Americans are bad at talking about death, and it’s hurting the environment

The path to more eco-friendly burials starts with uncomfortable conversations about death

By Rachel Ashcroft

How often do you think about your own death? The answer is probably along the lines of “rarely, if ever.” Death denial is commonplace in the United States; indeed, in Western countries, people tend not to die at all, but “pass on” or “slip away” instead. Our own death, in particular, is something we try to avoid thinking about until we really have no choice in the matter.

This is perfectly understandable behavior. Thinking about death can be scary for many reasons, from fears about dying in pain to contemplating what happens after death. Longer lifespans and medical advances have made it easier to delay thinking about mortality. But death denial has many disadvantages, too. Avoidance can actually increase — not lessen — anxiety. We also risk leaving behind grieving loved ones who aren’t clear on our final wishes. Death denial is not just bad for individuals, either: There’s plenty of evidence to show that it is harmful to the environment, too.

Traditional funeral options are less than eco-friendly. In the U.S., some estimates suggest that cremation emits approximately 360,000 metric tons of CO2 each year. According to the Green Burial Council, heating a furnace at 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit for two hours produces roughly the same emissions as driving 500 miles in a car. Burials pose their own set of problems: Caskets and vaults use a large amount of natural resources. Casket wood alone requires the felling of 30 million board feet of wood in the U.S. each year, and thousands of tons of steel and concrete are used to construct vaults. Embalming fluid (which contains carcinogenic chemicals) can contaminate groundwater around cemeteries.

At a time when large corporations are regularly held to account for their green principles, the funeral industry is one of the few players to escape the scrutiny of its practices. A culture of death denial facilitates this situation. In a society where death is considered “morbid,” who wants to build their activism around something that most of us avoid discussing? Prominent figures like Greta Thunberg rarely venture into the murky world of deathcare. On Instagram, eco influencers are far more comfortable snapping pictures of avocado on toast than discussing the perils of embalming fluid.

Things weren’t always this way. In the early 1900s, Americans lived in close proximity to the dead and dying. Bedside vigils, in which the entire family gathered around a dying relative, were extremely common. Most people died in their home, leaving family members to prepare the body. Historians argue that this changed when end-of-life care moved to hospitals and funeral parlors began looking after dead bodies. Death became far less visible. When people today view an open casket, the corpse is altered so as to hide the physical effects of death. This evolution from death in close proximity to death being hidden and painted over has fueled a tendency toward death avoidance which, when compared to many other world cultures, is a complete anomaly.

Fortunately for our planet, change is on the horizon. Several environmentally-friendly deathcare options are springing up across the United States. From water burials to natural organic reduction or “human composting,” the green deathcare industry is taking root. But in order to fast forward the process of offering people legalized, eco-friendly deathcare choices, we have to talk more openly about death and dying to begin with.

In practical terms, avoiding death talk allows myths and assumptions about funeral care to flourish. Just over half of Americans choose cremation each year, partly due to a (false) perception that it’s good for the environment. Caitlin Doughty, a prominent mortician and “death positive” advocate, has also reported instances of bereaved families being informed that embalming is a legal requirement — it isn’t. No state requires embalming or even burial inside a vault. If you’ve lived your whole life trying to reduce your carbon footprint, understanding what is and isn’t legal can help make your death greener, too.

People often say they “want to be a tree” after they die. But when we don’t examine traditional deathcare closely enough, it’s easy to overlook the fact that ash from cremated remains doesn’t enrich soil, while traditional burial prevents bodies from mingling with the earth. Setting aside time to explore other funeral options reveals the different ways that our remains can help plants grow. “Green burial” generally describes an unembalmed body placed in a shroud or biodegradable coffin, which is lowered directly into the ground. This allows the body to decompose into the surrounding earth. No state laws forbid green burial, and a growing number of cemeteries are offering this service. Human composting uses a combination of microbes, oxygen, and organic matter to convert corpses directly into soil. It’s legal in Colorado, Oregon, and Washington, and bills are being considered in several other states.

There are some disadvantages to green deathcare. At the moment, price can be an issue. For society’s poorest, direct cremation (no viewing or visitation) costs as little as $1,000. Human composting, on the other hand, is priced between $7,000 to $10,000. There may also be religious issues pertaining to human remains; Washington’s legalization of human composting was opposed by Catholic groups who argued that composting didn’t show enough respect for the deceased body.

However, green deathcare will only become more affordable and widespread (for those who want it) if we learn how to talk about death in the first place. Of course, it can initially be uncomfortable to think about ourselves turning into ash or soil. But having as much information as possible about a topic is always empowering — even when it comes to your own death.

Complete Article HERE!

A New Take on Death and Dying

In “The Future of the Corpse,” co-editors Karla Rothstein and Christina Staudt review the spectrum of death and offer ideas for change.

Christina Staudt, left, and Karla Rothstein are co-editors of “The Future of the Corpse.”

By Eve Glasberg

Around the globe, roughly 165,000 people die every day. The Neanderthals were the first human species to bury their dead, entombing them with stone tools, animal bones, and other artifacts in shallow graves.

The Future of the Corpse: Changing Ecologies of Death and Disposition, edited by architect and GSAPP Professor Karla Rothstein, founder and director of the GSAPP DeathLAB, and Christina Staudt, co-chair of the Columbia University Seminar on Death, reviews the spectrum of death.

American society today is in a pivotal period for reimagining end-of-life care, funerary services, human disposition methods, memorializing, and mourning. The book’s editors and contributors outline the past, present, and future of death care rituals, pointing to promising new practices and projects that better integrate the dying and dead with the living, and create positive change that supports sustainable stewardship of the environment.

Rothstein and Staudt discuss the book with Columbia News, as well as what it was like to collaborate on the volume, and who they would invite to a joint party.

Q. What was the impetus behind this book?

Karla Rothstein: After discovering my graduate architectural design studio syllabi online a decade ago, Christina invited me to present to and then join the University Seminar on Death. In 2016 the seminar and GSAPP DeathLAB jointly organized a daylong colloquium—Designing for Life and Death—which brought academics and industry stakeholders together to probe New York City’s relationship with death, corpse disposition, and the potential for new forms and civic-sacred space. This book contains chapters by many of the colloquium’s interdisciplinary panelists, sharing their expertise on the complex and evolving aspects of dying, death, and remembrance.

Christina Staudt: The colloquium produced so many substantive and thoughtful ideas that we felt compelled to bring the content to a larger audience in a comprehensive volume on postmortem issues.

Q. What are some of the innovative projects and practices in the book that better integrate the dying and dead with the living, and create positive change supporting sustainable stewardship of the environment?

KR: Many cemeteries across the globe are facing dire limits on burial space. Cemeteries are cultural assets and provide crucial open space in dense cities, but the American expectation of a burial plot in perpetuity for each individual is at odds with the density and spatial limits of urbanity. The resource consumption of prevailing casketing and cremation practices are also considered wasteful by those prioritizing ecological impact.

Cemeteries can serve their current communities through new, sustainable forms of corpse disposition that engage the body biologically, and contribute to enduring civic-sacred spaces supporting grief and remembrance. We and others are developing mortuary options that are gentle on the earth while also remaining proximate to where we live.

CS: A growing rejection of embalmment and resource-intensive coffins among environmentally conscious families parallels a movement toward direct disposition—i.e., the body is moved from the deathbed directly to the burial site. More time is spent with the deceased at the site of death—where the family washes and cares for the body—rather than having the corpse whisked away to a funeral home. Individualized rituals and services that reflect the character of the deceased, often planned in advance with family and loved ones, occur by the deathbed and the place of final disposition. Advocates of green burial are leading the way.

Q. How has COVID accelerated and highlighted the need to address the changing death-care landscape?

KR: Never before in our lifetimes has death been so present. Society has a desperate need for spaces of healing—from the traumas of COVID, as well as other forms of grief and grievances, including confronting and repairing racial, environmental, and economic injustices. Civil and dignified contexts are crucial to societal care. A sense of community and ritual are important scaffolds around life’s transitions, and we need options and practices commensurate with current individual values and planetary priorities. Relative to just a decade ago, the public interest and willingness to engage in discussions of death and disposition are truly remarkable.

CS: The sheer volume of pandemic fatalities alone would have forced healthcare industries and the funerary complex (funeral directors, crematories, and cemeteries) to retool their practices, but the necessity to isolate because of COVID has been a stronger impetus to change. Telemedicine, deathbed goodbyes on Facebook, Zoom funeral planning, livestreaming and recording of funerary services, and online memorializing have all advanced exponentially, and are here to stay.

The social inequities of the pandemic, with much higher death rates for the poor and minorities, has added urgency to our need to address systemic change.

Q. What was it like to produce a book together?

KR: We both have high standards, and we’ve earned each other’s trust and respect. We have different styles: We’re both pragmatic idealists, but Christina is perhaps more straightforward, and I sometimes tend toward the poetic. We complement one another well.

CS: The collaborative process was pleasantly smooth. Karla and I hardly ever disagreed. Rather than feeling I was compromising my position in discussions about the book, I found that our dialogues gave me new insights and expanded perspectives.

Q. Have you read any books lately that you would recommend, and why?

CS: In Notes on Grief, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie shares her experience after the death of her father during the pandemic. She allows her pain and reactions to emerge on the page with compelling power. Her suffering, questioning, search for meaning, and desire to honor her deceased father touch on themes common in bereavement—the bodily sensation of grief, the failure and support of rituals, the need for time and space alone and for community. Her dual project of memorializing and finding a way to live with grief is a gift to the reader.

KR: I would add Elizabeth Kolbert’s recently published Under a White Sky. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s a continuation of her excellent research and writing on the impacts we humans have wrought on the planet, and I reference her earlier The Sixth Extinction regularly. Taking responsibility for the consequences connected to our actions is a timeless ethical imperative.

Q. You’re both hosting a dinner party. Which three academics or scholars, dead or alive, would you invite, and why?

CS: With no restrictions to the invitation list, I will aim high: It would be a treat to reunite the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, so they can continue their charming lunch banter, recounted in their The Book of Joy— Lasting Happiness in a Changing World. As a foil to these two “mischievous” (as they describe themselves in the book), male faith leaders, I will invite a female atheist who can match their wit, perhaps the Barnard graduate Zora Neale Hurston, or maybe the early women’s rights leader, Ernestine Rose, said to possess “a rare sense of humor.”

We may end up touching on postmortem issues directly, but no matter where the talk leads, mortality remains foundational to human life and is never fully absent.

KR: My days are overflowing with teaching, research, and the building projects of my architecture practice, so I would be thrilled to participate in this exceptional evening!

Complete Article HERE!

Life after living

— pet-loss professionals help people work through their grief

By Tracey Tong

When her beloved golden retriever Shelle died of kidney disease, Sharon Van Noort didn’t get to make the final arrangements. “I wasn’t told where she went, and what was done with her body,” she says – just that she’d be taken care of. “Back then, it wasn’t acknowledged that families needed care too.” Without closure, Van Noort continues to grieve her companion – 33 years later.

“Taking the time needed to say goodbye, and having a veterinarian who truly understands the importance of the cherished pet, make a huge difference in moving forward through the grieving process,” says Faith Banks, a certified hospice and palliative-care veterinarian and pet-loss professional in the West End. “If grief is not processed and worked through, it sits and waits for the next opportunity to strike.”

Through the experiences of other pet owners, Van Noort found a way to right a wrong. Six years ago, Helen Hobbs, co-founder of the pet funeral service Pets at Peace Toronto, licensed her business and Van Noort opened Pets at Peace North in Orillia.

Faith Banks and Faithful Pet Memorial offer nose prints of deceased pets, as well as teeth, fur, paw prints and bags of ashes

“Making funeral arrangements can give closure, which is so important,” says Van Noort, who has 25 years’ experience as a respite provider in the children’s mental health field. Like Hobbs and Banks, Van Noort looks after bereaved families as much as she cares for their pets.

Banks, who founded Midtown Mobile Veterinary Hospice Services in 2012, heads an all-female team of 20 veterinarians, hospice-care coordinators and aftercare providers. She opened Faithful Pet Memorial, a division of MMVHS, in February.

Faithful Pet Memorial is the first Toronto facility to offer pet aquamation, a water-based cremation process that, Banks says, has become “increasingly popular as concern for the environment grows.” Compared to flame-based cremation, aquamation uses 90 percent less energy, leaves one-tenth the carbon footprint and does not produce fossil fuels, greenhouse gases or mercury.

Faith Banks and Faithful Pet Memorial offer nose prints of deceased pets, as well as teeth, fur, paw prints and bags of ashes.

From their respective locations, Hobbs and Van Noort have provided aftercare services for a variety of pets – dogs, cats, reptiles, rodents, fish, birds, even domesticated farm animals – some species of which are not accommodated at other companies. As part of their jobs, they see a lot of grieving families. “Clients have disclosed to me that the death of their pet has affected them emotionally more than the passing of an extended family member,” says Van Noort.

Banks has encountered similar expressions. “Many people,” she says, “will tell me their relationship with their pet is purer, far less complicated and much more fulfilling than with certain family members. For some, it is akin to losing a child.”

Faith Banks and Faithful Pet Memorial offer nose prints of deceased pets, as well as teeth, fur, paw prints and bags of ashes.

The pet-loss experience is nearly universal, says Van Noort, and most people “have a story to share.” And she is happy to listen. “I encourage them to tell me about their pet and show me photos. Even if I had not cared for their pet, they can call me anytime to have a chat. There is a staff member at a local veterinary clinic who will often call me on behalf of a client who is having difficulty processing their pet’s death or impending death. If I am able to help, I feel honoured to be of assistance.”

Van Noort also gets referrals from past clients and friends. Most times, she hears from them after the pets have already died, but more owners are pre-planning. “They know their pet is elderly or very ill,” she says, “and they want to know ahead of time what their options are.”

Faith Banks and Faithful Pet Memorial offer nose prints of deceased pets, as well as teeth, fur, paw prints and bags of ashes.

As with any type of aftercare service, each day at Pets at Peace is different. Van Noort offers numerous options: preparation for burial at a pet cemetery of their choice, where a marker can be erected; or individual or communal cremation. Pet parents can also request to have ashes returned in an urn or a less traditional product, such as a pewter keychain urn, or in ash-infused glass jewelry. Even if a family chooses communal cremation, they can still have a clay paw print created. Although she is careful not to make any suggestions, Van Noort says that these memorial items usually become treasured possessions.

Set to retire after 19 years, Hobbs is preparing to close Pets at Peace Toronto at the end of the month. Van Noort, who says she has also reached “retirement age,” has no plans to leave the business: “I can’t think of not doing one of the things that is so rewarding for me and important for pet families.”

Faith Banks and Faithful Pet Memorial offer nose prints of deceased pets, as well as teeth, fur, paw prints and bags of ashes.

The death of her 12-year-old German shepherd/husky mix Spud in 2021 confirmed her dedication to her work. “I provided Spud’s aftercare, grooming his paws, doing ink paw prints and preparing him for transportation to the crematorium,” says Van Noort, who also has a 14-year-old border collie, Rider. “I realized I hadn’t provided him with any different type of care than I would provide to the pets entrusted to me. I wouldn’t want any less for others as I would have for myself.”

Complete Article HERE!

Pre-planning instead of pre-paying for your funeral

A recent cost figure for a standard funeral home service was set at $7,000 to $12,000.

By Community Advocate Staff

The Boston-based Funeral Consumers Alliance of Eastern Massachusetts ― which has a lot of credibility because it is a non-profit, all-volunteer, educational consumer organization ― offers a nicely rhymed pamphlet titled, “Before I go, you should know.” And yes, it’s about a subject almost everyone tiptoes carefully around—our own demise.

Its subject, of course, is “everything” family and friends should know when planning a funeral. It also addresses the issue of prepaid funeral plans. Should you have one or not?

Pros and cons

There are arguments for it. Mainly made by representatives of the industry, such as the National Funeral Directors Association (NFDA). “You know what it’s going to cost. You are paying for your own funeral. So, you know what services you want, and that you’ll get them,” said Linda Earl, a spokesperson for NFDA and a funeral director with 38 years of experience.

There are other reasons as well. Pre-paying offers inflation protection. The cost will not go up. The money can go into an account only accessible on an individual’s death, available with a minimum of formalities.

Another important reason: sparing a family from hard choices during a difficult time.

“It also helps those who are left behind to grieve and to heal. They have so many decisions to make in a very short time period such as even finding a funeral home, and others,” Earl said.

Of course, there are disadvantages. Consumer groups cite them.

“We definitely suggest people not pay in advance but to plan in advance,” said Paula Chasan, membership secretary for the Funeral Consumers Alliance of Eastern Massachusetts. The organization cites other issues, such as funeral homes going out of business prior to a planned future funeral date, among other reasons. Instead, it recommends practices such as an interest-bearing bank savings account for a funeral in lieu of prior payments.

Family care used to be common

In the history of funerals in early day America, they almost always involved care by families. Most people died at home. All that changed dramatically during the Civil War when hundreds of thousands of men died at unexpected young ages, often far from home. Smaller funeral parlors emerged, followed by national companies. But there were some instances of consumer abuses, sometimes endured by relatives using poor judgment and distracted by their losses. Funeral expenses also mounted.

A recent cost figure for a standard funeral home service was set at $7,000 to $12,000. Customary services included embalming, caskets, viewing and service fees, among others. That figure did not even include costs for a cemetery, monument, marker and other expenses such as flowers.

The NFDA reported that the national median cost of a funeral with a viewing and burial in 2021 was about $7,848. NFDA median figures for a funeral with cremation: $6,971.

Due to cost and environmental considerations, cremation numbers last year in the U.S. were projected to be 57.5 percent, while the burial rate was 36.6 percent, according to NFDA’s 2021 “Cremation and Burial Report.”

Cremation, while costing less, also offers greater flexibility. Cremated remains may be buried or scattered at a family’s convenience. They may also be incorporated into various art forms, placed in coral reef balls or even shot into space. On the other hand, cremations at temperatures of up to 1700 degrees also create a variety of air pollutants.

The so-called “Green burial” has gained a significant toehold as another choice. It uses only biodegradable materials. There is no embalming. Instead, a body is placed in a biodegradable container, such as a cardboard container and placed directly into the earth rather than a concrete outer burial container. The practice helps protect land preservation and restoration. In fact, it goes back to the Civil War days as a common practice.

Funeral homes offer all types of services

“Times are changing,” says the website at Boston’s Casper Funeral & Cremation Services. “While full, traditional funerals will always be sought and available, more and more individuals and families are turning to pre-planning a combination of cremation and a meaningful celebration-of-life ‘service’ or an eco-friendly green burial.”

Owner Joe Casper’s facility is similar to others in offering all types of services, but he said cremation has been growing in popularity. He offers what is believed to be the lowest cremation price in the state: The “simplicity” service for $1395. “There are no other costs, and no hidden or other fees,” he said. It is illegal for funeral homes in Massachusetts to operate crematories, so the price also includes the use of licensed crematories in the state.

Planning for your own funeral to maintain control, get lower prices and not get cheated is not an idea expressed just by consumer groups. It’s almost a universal notion.

“More and more people today are choosing to pre-plan their own or a loved one’s funeral as an alternative to having others make the decisions for them,” said the National Funeral Directors Association on its web site.

But other consumer groups, such as the national Funeral Consumers Alliance, make the point that not paying beforehand is a good practice in part because of another reason: possible dishonest practices.

Jim Couchon, a trustee and vice president of the Funeral Consumers Alliance of Western Massachusetts, can cite various abuses, such as a Boston man whose pre-paid funeral cost several thousand dollars. When he died, the funeral home could find no record of it. But the issue was resolved when a cancelled check was found.

“No. that’s not common. But the family was upset about it. And you don’t want it to happen to you,” he said.

Complete Article HERE!

After death – what?

Most modern funeral practices don’t do much good for the planet. Manuela Callari takes a look at what happens, scientifically speaking, if nature is allowed to take its course after we die, and emerging options that soften our carbon footprint after our exit.

By MANUELA CALLARI

Overlooking the coastal sandstone cliffs south of Sydney’s CBD, gravestones in Waverley Cemetery stand like sentinels, aligned like a military parade. A Yulan magnolia grows out of the grave of a post World War II Italian migrant, at rest since 7 May 1977. It’s as if it is drawing its sustenance from the deceased.

Life depends on death – a circle that has been going on forever. Saplings grow out of rotting trees, and marine carcasses provide a bounty of nutrients for deep water organisms.

When creatures die, they decompose and become the nutrients that other life forms need to flourish. But most humans end up embalmed and buried, or cremated. Are the rituals we have created messing with this cycle of life?

Some think so. “Green death” trends have emerged in the funeral industry to respond to people’s growing concerns around the ecological burden of traditional burial practices.

The science of human decomposition

First, what happens when a body decomposes out in the open? A little warning here is due: this is not a story for the squeamish. When you die, your heart no longer pumps blood through your veins. Gravity draws the blood towards the ground, where it settles. Your lungs stop functioning, which means you’re not breathing in oxygen or expelling carbon dioxide. As carbon dioxide builds up and dissolves in the pooling blood, it begins to form carbonic acid, which dissociates into bicarbonate and hydrogen ions, making the blood acidic.

Simultaneously, enzymes involved in your cells’ metabolism throughout life begin to digest the cells’ membrane, which, combined with a decreased blood pH, causes cells to rupture and spill out their guts. “Everything starts to break apart,” says Dr Maiken Ueland, a researcher at the Centre for Forensic Science and the deputy director of the Australian Facility for Taphonomic Experimental Research (AFTER) at the University of Technology Sydney.

When your cells begin to crumble, they release nutrients that the human microbiome – all the bacteria, fungi and viruses and other microbiota living in you – love to gobble up, literally eating your body from inside out.

Your microbiome helps digest food and keeps your immune system in good shape throughout life. But when you’re dead, your immune system shuts down, and all of a sudden, trillions of microorganisms have free rein.

The microbiota break down carbohydrates, proteins and lipids, producing liquids and volatile organic compounds as byproducts. These build up inside your abdomen and make you look bloated. After three days of decomposition, these compounds release, causing a distinctive “death” smell. Carbon dioxide, methane, and ammonia gasses are among the contributors. Hydrogen sulphide, also present in farts when you’re alive, plays a critical role. But putrescine and cadaverine, which are formed from the breakdown of amino acids, are the biggest culprits.

Ueland, who studies forensic taphonomy – the process of corpse decomposition – says the gasses emitted from the body as it breaks down attract more fungi, bacteria, worms, insects and scavengers to the banquet. A decomposing body creates a remarkably complex ecosystem, which taphonomers call the necrobiome.

Blowflies are generally early comers. They start to lay eggs from which maggots hatch within 24 hours. One blowfly can lay about 250 eggs, so if a few hundred blowflies lay eggs, there are soon tens of thousands of hungry maggots crawling on your body, ready to contribute to the decomposition process. Larvae consume the soft tissue first, says Ueland. Then the skin falls apart, and all that is left is your skeleton, which will continue to break down for decades.

As the feast goes on, more nutrients are released into the surrounding environment. For every kilogram of dry body mass, a human body naturally decomposing will eventually release 32g of nitrogen, 10g of phosphorus, 4g of potassium, and 1g of magnesium. So an average 70kg live human body, which consists of 50–75% of dry body mass, would release roughly 1,400g of nitrogen, 434g of phosphorus, 174g of potassium and 43g of magnesium after death.

Taphonomers call this puddle of nutrients around a body “the cadaver decomposition island”. Initially, some of the vegetation in this island dies off, possibly because of nitrogen toxicity. But as the nutrients are further digested by bacteria within the island they act as fertilisers, transforming the island into a vegetation oasis.

After death what

Death 1.0: the industrial age

In a typical burial, the body is embalmed and put in a coffin made of oak or elm. The wooden capsule is buried about two metres underground, possibly under a slab of concrete. Formaldehyde is often used as an embalming fluid. It bonds proteins and DNA in the cells together so tightly that the microbiome can’t break it down, preventing tissue from decomposing for decades.

Even if a body isn’t embalmed, the coffin in which it lies hinders the natural decomposition process, and the nutrients released are not easily accessible to the microorganisms and scavengers in the soil.

If you’re not keen on burial, you can always choose to be cremated. Since the 1950s, cremation has become more popular than burial, with about 70% of Australians opting for it. But cremation, too, cuts the circle of life and death short. It transforms a body into mainly three things: ash, water vapour and a lot of carbon dioxide. Not only will cremated bodies not fertilise any vegetation oases, burning them up is far from sustainable.

Aquamation is the fire-free alternative to cremation. All that’s left is a tea-like solution that’s good for plants

According to the Department of the Environment and Energy, a modern cremator uses the equivalent of 40 litres of petrol for an average body. An older crematorium furnace can consume up to twice that amount of fuel.

Cremating a dead body releases about 50kg of carbon dioxide and a bunch of toxins into the atmosphere. And the carbon footprint doesn’t end at the crematorium door.

“What about the 100 people driving to the crematorium, then driving back to Uncle Bob’s house to have a barbecue?” says Kevin Hartley, founder and director of Earth Funeral. “And what about all the catering and all the energy and bits that go into it?”

Hartley estimates that at a typical, small-size cremation and funeral, the event can release up to one tonne of carbon dioxide – the equivalent of driving a petrol car for six months. Fifty trees have to grow for one year to capture just one tonne of carbon dioxide emissions.

Death 2.0: the eco-age

An interest in pared-down, eco-friendly, end-of-life options has grown, ranging from biodegradable pods that turn a body into a tree, to mushroom burial suits that devour dead tissues.

“There’s a whole suite of alternative technologies in this space,” says Dr Hannah Gould, a cultural anthropologist with the DeathTech Research Team at the University of Melbourne. “But alkaline hydrolysis and natural organic reduction are the major alternatives that have legs.”

Alkaline hydrolysis, also known by the catchier name of “aquamation”, is the fire-free alternative to cremation. It produces less than 10% of the carbon emissions of traditional cremation, doesn’t release toxins, and generates nutrient-rich water.

After death what
Give and take: Eco-friendly after death practises that give back are the subject of many start-ups. The Capsula Mundi, above, is an Italian-designed biodegradable casket above which you can plant, and nourish, a young tree. Memory Gardens, such as this one in Le Bono, France, offer the option of depositing ashes under different trees in a headstone-free green space.

The body is placed in a pressure vessel filled with an alkaline water solution of potassium hydroxide or sodium hydroxide or a combination of both, with a pH of 14. The solution is stirred and heated to about 160°C at high pressure to prevent boiling.

In a few hours, the body breaks down into its chemical components. All that’s left is a tea-like solution that is very good for plants, so family can take home the sediment of minerals for scattering.

“The environmental footprint of alkaline hydrolysis is much less than cremation and much, much, less than conventional burial in a graveyard,” says Professor Michael Arnold, a historian and philosopher with the DeathTech Research Team.

According to a report by the Netherlands Organisation for Applied Scientific Research (TNO), the estimated environmental cost for disposal of the dead is about $102 for a burial, $77 for cremation, and $4.15 for alkaline hydrolysis. “It’s a huge factor,” says Arnold.

Aquamation is legal in Australia but not widely available. There are only a handful of companies that offer the service, and, Arnold says, the practice remains little known by most. It was recently in the spotlight after the death of South African archbishop Desmond Tutu, who requested his remains be aquamated. Arnold hopes Tutu’s choice will increase the practice’s popularity.

The other alternative is natural organic reduction, or human composting. The body is placed into a vessel with a mix of soil, wood chips, straw and alfalfa. Microbial activity stimulates decomposition. Within about four weeks, the result is around 760 litres of humus. Family members are welcome to keep some of it; the rest is used as a fertiliser. The world’s first human composting company opened its doors in Seattle, US, at the end of 2020 and has since expanded to four states, but human composting isn’t yet legal in Australia.

The regulatory approval path of a new way to dispose of corpses is tedious. But appealing to the mass market remains the biggest challenge – eco-friendly body disposal is still a niche market.

“People who might want to pick these options tend to be those who are pretty concerned about the environment, who are into sustainability, alternative lifestyle, are a bit hippie,” says Gould. “But there is also a growing cultural desire to return nutrients to the earth.”

Arnold agrees. “A lot of people think that the body is something to be disposed of without much fuss, and cremation is appealing for that reason,” he says. “A smaller group of people think of the body as a resource rather than a waste – a resource that can and should be utilised by other living beings.”

In recent years, natural burial grounds have gained some popularity. Here, the body is buried without embalming in the topsoil, in a softwood or cardboard coffin or a shroud. Usually, there is no gravestone or headstone. Only about 2% of people opt for a natural burial.

Restoration burial grounds

Hartley had worked in funeral services for 15 years when someone asked what his plans were for his body after death. “Being reasonably young, I hadn’t really thought about it,” he says.

It was then that he began to ponder the environmental impact of the furnace he
had operated for so many years, and began to question whether that was indeed what he wanted his final act to be.

Hartley began to contemplate taking natural burial to the next level. “Restoration burial grounds is the term that we favour,” he says.

His not-for-profit organisation plans to convert pieces of distressed land, such as overused farmland on the edges of cities, to burial grounds that offset the cost of burial by “multiple times”.

The bodies will nourish and fertilise the barren land, restoring the native Australian bush. That, in turn, will attract native wildlife and, eventually, the land will be managed like a national park.

Regular natural burial grounds might offset the carbon cost of a burial, but being carbon neutral is no longer enough, Hartley says.

“We put the Earth bank account into deficit,” he says. “We are way overdrawn. We want to put back into the planet.

“Death is part of life. Everything is cyclic. We’re interested in the restoration of the nexus between death and life for people and have a genuine return to the earth.”

It’s a plan that might revolutionise the look of Australian cemeteries – rows of gravestones giving way to Australian native forests buzzing with wildlife.

Complete Article HERE!

Dying to be green

— Are mushroom coffins the secret to an eco-friendly death?

by Thomas Page

Fungi are not fussy diners. Cardboard, plastic, jet fuel and asbestos — fungi will devour them all. In 2007, scientists studying Chernobyl’s blighted landscape discovered a fungus capable of “eating” radiation. It almost goes without saying, then, that fungi have little trouble decomposing us.

Dutch inventor Bob Hendrikx is harnessing the power of fungi by using mycelium — vast webs of fungal threads that normally live underground — as an alternative to traditional wooden coffins. His environmentally friendly “living coffin,” he says, is not only carbon negative to grow, but decomposes in six weeks, rather than the 20 years it can take for a regular wooden coffin. The coffin also gets to work decomposing the body, speeding up the process by which nature can absorb the nutrients of the deceased.

Hendrikx’s company Loop is not the first to hitch itself to the eco-hearse. Cremated human remains can be placed in pods to grow trees or cast into artificial coral reefs, while coffins made from wicker, macramé and cardboard are all on the market. Woodland burials, where coffins and clothing are made from all-natural materials, are also experiencing a resurgence. And when actor Luke Perry died in 2019 he was buried in a “mushroom suit” designed to help decompose his body. But using mycelium to enclose the body in a “living coffin” is a novel approach.

The motivation is simple: some funeral practices are bad for the environment. In the US alone over 4 million gallons of embalming fluid are used every year for burials, according to the non-profit Green Burial Council. Embalming fluid contains toxic ingredients such as formaldehyde, which can leach into the ground.

Cremation has its own issues, releasing considerable amounts of carbon into the atmosphere and possibly heavy metals if present in the body (the US Environmental Protection Agency calculated that nearly 2 tons of mercury, found in dental fillings, were emitted by human cremations in 2014).

“What really frustrates me is that when I die, I’m polluting the Earth. I’m waste,” says Hendrikx. He describes the body as a “walking trash bin of 219 chemicals” even before factoring in the metals, wood and glue typically used in coffins.

“Our current burial processes lead to material depletion, soil pollution and CO2 emissions,” he adds. “We created a super-industrial process for one of the most natural processes on Earth.”

But given the right treatment, the body becomes “a beautiful bag of compost.” Mushrooms, Hendrikx says, “are known as the world’s largest recycler,” turning dead organic matter into new plant life. “Why are we not using this?”

Loop’s “Living Cocoon” is comprised of lab-cultivated mycelium, woodchips and secret ingredients, placed in a mold and grown into a coffin shape over the course of a week. Once completed, moss — full of microorganisms — is packed into the bottom, onto which the body is laid. Once the structure comes in contact with damp soil the mycelium comes to life and the process begins.

Loop has partnered with biomaterials pioneers Ecovative to test the product, which Hendrikx says will decompose in 45 days. “It’s not gone,” he adds, “because it’s then working on your body.” He says calculations made by Loop with expert input indicate a corpse will fully decompose in two to three years.

The coffin, which is manufactured in Delft, is on sale for €1,495 ($1,700). Joerg Vieweg, an owner of funeral homes in Germany, is one of Hendrikx’s customers. Vieweg says the mycelium coffin is “a good example of how to achieve something ecologically with little change in the tradition of farewell.”

“(It) does not fundamentally change the process and traditions (of preparing a body for burial),” he adds, which makes burial in a mycelium coffin more socially acceptable.

To date around 100 burials have been conducted with the Living Cocoon in the Netherlands, Germany and Belgium, says Hendrikx. He says laws in some European countries are more favorable for the coffin than others. “It’s a super-conservative market,” he adds, “the same as it’s ever been.”

“The challenge at this moment is how can we convince families to organize a sustainable funeral?” she adds. “Consumers are not aware of (sustainable funeral options), because the problem is, how many times do you organize a funeral? There’s only once or twice in your life that you’re responsible.”

Van Haastert says funeral companies in the Netherlands are now training their employees to discuss climate-neutral options with bereaved families, and she hopes new legislative guidelines will be introduced for alternative funerals.

While she describes Loop’s product as “niche” at present, she speculates that “within five years (people) will ask more for these kinds of coffins.”

Hendrikx believes he’s found a positive solution, and as Loop looks to expand, it aims to create coffins using fungi samples local to their final destination to ensure they have optimal environmental impact. “Instead of doing a bad thing, or less bad thing (after death), you can actually do something good,” he says, making the case for his invention.

Vieweg believes the funeral industry is “facing a tremendous change of paradigm.”

“People are creative and look(ing) for sustainable solutions to protect our environment,” she says. “The rituals that have been lived up to now will also survive and new ones will develop. To experience this process is exciting and challenging.”

Complete Article HERE!

The Denver ‘death companion’ making space for queer grief

Desiree Celeste works in Denver as a death companion focused on helping the LGBTQ+ community process death and grief.

by Corbett Stevenson

When Desiree Celeste begins to feel emotional while discussing the death of their grandmother, they refuse to apologize — instead, they make space to explore and feel the depths of their grief. 

“I’m not sorry, actually. I will be mourning her for the rest of my life,” said Celeste, who uses they/them pronouns.

Celeste said that their grandma “always was and always will be” their best friend. When she died after a three year stay in hospice, the emotional care Celeste and their family received was lacking.

“Her death almost killed me, that’s how deep my grief was,” they said. “Don’t get me wrong, the hospice workers were amazing, they did a great job. But I was still left feeling like I needed more. I needed someone outside of that group that could hold space for me and my grief.”

Now, years later, Celeste has built themself into the companion they sorely needed in those dark moments. 

Celeste works as a death companion. Also known as a death doula or a death midwife, death companions dedicate themselves to supporting people as they experience grief and death. They can help make funeral arrangements, answer questions about death and dying, organize euthanasia for pets, help process grief years after an event and much more. 

Celeste’s trusty notebook, covered in stickers discussing death and dying. 

Although Celeste officially started their work in 2021, they said they’ve been doing some forms of death companionship for most of their life.

“At pet stores I used to take home animals that smelled like death … that I knew would die. I took them home so I could care for them and make sure they didn’t die alone,” they said.

But everything truly came to a head when Celeste lost their grandmother. On top of the grief of losing their best friend, they never had a chance to come out to her as nonbinary, which added a unique and terrible pain to Celeste’s experience. 

“I never came out to my grandma, she never knew who I really was,” they said.

Influenced by that pain, Celeste is a death companion focused on providing services to other LGBTQ+ individuals, for whom death and grief can be exceptionally difficult.

“I worked with a client once to help them organize an at-home euthanasia for their pet. They identified as transgender, and were terrified of reaching out to veterinarians because of their fear of being mis-gendered,” Celeste said. “Talking to the vet, picking up the ashes and even getting the body cremated are all opportunities where they could have been mis-gendered, so I acted as a barrier and shielded them from that pain.”

In another instance, Celeste worked with another transgender client who was the primary caregiver for an individual who had died. Living in a conservative and rural area, it was unsafe for the client to come out, and so they would be facing funeral directors, doctors and other professionals as someone they weren’t.

“When someone is experiencing grief, they’re already so fragile. It’s not fair to have to hide who you are while going through that, so I was there to offer emotional support and be someone who knew what was really going on,” they said. “It’s really important to have someone to explore those feelings with without hiding anything.”

A promotional flyer created for Celeste’s Queer Grief Gatherings. 

One of the most important aspects of their work is the unique variety of care Celeste offers as a death companion. 

“The important thing to remember is that it’s not either/or — you can work with hospice and social workers and still need the support of a death companion,” they said. “When people are experiencing the anxiety that comes with death, they need to feel safe. I’m here to offer a vast and flexible variety of services to help with that.”

Starting in February, Celeste began to offer virtual processing spaces for those who identify as queer. The goal of those spaces, they said, is to offer space and time to talk about death and grief in all its forms. 

“When I started my work, I wasn’t focusing on queer clients, but over time I think my clients began to see a piece of themselves in me, and they just started to gravitate towards me.” they said. “A death companion’s care is truly unique, I strive to meet people wherever they’re at.”

Complete Article HERE!