human composting

Climate Movement Monday: human composting

/ Tracy Abell / 7 Comments

Welcome back to Movement Mondays in which we discuss all things climate. Today also happens to be Earth Day which, to be honest, I’d like to ignore rather than get caught up in overly-optimistic and/or downright dishonest rhetoric (I’m looking at you, Biden, as you supply tens of thousands of tons of explosives so that Israel may continue blowing up Palestinians, their residences, infrastructure, and farmland). Those in power are not honoring the earth and its inhabitants, and they should all keep “Earth Day” out of their mouths. Okay, Tracy. *deep breaths*

Instead, let’s talk about human composting, otherwise known as Natural Organic Reduction! I’m interested in this topic for two reasons: (1) I plan to be composted upon my death and (2) because my work-in-progress is a middle grade novel about a girl and her family’s funeral home that pivots from conventional death care (embalming, burial in ornate coffins, flame cremation) to green burial and natural organic reduction. Fortunately for me, in March of 2023, I was able to (virtually) attend the very first human composting conference ever (organized by Seth Viddal of The Natural Funeral)! I learned so much and could talk your ear off about all this, but today will only provide a brief overview along with some resources.

Recompose vessel

In early 2021, Recompose became the first human-composting funeral home in the U.S. Katrina Spade is the founder of Recompose, and the person most responsible for spearheading the human composting  movement. Thanks to her efforts and those of advocates around the country, human composting is now legal not only in Washington, but also Colorado, Oregon, Vermont, California, New York, Nevada, and Arizona. Legislation has been introduced in another sixteen states (scroll down for list/links).

Why is human composting a climate matter? For every person who chooses Recompose over conventional burial or cremation, one metric ton of carbon dioxide is prevented from entering the atmosphere. In addition, our approach to human composting requires 1/8 the energy of conventional burial or cremation. Recompose allows you to choose an end-of-life option that strengthens the environment rather than depleting it. (This info came from Recompose, but the same applies for human composting via any funeral home’s process.)

From that same page: Current funerary practices are environmentally problematic. Each year, 2.7 million people die in the U.S., and most are buried in a conventional cemetery or cremated. Cremation burns fossil fuels and emits carbon dioxide and particulates into the atmosphere. Conventional burial consumes valuable urban land, pollutes the soil, and contributes to climate change through resource-intensive manufacture and transport of caskets, headstones, and grave liners. The overall environmental impact of conventional burial and cremation is about the same.

Not only does human composting avoid those environmental costs, the process produces soil! Why does that matter? Again, from Recompose: The breakdown of organic matter is an essential component in the cycle that allows the death of one organism to nurture the life of another. Soil is the foundation of a healthy ecosystem. It filters water, provides nutrients to plants, sequesters carbon, and helps regulate global temperature.

Human composting produces about a truck-bed full of soil. Families of the deceased are given the option of taking some or all of that soil OR donating it to land conservation and restoration sites. I’m not sure about other states, but know that here in Colorado the law prohibits the sale of the soil or using it on plants grown for food. The Colorado Burial Preserve in Florence, CO, accepts human composting soil for land restoration (in addition to being a green burial site).

I learned during the conference that many who choose human composting don’t make that choice based on climate concerns, but because it just feels right to be returned to the earth after death. One of the other human composting vendors said that people want more choice for their deaths and that natural organic reduction appeals to them on a “freedom” level. A while back, I wrote about death and how my decision to be composted has given me incredible peace of mind. Everyone should have the freedom to make a death-care choice that speaks to their values. There’s much more to be said about the grief process and how natural organic reduction allows for participation by family and friends, along with a timeline that supports gentle grieving as opposed to an abrupt “that’s-that” burial practice, but I’ll save that conversation for another post.

In the meanwhile, I’d like to offer resources:

  • Go here to learn more about pending legislation and how you can get involved in bringing human composting to your state
  • Visit “The Order of the Good Death” for lots of information about death care, including Calls to Action in support of a “good death” (Note: Founder Caitlin Doughty is an incredibly smart, funny, and compelling speaker/writer on this issue)

I’ll stop here, but PLEASE don’t hesitate to ask questions! As stated, I love talking about this issue and if I don’t have answers, I can point you in the right direction. It’s an exciting development in death care and I hope by sharing this information, some of you might experience a ping of recognition (as in, that’s what I want for me!)

Thank you for reading. Solidarity! ✊🏽

On death

/ Tracy Abell / 18 Comments

I just learned that a neighbor died. Alone. In their home. I don’t know any details beyond that. In trying to process all this, I went in search of a quotation that might speak to me and help make sense of the situation. This, from Kurt Vonnegut, caught my eye: There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look. That sentiment felt applicable because of how the neighbor had alienated others to the extent that no one could pinpoint for the police when the neighbor had last been seen. In my mind, the aloneness had been needlessly self-inflicted over the years, destroying relationships that had once thrived. Then I happened upon this quotation from Orson Welles: We’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone. Who was I to pity the neighbor when every one of us will make that final trip alone? Our neighbor was fiercely independent and very proud of that fact.

I recently read Smoke Gets In Your Eyes & Other Lessons from the Crematory which was quite helpful, not only because it put death in perspective, but also for leading me to human composting. For years, I’d been telling Zippy that when I die I wanted him to toss my body in the forest so that the crows and whatever else could feast on my remains. He patiently and repeatedly pointed out how he’d probably get in serious trouble for disposing of his wife’s body in the woods. But now I have a plan that’s legal and suits my wishes. It’s incredibly freeing to know that when I die, my body will not only return to the soil but also enrich the earth. I hope my neighbor experienced a similar peace by having a death plan in place. I also hope their death was swift and painless, and that they maintained their sense of indomitability to the very end. When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home. ~ Tecumseh

This flower from my garden is a stand-in for the photos I took years ago of my neighbor’s iris. They were out of state that spring and sad to miss their garden in bloom, so I documented the display and sent it along. Remembering that connection eases some of today’s shock.

May 13, 2020

Death forces us to think more about life and how we’re spending our finite time here. Zippy and I are grateful to have our sons visiting now and we’ve shared even more hugs than usual today. If you’ve read this far, thank you for sharing in these musings with me. I’m grateful for our connection.