I want to be cremated. At 35, I’ve lived without the burden of property. I still rent. I should think very much that I might never own property. And so my thinking is this: I haven’t owned any real estate in my life; I don’t want to take up any real estate when I’m dead and gone. And more than that, burying our dead is short-sighted. We’ve got a lot of dead and there will be a lot more very soon. Yes, it’s also true that I like cemeteries. But only because they are the last sacred green spaces. In my city, in most cities, the last safe green space is the cemetery. Condominiums, businesses encroach on all the others. And cities grow outward too, like stones dropped in a pond, and begin to blend together.

And also, even though I’m dead and gone, I don’t want to be underground. Do I want to be with my family? I’ll be dead, anyway. And besides, I haven’t spent very much of my time alive with my family so that is a matter of little significance. No. I’ve quite made up my mind. Burn me. I think I shall leave no survivor that will want to keep my remains and that’s just fine. I don’t want to be precious. I don’t want to remain, as it would be, on a shelf, in a cup. I don’t want to be bric a brac.

I know exactly where I want to be scattered too. When I was in Korea, years ago, I lived in Taegu – I think that’s been standardized to Daegu now. I lived fiercely and bravely, for the most part, and independently. I worked, yes, and played, and danced, and drank and made friends and fell in love a little. The day I came back home will stand as the day I was no longer young.

While I was in Korea, for a holiday, I went to a holy place called Haeinsa. It was a compound of temples which housed the wooden blocks of the Buddhist scriptures far out of the city. Haeinsa was up in the mountains where the air was thin and pure. In my memory it snowed nearly always but always just a little. A soft, drifting snow that, in my memory, as in my dreams, was warm still and lovely. While there, I climbed a famous peak and on top of that famous peak was a famous rock, round, and large, and smooth. And it was a beautiful mystery why it was there. And, quite alone, I stayed up on that peak and from that peak I could see the many ancient buildings. And alone on that peak in the soft wonderful snow, I was on top of the world and from below, from the ancient glorious buildings below, I could hear the monks chanting. And the world came at me and held me up and surrounded me. It was the singular most spiritual moment of my life.

After, I went down the peak. After, I went to look more closely at the ancient temples. An affable monk spied me and, with a warm smile, beckoned me in. It was warm inside and smelled of incense. And through the open space, I could see the snow come down still. And though I was clumsy, and though I was awkward, and though I felt like I was intruding, the holy man tried to teach me the proper way to bow and pray before the large golden Buddha. And when I made mistakes and when I worried myself, he smiled and laughed in such a charming and patient way. When I at last left, we bowed to each other and his face was serenity and peace. And his smile was joy.

SS