We Are All From This Earth

One of the realities of going through chemo treatment is that, within each cycle, I inevitably have two or three days when I feel so crummy that all I want to do is lay on the couch and watch mindless television. In fact, last cycle Pete came home from work to find me glued to my third hour of watching "America's Next Top Model." Ha ha!

I have never really been a TV watcher. In fact, were it not for the occasional World Cup Soccer Finals or 9/11 sort of breaking news, I think that both Pete and I could easily live without a TV in our home at all. I am always constantly perplexed when I hear that the average American spends three (or is it four?) hours a day watching TV - how can this be?? What the heck are they watching?? Or, more importantly, what other activities in their life are being re-prioritized so that they can sit in front of the TV for that many hours? Even on my grimmest days, I truly have to struggle to find anything that is worth watching, and, believe me, my standards on these days are NOT high. The one exception to this rule is Oprah. I have always love Oprah. I love her for probably the same reason that most people love her: she is about as honest and "tell it like it is" as people come.

A couple chemo cycles ago, I watched one of her shows entitled "Answers to Questions You Always Wanted to Ask." For example, one of the guests that she invited on the show talked about where our sewage actually goes after we flush and how it is treated and "reclaimed" so that it can be reused for watering landscaping, etc. Hmmm...who knew! The more interesting topic for me, though, was "What happens to all the roadkill on our highways and roads?" Okay, at this point, you are probably asking yourself whether I am beginning to lose it....What exactly is this chemo doing to my brain that I might find the topic of roadkill to be so interesting, you might wonder, but bear with me...

The guest that Oprah invited on to answer this question was some guy whose sole job is to clear the highways in New Jersey of any and all roadkill. As he explained, he wanders the highways looking for roadkill or responds to leads called in by commuters and then loads the dead animals into his truck for disposal. As the guest is speaking, there is video footage illustrating the process in quite graphic detail, including deer frozen in position by rigormortis. Once is truck is full, he drives to a huge compost pile and buries the animals, where the animal carcasses eventually decompose and become compost. The compost is then sold as fertilizer at local garden shops. At this point, the audience let out a huge collective moan of disgust and the cameras pan over the crowd to show some women covering their faces in horror. I don't know if, prior to everything I have gone through, I would have covered my face and moaned as well -- it's hard to put myself back in that mind frame. What I do know, however, is that I actually found Mr. Roadkill Collector's description of the animal compost to be quite beautiful.

Through this whole journey of mine, I have spent hours upon hours contemplating the meaning of life and the meaning of death, and one of the things that has brought me the most lasting comfort is the idea that we are all from this Earth. From the very first day of conception, our bodies are nourished and grow only by the grace of the food that we eat (or that our mother's ate), the air that we breathe and the water that we drink. And all of these things come from the Earth. We are really nothing more than trillions of cells that have figured out a way to convert these natural substances into something highly evolved and complex - nothing short of a miracle for sure! And so, when I think about the fact that we are but highly complex manifestations of air, food and water, I can't help but find comfort in the fact that someday my body -- this vessel of mine which temporarily carries around my soul -- will someday return to the Earth.

After watching this show, I told Pete that I want to be cremated when I die. I can't bear the thought that some poor tree would be cut down in order to be turned into a coffin to hold my remains. And I can't bear the thought of my body being filled with formaldehyde in order to preserve some semblance of "normalcy" while I am buried 6 feet underground. I want my body to be returned to the Earth from which it came, in the most natural and chemical-free state possible. I find comfort in the thought that my ashes might blow temporarily in the wind only to eventually settle on the ground and begin nourishing some living being and bringing forth more life. I find comfort in the thought that this body of mine, which I take such meticulous care of now, might help beautiful wildflowers grow in my "healing place" near Tennessee Valley Beach, and I think of my children and other loved ones visiting this place and seeing it brimming with life and knowing that I am there for eternity, and that the material that once comprised my living being is continuing on in the cycle of life. We are all going to die someday (hopefully, my day is still another 60 years from now!) but somehow the thought of dying becomes more bearable when framed this way.

And so there you have it: life's most important inspirations can come from anywhere, even a discussion about roadkill on Oprah!