), dioxins, and hydrocarbons (from crematory coffins). A 1990 study by the Electric Power Research Institute found that mercury vapor during cremation of a person with the average number of fillings was toxic enough to poison the fish in five 10-acre lakes. A 1999 report from San Francisco’s Public Works Department found that crematoria were the third-highest contributor of mercury in the region. Not only that, but are ashes really good for the environment?
In 2003 I read Mary Roach’s book Stiff, and it led me to consider human composting. This involves freezing a body; immersing it in liquid nitrogen; letting it disintegrate into an odorless, hygienic powder; and then burying it in a biodegradable coffin. Any toxic parts like mercury fillings can be separated out beforehand. The powder composts completely into a rich soil in just a few months. A freeze-dried body supposedly produces up to 65 pounds of pure organic matter that would enrich the soil. It does sound kind of grisly and weird at first blush, but the basic tenet of composting is pure: it’s simply a means of wholly returning to the earth and doing one’s part to nurture soil and trees.
However, I do have to wonder: How much energy does it take to make the liquid nitrogen? Will any traces of it remain in the powder and contaminate the earth? Wouldn’t it be better to just put my corpse on a traditional compost pile and let nature do its trick? Will such an option ever be made available to the general public? Probably not, because most people would be turned off by the idea—they wouldn’t want to think of their loved ones decaying under a pile of waste, coffee grounds, banana peels, etc. But it would be a practical solution for someone who wants to be composted without liquid nitrogen. Compost companies have found that large animals (even full-grown horses) disappear completely within two weeks when placed in an active compost pile. Nothing remains—no teeth, bones, or hair. Wouldn’t a human disappear almost as quickly? It’s not like my family would have to live with the thought of my body hanging out in a compost pile for a full year.
But anyway, the other day I read a great article (in, of all places, the June 25th issue of People magazine) about green burials. The article focused on the Ramsey Creek Preserve in South Carolina, a cemetery/nature preserve that’s exclusively reserved for green burials. The owners dig all graves by hand, and the cost of each plot is used to fund land restoration. Headstones are simple and made from local fieldstone. Coffins are simple pine boxes that are biodegradable. Bodies are unembalmed and wrapped in simple cotton shrouds. If you were a fan of Six Feet Under, you’ll remember when Nate was buried in a similar manner—wrapped in a shroud and buried under a tree in a nature preserve.
After People ran the article, letters began pouring in, some in support of green burials and others condemning it. One woman wrote, “I have seen the postmortem effect on a human body and cannot fathom the idea of allowing loved ones to decompose in a crude fashion.”
Anyone want to hazard a guess as to what this woman does for a living? That’s right, she’s a funeral director. You mean a funeral director actually disapproves of burials that don’t require funeral homes? Shocking! Beyond that eye-rolling aspect, her letter cracked me up. “Decompose in a crude fashion”? As compared to the elegant decomposition you get in a casket? Come on, decomposition is decomposition. It’s ugly and it’s nasty and it’s natural no matter how you look at it. Granted, a top-of-the-line casket will keep the moisture and worms at bay for a long time, but the body, no matter how insulated and embalmed it is, is still going to decay. Decay is inevitable. So why not do it in a way that benefits the earth? It’s worth considering, anyway, although in the end, it’s a highly personal choice.
Personally I think that choosing to allow your body to return to the earth isn’t disrespectful or dishonorable. It’s not “crude.” It’s what our ancestors did, and if it was good enough for them, why isn’t it good enough for us? It’s definitely something that captivates me the more I think about it, and I sincerely hope that the green burial movement gains some steam in the years ahead.
Some links I found on the subject:
http://greenburialcouncil.org/
http://www.greenburials.org/
http://www.forestofmemories.org/
http://www.memorialecosystems.com/
song heard most recently before posting:
The Gunner’s Dream—Pink Floyd
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