I JUST listened to a young girl/man’s TEDtalk. It’s Saturday morning at the BIVOUAC and I am sitting on the deck enjoying the morning coffee. I usually “catch up” on the world outside of my place under the sun on Saturdays with the news and (uncle TED). I turned the page to a “death with dignity” head liner and well…because its been been swirling in my head lately. I’m an old guy who is coming to “just discover” his body may be breaking down. There are “issues.”
Anyway, back to the TEDtalk. The first impression was filled with hate. Can you imagine that gal/guy? Why is this Seattle tree hugger proposal person going about suggesting for us to compost a dead human body? Where do people like that come from? Really?… the dinner table conversation about dead people. Wasting a good college education on her/him’s drifting thoughts about composting dead humans when she/he was there studying to become an architect.
Then it happened! There was a short transition from a sales talk that flowed into the technical challenges of human decomposition. She/He mentioned cows. That did it! My farm boy gene kicked in and I started leaning forward and listening with a keen ear to what she/he was talking about.
What is this talk really now about to present? What is she/he really been working on? How far along in the process has she/he come? Who else is listening to this gal/guy? I too shared her/his light bulb moment …now. I will play the VID again and again, but first this BLOG before I lose what energy I have bouncing in this living brain of mine.
I went to the computer, logged in, and here I am starring at the beads that were rolled from the roses given to us during my mom’s funeral. AND tears once again showed their cleansing power. This is a good something. This gal/guy hit the nail in the coffin right on its self-righteous head. She/He is right! My mind went to the interview with the funeral director the day after my mom’s body left the hospital never to go see the yellow house on the corner again. The house she raised three boys in during the decade of the 70’s. The house dad took so good care of. The house my mom and her only husband lived in “until death did them part.” The house that fed us, clothed us, and cared for us when we were sick with the mumps and measles. Invited us to sit when we were tired. Rousted us into action. Left us in the dark. Shined in the daylight. Loved us when there was nothing left to do next during our times of trouble.
My mission? …to find this gal/guy. To hunt her/him down and start a journey of “last steps planning” instead of allowing another funeral director’s interview for this body of mine …that my loved ones left behind will be forced “by law” to endure. RLW