Monday, October 25, 2021

Since it’s Samhain / Halloween week...

Have you noticed that lots of organizations and individuals seem to think that keeping us in a constant state of crisis avoidance is to their benefit. I’m getting particularly annoyed by the invitations to ensure or secure my legacy by making provision in my will to continue donations after my demise. I think I understand why that’s important to some folks but my legacy is mostly walking around on two legs and I plan to let my living legacy decide how to use whatever I leave behind. In fact, on my more cranky days, I’m reminded of the old four-wheeler admonition to “leave no trace.”

Most of the preceding is my way of grumping about the very limited “green” options available in Minnesota for “environmentally friendly burials.” An organization we’ve supported for some years is offering an upcoming class in Death, Dying and Green Burials

In this workshop we will collaboratively examine the growing trend of reclaiming the naturalness of our death processes including embracing the dying journey, home vigils, family directed rituals and funerals, and options for green/environmentally friendly burials.

Having done some preliminary research on the limited options available, I’m waffling on whether there’s actual value in attending the workshop. But the resource listing is only part of the content.

The Minnesota Pollution Control Agency has a web page entitled “Grave Matters” that has some useful information and links. According to the Green Burial Council, there are only two GBC-certified cemeteries in Minnesota and only one funeral home. I think I’ve just convinced myself to sign up for the workshop to confirm the listing of resources is really as limited as it appears to be.

a reminder of remains to be disposed of
a reminder of remains to be disposed of
Photo by J. Harrington

All of the preceding has been triggered by the demise a little more than a week ago of the Better Half’s dog, Franco, plus someone recently posting on my Nextdoor timeline about the cost of cremation, and my recent efforts to donate three float tubes the Better Half and I haven’t used for years. There were no bids for them and I have my doubts about how quickly they might move in an estate sale. Without getting too anxious about it, I’d like to reduce the size of the headaches left behind for my descendants to tidy up. As with too many things in life, it appears that we’ve regulated and priced the hell out of departing it with few environmentally benign options affordable to most folks.


Haunted Houses


 - 1807-1882


All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;
Owners and occupants of earlier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,
And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapoursdense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,
And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar
Of earthly wants and aspirations high,
Come from the influence of an unseen star
An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud
Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light,
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd
Into the realm of mystery and night,—

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.



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