Andrea Mathieson on The Call to the Far Shore, with Nancy MacMillan

Your delight about the opening of the green burial site reminded me of an experience I had several years ago... I was with some friends on a patch of land near the edge of the Ganaraska River. It was a beautiful spring day and we had agreed to intuitively commune with whatever called out us in the landscape... My attention was drawn to several rotting fish on the riverbank. Reluctantly, I sat down beside the them and listened for their message. "We give our bodies to the land. At some point, it is all we have to give and we give in, having gathered memories or water, silt, river plants, stones and air. There comes a time to give this back to the earth, a fish-full life. The slow rotting of flesh a long, surrendered letting go. No shame, just meeting and mingling as the memories are slowly, silently returned to the land. A fish-blessed land sings differently than one starved of the sea. Our bodies carried travelling songs that are passed on through our bones, back to the spaces in the land that welcome our bone-story-songs. When you die, remember this — your decaying body is a gift. Do not shy away from its healthy stages of putrefaction. Your storied memory will release slowly into the land, each phase of decay a gift to where you are planted. Every memory freed is a blessing to the land. Even in death, there is more your body can do, and then the decaying process is made holy, not repugnant, the earth folds into receive the stories, songs, and living memories."