Tag Archives: afterlife

Death and burial used to be pretty straight forward:

You died.

They buried you (or maybe tossed your ashes to the wind).

They said a few words and got on with life.

The end.

Short and sweet.

Today there’s a plethora of creative ways to orchestrate your final exit.

Be One with the Earth

You can go with a “natural” burial, which involves being put directly in the soil in a way that promotes or even accelerates decomposition.

Here’s an interesting tidbit: Luke Perry of 90210 fame was buried in a mushroom burial suit containing mushroom spores that helped decompose his body and filter toxins from it.

The filtering and decomposition from a mushroom suit prevent surrounding plant life from being contaminated by the body. Not that Luke was any more contaminated than you or I.

I see natural burials as a form of human recycling, which I imagine is popular with the environmentally conscious – but I can also hear my conservative, non-environmentally conscious uncle quipping, “When I go, just put me out with the recyclables.”  

I suspect the squeamish might be put off by microbial decomposition, but I’m okay with it. It feels both altruistic and symbiotic.

People who choose this type of burial seem to be saying, “I’m no more important than the petunias” and “I don’t need to be memorialized with a headstone or plaque” – and as a humanist, that philosophy resonates with me. 

Be Above it All

Don’t want to be put in the ground? Then maybe a space burial is for you. 

Space burials launch your remains into space, where they orbit around the Earth or go to the Moon or somewhere further into space. Space burials even include cheaper “suborbital” excursions where the human remains are briefly transported into space before returning to Earth, where (hopefully) they can be recovered. 

To me, space burials seem braggadocios and sadly pathetic. 

“No, I’m not an astronaut – I’m an accountant. But I’m planning on being an astronaut after I die. So, yeah, I’m kinda like the Neil Armstrong of accounting.” 

I feel there’s an element of cowardice to space burials. It’s like being an astronaut without any of the risk. And from an ego perspective, space burials check all the boxes. They scream, “Look at me; I am one with the heavens! I AM A GOD!

Be Around Forever

The most fascinating alternative burial, at least to me, isn’t a burial at all.

The diamond growth process uses high-pressure technology to turn human ashes into diamonds for wearable “cremation jewelry.”

For anyone who isn’t religious but still wishes for eternal life, the diamond growth process puts a new spin on the old adage “diamonds are forever.” 

Personally, I have no delusions about an afterlife. As soon as I developed the ability to think critically, religion and eternal life registered as complete bullshit. I believe when you’re dead – you’re dead. Everything fades to black, and you cease to exist, except in the memories of loved ones – and even that is short-lived.

We’re all destined to fade away entirely, like the billions of ordinary people before us, who no one remembers – we will eventually be totally and irrevocably gone. And honestly, the thought of that doesn’t bother me in the least.

But something about an ashes to diamond after-life appeals to me. I like the idea of being an object amongst the living long after I’m dead – and even though I know I won’t be conscious or aware of this existence, the idea of it, as a living human being, interests me. 

Is that weird?

And being a ring on the finger or broach on the collar of a loved one might be a pretty cool icebreaker at a cocktail party.

What a lovely ring, where did you get it? Well, my dad gave it to me when he died – something to remember him by. And actually . . . 

I like the idea of being an heirloom passed down from generation to generation and remaining in the mix. And if someone in the future lineage of my family falls on hard times, and I end up in a pawn shop, that’s even better, because then the story of me goes in an entirely new direction.

To me, it’s all about the story; after all, what is life but a story.

When you’re a piece of jewelry, your destiny is fluid, unknown, and full of possibilities. Maybe you get lost at the beach, coming off your son’s finger as he body-surfs, only to be found a few weeks later by an elderly beachcomber who throws you in an old leather-bound jewelry box full of broken watches and faded polaroids and wears you every-now-and-then until the day he dies. At this point, you might end up as a mention in the final paragraph of the will of this total stranger and get passed along to the beachcomber’s favorite nephew, and off on new adventure you go.

The original story fades and gives way to another.

I’m aware that wanting to be turned into a diamond comes off as shallow. I can hear someone say, “Why can’t you die normal, like most people?” – and I guess I can see their point – but I don’t give a fuck.

And as an atheist, I like that we have this advanced scientific process that yells “Screw You” to the old Ashes to Ashes proverb from the Book of Common Prayer, which says that we’re made of dust and will return to ashes and dust after we die. 

No thanks, I’m returning as a diamond.

If you want to learn about the various burial options, check out Burial Alternatives – 23 Ultimate Ways To Check Out.