amor et mortem

I am an enigma, even unto myself.
I am a quixotic dreamer, hopeless romantic, aspiring mortician, vegan, sadomasochist and lover of the macabre.
greenburialcouncil:

“On Friday, a family took charge of their mother’s funeral. They were gathered around for her final breath, and soon thereafter shrouded her body prior to it being moved to the hospital’s morgue. They filled out the death certificate and burial/transport permit and obtained signatures of the necessary officials. They transported her remains on a body board in their station wagon, delivering it to a grave that was hand-dug by her grandson and friends. Family and friends gathered, smudged with sage, said personal remembrances and sacred things, and lowered her body slowly themselves, adding a feather (she loved birds), photos, and flower petals. They covered the grave, planted a winged elm at her head, and placed a picturesque tree burl at her foot. The grave was further marked by a brass surveyor’s disk with her name and dates. Family and friends retired to the Lodge for a meal together, and for further remembrances. The only thing remarkable about all of this is that such a loving, participatory, and natural ending should be remarkable at all.”
-from Green Burial Council certified Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery

greenburialcouncil:

On Friday, a family took charge of their mother’s funeral. They were gathered around for her final breath, and soon thereafter shrouded her body prior to it being moved to the hospital’s morgue. They filled out the death certificate and burial/transport permit and obtained signatures of the necessary officials. They transported her remains on a body board in their station wagon, delivering it to a grave that was hand-dug by her grandson and friends. Family and friends gathered, smudged with sage, said personal remembrances and sacred things, and lowered her body slowly themselves, adding a feather (she loved birds), photos, and flower petals. They covered the grave, planted a winged elm at her head, and placed a picturesque tree burl at her foot. The grave was further marked by a brass surveyor’s disk with her name and dates. Family and friends retired to the Lodge for a meal together, and for further remembrances. The only thing remarkable about all of this is that such a loving, participatory, and natural ending should be remarkable at all.”

-from Green Burial Council certified Prairie Creek Conservation Cemetery

(via funeralfarm)

For her ways are ways of death,
and her paths are roads of sin,
and her tracks are pathways to iniquity,
and her by-ways are rebellious wrong-doings.
Her gates are gates of death,
and from the entrance of the house
she sets out towards the underworld.
None of those who enter there will ever return,
and all who possess her will descend to the Pit.

—The Dead Sea Scrolls, 4Q184 (via draco-magne)

(via mors-et-obscuritas)

Don’t bend; don’t water it down; don’t try to make it logical; don’t edit your own soul according to the fashion. Rather, follow your most intense obsessions mercilessly.

—Franz Kafka (via ephemeralised)

(via esotericallyarcane)