Recently I stumbled across a video of Neil deGrasse Tyson answering a question about how he would feel if he was executed, since he only has science to console him:
“I would request that my body, in death, be buried not cremated, so that the energy content contained in within it gets returned to the earth, so that floral and fauna can dine upon it, just as I have dined upon flora and fauna throughout my life.”
Hearing this made me flush with happiness. It’s one of the few times I’ve heard someone echo my personal sentiments about death. His answer is strikingly poetic, which makes sense since it came during the Q&A session after a talk about ‘The Poetry of Science’ with Richard Dawkins.
I don’t believe in a separation between my consciousness and my body. The idea of an afterlife is one of those unproven concepts that I can’t buy into. And my thoughts about death don’t come from any sort of religion or spirituality. Instead, I view my existence as sadly poetic. I’m here and then I’m gone and isn’t that wonderful.
Some may consider me morbid. Facing my mortality happened pretty early for me. I think that’s a side effect of being sickly for so long. Death is scary but having a plan seems to make me feel more comfortable. So, yeah, I’ve spent time thinking about it.
The rituals of death seem to be more for the living than the dead. When I’m gone, I want my family and friends to take care of themselves. If they want a ritual ceremony or a particular way of dealing with my corpse, then of course I want them to do what’s most comforting in their time of grief. But, if I am to speak of my preference, I’d like to be worm food.
I don’t want my body to be cremated and set on a mantle in a jar. And I don’t want it to be preserved with embalming fluid and sealed in a box. I want to be returned to the earth. Throw me in a hefty bag, toss me in a hole, and let me rot.
For public health and legal reasons that probably won’t happen. I’m not so insensitive as to burden my grieving family with crime as my final wish. So, the practical girl that I am, I’ve been searching for alternatives.
When I heard of the Body Farm at the University of Tennessee my first thought was, “They let bodies decompose? Where can I sign up?!” It’d be killing two birds with one stone. Giving back, since they’d be studying my decomposing body for forensic science, and at least getting the decompose part of my wish.
While the Body Farm has a program for body donation, I live in California and they’re in Tennessee. I’ve looked into getting a body shipped across state lines and it’s not easy. Even if I could come up with the money, once again I’m worried about the additional burden I’d be putting on my loved ones.
But hope is not gone. After a lot of searching, I found another option. It’s called natural burial and there’s even a local cemetery that offers it. Now, the phrases used to describe natural burial are all about the ideology of the environmental movement but, in practice, it’s exactly what I want. It’s a route to the poetry of grass and bugs eating the shell that’s left after my consciousness is gone.
Having my body returned to the earth doesn’t change reality. I certainly don’t think I’m setting myself up for a second chance or honoring some otherworldly force. Even if I were to consider it paying some sort of tribute, which I don’t, any meaning I could see is completely of my own construction.
Still, I feel connected to this world. I’m in awe of the fact that I exist. And I have the hubris to think my existence matters. When I die, I want to be worm food because it seems poetic. Like a fitting end to my brief existence.
My Father-in-law died last year and wanted to be put overboard for sharks but it would have been illegal. It was purely for environmental reasons, if natural burial had been an option he would have taken that.
I’m torn, I hope I would leave my body to science. My grandmother was going to until a relative got upset but I think it’s wonderful. I know the difference between the anatomy in bodies and in books, I know which I would rather doctors learn on. But I’m also fascinated by having a future archaeologist dig me up and contributing to their knowledge of our time.
“Stiff” by Mary Roach is a good primer for someone thinking about WHAT to do. You’ll laugh, but it’s eye opening also.
I figure I’d like to go to med school, for free! But they have pretty big standards. Also, I don’t want to be used for plastic surgery practice. Frankly, I’d rather have plastic surgery while I’m still alive to enjoy it. SInce I can’t afford it… why should my corpse have the benefits?
I found this http://naturalburial.coop/USA/ The map doesn’t work, but the organization is under development There is even a natural cemetery not too far from where I live, nestled against the feet of the Blue Ridge mountains.
Natural burials are totally the way to go. I’m very familiar with Fernwood cemetery. I actually used to, er, “date” their former funeral director. ;)
The grounds are absolutely stunning and they are not only committed to natural burials, but preserving the native Californian plant life. By turning their land into a cemetery, they’ve effectively ensured that developers will never touch it; property value goes down once you bury people in it.
I plan to donate my body to science. Even if it is for a plastic surgeon to practice on, I wouldn’t mind. After all, there are things that, if I valued myself differently, I’d totally want to get altered on my body. I’m sure that if I was interested in getting a plastic surgery, I’d want a skilled surgeon doing it, who could practice before trying to alter a real person.
I think donating my body to science is just as poetic as allowing it to naturally feed the critters of the Earth. It is appealing, to me, to think that I could be one more rung in some great mind’s progress to discovery, even after I die. That some person may someday use me to better understand science in a way that saves lives; makes the world a better or more beautiful place. I like the possibility that I may be a brush stroke in a life that may create better methods for curing diseases or more deeply explore decomposition processes so that they may improve forensic science.
I try to live my life in a way that allows for the most positive impact possible. I was taught, as a child, that when you go camping, you leave the site in better condition than you found it so that it may be enjoyed by others. Leaving my body to science is a last motion to clean the campsite of my life, in the hopes that I could leave my portion of the world just a little better than I found it.
I guess I’m saying that to have even a fraction of an impact on the world as someone like Henrietta Lacks (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henrietta_Lacks) would be the most romantic post-demise fate that I can hope for. To have stretched the ripples I have created in my life out to countless people and to have extended my posterity to beyond just my genetic offspring, but to a world of nameless beneficiaries who never know my name, but honor my legacy through their confidence in science.
Deb – “But I’m also fascinated by having a future archaeologist dig me up and contributing to their knowledge of our time.”
I love that idea.
Sylvie and Kitty – Thanks for the info!
Sophie –
We may have different approaches but it sounds like you also have a poetic view of what can be done with your body after death. I think it’s interesting the meaning we can find without mysticism. What you said is quite beautiful.
Elizabeth McRae -
I haven’t had a chance to see Fernwood in person but the pictures of the site look beautiful.
Yes, I’m planning on donating myself to science…but Kitty’s comment about plastic surgery gives me pause!