The miracle of human consciousness

I will elaborate on this, but for now please take a peak at the Human Consciousness Project:

"In recent years, a number of scientific studies conducted by independent researchers have found that as many as 10-20 percent of individuals who undergo cardiac arrest report lucid, well-structured thought processes, reasoning, memories, and sometimes detailed recall of their cardiac arrest. What makes these experiences remarkable is that while studies of the brain during cardiac arrest have consistently that there is no brain activity during this period, these individuals have reported detailed perceptions that appear to indicate the presence of a high-level of consciousness in the absence of measurable brain activity.

These studies appear to suggest that the human mind and consciousness may in fact function at a time when the clinical criteria of death are fully present and the brain has ceased functioning. If these smaller studies can be replicated and verified through the definitive, large-scale studies of the Human Consciousness Project, they may not only revolutionize the medical care of critically ill patients and the scientific study of the mind and brain, but may also bear profound universal implications for our social understanding of death and the dying process."

How to dispose of a body:

Welcome to procrastination station, where this blog post is two months in the making. On January 30th we were asked to think about the culturally varying methods of body disposal. In a funerary sense, NOT in a serial killer sense - so don't get too excited you creeps. This isn't Criminal Minds.

My experience with this in my own culture is mostly limited to what I've seen on television and what I've heard from others. My only experience with funerals are when I attended the services for my grandma Williams, my grandpa Meek, and a memorial service for my friend's father, who passed tragically. After that service (the most recent that I've been to), I am thankful that the only dead relatives I have are the ones that got to live full lives. My friend's dad's funeral was much harder to listen to, much more somber, and generally heart wrenching. In comparison, what I remember of my grandparent's services were of positive memories, acceptance, and love.

Even though I was young when my grandma passed (1997 - I was 10), I remember pretty distinctly both services held for her. My grandma was pretty religious and the services represented that. The service held in Calgary on what would have been her birthday included an open casket viewing of her body. I feel so strange about this. I remember the fact, but have no vivid image of it in my mind. I've either blocked it out, or I never looked in the first place. She was cremated prior to a second service held in Prince Albert. My grandfather passed when I was in my second year of University. His service, though also religious, seemed less somber. Maybe it was my age? Maybe it was sunnier outside that day? Anyways, he was also cremated.

I've come to realize that where I'm from, not only are burial or cremation generally the only accepted methods of burial, they seem to be the only methods known at all. Until recently I was under the same impression. Curiosity, wisdom and concept sharing, and a higher education have opened me up to the wide range of body disposal methods that are accepted across the globe. This class in particular has motivated me to research the minority of ways that our culture has access to (legally).

We did a couple assignments earlier in the semester using cemetery data. My conclusions based on these assignments are that burial is expensive, wasteful, environmentally unfriendly, and just plain strange. The costs spent on preparing and transporting a body, the casket, the headstone, and the actual process are unbelievable. I would much rather spend that money on something to be enjoyed in life! Be it by me, or by my loved ones. And in considering the sheer number of dead people piling up, the space needed for the burial of some elaborate casket is selfish. There are more dead people than living people on this earth, and that ratio is ever-increasing. The space that could hold the remains of the dead should rather be enjoyed by the living.

Okay, so cremation > burial then, right? I thought that too, at first. I had never considered how much damage turning a body to ash would cause the environment. This source states that cremation releases 6.8 million metric tons of CO2 each year in addition to mercury pollution from vaporisation of dental fillings. It has a huge initial energy cost to reach and maintain high temperatures during the process. It seems that in my mind, the only real benefit of cremation is that it reduces the space taken up by an entire body. So what are the alternatives?


http://www.time.com/time/health/article/0,8599,2022206,00.html (Aquamation)
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/09/13/green-funerals-options_n_1880096.html (Green funerals)
http://earthsky.org/human-world/how-to-dispose-of-a-dead-body-legally
http://www.mylastsong.com/advice/439/148/107/funerals/funeral-planning/funeral-ashes-options
http://www.cnn.com/2010/HEALTH/10/28/body.after.you.die/index.html (Donation)
http://www.ted.com/talks/jae_rhim_lee.html

body worlds?
donation to science?
diamond rings?

To be or not to be..in a museum

An exercise in quick draw was run this morning in class. Erin showed us a slideshow of artifacts, one at a time, and asked us to make a snap decision on whether or not we believe they should be open to perusal by the general public in a museum. Some of the artifacts were actual human remains (ie the bog bodies) where others were what Western culture would consider just stuff (statues and clothing and the like). I'm almost 100% sure I answered "YES, SHOW THEM IN A MUSEUM!" for most (if not all) of the photos, even the skeletons. I love museums, especially the ones with exhibits so unfamiliar they shock and excite the system. Afterall, circus sideshows did exist for a reason.. (Hellooooooooo.. human curiosity! Duh.)

Stone T'xwelaste, photographed in a museum.

Afterwards, when we started discussing the artifacts within their own context the point of the exercise became apparent. The first artifact described was a stone statue that belonged to the Sto:lo Nation of Chilliwack, BC. It had been housed in a Seattle museum until around 6 years ago when the repatriation of the statue to its people was finally approved. You can read the short news story here. My initial reaction to the "Stone T'xwelaste" was that, though obviously culturally significant due to its impressive visual shape, it was just reworked rock. Replaceable. When we were told the actual cultural importance of the statue, I was completely offended by my own ignorance. The Sto:lo Nation believe that their founding male ancestor, T'xwelaste, is trapped within the stone. He was sentenced as such by the gods following a disagreement during the creation of the earth. The sculpture that I had dismissed as just another slab of rock was actually the unifying ties to an entire tribe's identity. Guilt and bashfulness ensue. I have to be honest, though - my desire to witness this artifact actually increased, though now I am fighting an internal struggle of ethics.

Most of my closest relationships are fueled by intelligent, thought provoking conversation and idea sharing. I am undeniably in full support of the propagation of knowledge and museums are a fantastic mode for this. By making the unfamiliar accessible to those that would otherwise have no opportunity, education and understanding can be shared widely and cross-culturally. Talk about solving world peace! Nooooot. I had never really considered how this can have the exact opposite effect and create animosity between groups of different beliefs. Wow. There life goes again, getting all complicated or whatever. But I digress.

I visited my younger sister in New York over the Christmas holidays. (Yeah, yeah, old news - been biding my time for some part of that trip to become relevant in this class haha). We took the free ferry over to Staten Island and back, and after the trip we killed some time (and warmed up) by wandering through a museum near the ferry station - an offshoot of the Smithsonian, the National Museum of the American Indian. I remember feeling a lack of stimulation by the exhibits we viewed. I wasn't entirely bored per say, but there are only so many beaded shoulder bags and wooden wind instruments you can appreciate. The only two things that stand out to me now are:

Museum photos of 2000 year old duck decoys.

1. ancient duck decoys found in Lovelock Cave dated to over 2000 years ago (my response: "WHOA, clever humans")
2. spoons and bowls of one tribe where varying and oftentimes ridiculous sizes of utensils indicated heightened status (my response: imagining people sitting down to dinner with these, heh heh heh)


Things that seem sensational and out of the ordinary are the things that have the most impact - knowledge that actually sticks. Consider controversial exhibits like Body Worlds. REAL HUMAN BODIES plastinated and shown in real physical forms - throwing a football, practicing yoga - across all stages of life, including as a fetus in situ. There we go again with the shock and awe factor. These are the things that, to me, are suitable in a museum. These are the things that elicit the most response from the general, unaware public. It's like this: I have ALWAYS wanted to travel to Africa, ever since I learned about the animals you can see on safari. To this day, I have only ever seen those animals on television or in a zoo. To see them in real life and in their natural habitat would bring such a thrill to me. Kind of like how natural Canadian wildlife got this man so stoked:

DEATH CAFES! (What? Never heard of 'em?)

I have to admit, neither had I. Which seems really funny to me now, because it's one of the many things my mom had come across in her home-directed learning as my impromptu classmate where she actually said "I'm sure you've already heard about.." when mentioning the concept of Death Cafes. Side note: I have been very indignant about things my mom would link to me about this course if I had already learned about them in class (or just generally). Like "OMG MAAAAM I knowwwwww, that stuff is like, soooooo last week's lecture" because I didn't want to feel inferior in my learning when in competition with her sick internet skillzzzzz. So it was a nice little surprise when she threw something new into the mix whilst also stroking my ego and suggesting I would already be learned on the topic.

Obviously I had to play catch-up here, so this is what I've learned:

Death Cafes are essentially our class, the Archeaology of Death, interpolated into real life. Maybe with a little less archaeology and a little more social and cultural anthropology, but surprisingly the overall scheme and topics aren't too far off. They've discussed cultural ideas of death, what to expect in the afterlife, what your ideal funeral would be, alternative burial options.. you name it, someone has probably mentioned it. Death Cafes are community meetings where people of all demographics come together to discuss thoughts about death. They are an open mic night for people to share their interpretation, expectation, or cultural manifestation of death in its full glory. They are a support meeting, or an info night, or an extension on the conversations you have among your friends. They have tea. And home baked goods. And tea. Nothing like creating a familiar and comfortable environment for complete strangers to bond over the inevitability of death.

From the Calgary Herald - Calgary's first death cafe!

There was one held recently in Calgary (March 10th), which I think is how my mom came to know about them. There was a full article in The Calgary Herald to create awareness - very cool. This news article from the Times Colonist indicates that monthly death cafes are currently being held in Victoria (for a 6 month spin).

I think these things are a genius idea, especially in our culture where the melting pot effect has caused us to feel a disconnect between one another on the topic of death and a bit of confusion on where we stand with ourselves on the matter. Our cultures have overlapped such that ideas of death are confusing because they conflict so much. What better than to share them then, my dear?

I would therefore like to share with you two stories from within my social circle. One refers to the experience my father had at a funeral held for the tragic death of a past colleague, the other to the experience of a friend, Dale, surrounding the accidental discovery of an underground burial zone in Victoria. Both are aware that their stories are being shared on the internet, though I'm not sure of the span of audience they will reach will be very high.

In an email from my dad (some portions removed due to unnecessary or private information):

"On the Thursday, there was a viewing and family visitation from 3pm to 9pm for the day prior to the Pradeep ______ memorial service on Friday morning...The viewing I found surreal - Pradeep's mother, Dawn (Pradeep's wife), her mother and her sister sat in a front row of seats facing the coffin with the displayed body. I was there for about 90 minutes - most of them never left the seats duing that period of time. Twice Dawn got up and stood over the coffin - I admit I could not figure out from her expression if she was "pissed" or grieving - probably both?

Pradeep was 44 years old - I had met him in Toronto in 1998 (presented at one of his accounts - Hudson's Bay with considerable success) and when he moved to Detroit in 2000 he was the primary mover to tieing my competitive career to Central US demographic. I was under the misconception that most people with heart attacks survived.... I was thinking Pradeep must have been stranded alone and never got quick enough assistance. Not the case, as he had been talking to friends - walked back to his garage to go shopping, collapsed in open view, 911 called immediately and ambulance hospital minutes away. Just a massive heart attack that put him on life support - little signs of brain activity and taken off life support after a couple of days and passed away within 12 hours of coming off life support. 

One of the surprises for me was the "low" attendance at the memorial service - although the weather there that day was similar to our weather yesterday. Saw many 180s/360s performed on the Detroit area roads on the way to the funeral home. The last IBM funeral I went to had hundreds in attendance - I think the [large distances and length of time spent away] have increased a lack of IBM community feeling as approximately 100 people in attendance with most being neighbors and friends. Did not see many of the IBMers I would have thought would be there - but for many of them, IBM might stand for I've Been Moved. A couple of people I reached out to were in China (now one of IBM's biggest markets) and unable to get back. 

The service was not upbeat (although the material for most part was) - the circumstances were probably too tragic for many of the people who talked about Pradeep for a "ceremony of life" to come off. It was a very sad day - at the finish of the memorial, the exit route was a walk by the open coffin to view for the last time. I cannot remember the last memorial (funeral) I was at where viewing seemed central to the service. My impression is that dead bodies rarely remind one helpfully of the vibrant personalities that had inhabited the body. There was a reception after that I attended, but did not stay long as was mostly people I did not know personally."

My dad at I at my cousin's wedding. Now THAT'S a celebration of life.

I have to admit, this email made me cry. I have accompanied my dad at both services held for his mom and my grandma, as well as the funeral held for my mom's dad, my grandpa. I am the second youngest of a family of four, but I was the only one of my siblings to drive with my dad, my cousin, and my uncle to Prince Albert, Saskatchewan for my grandma's second service. (Everyone else likely had scheduling conflicts, but I like to think I was brought along also because I'm the especially empathetic one, and I give good hugs). I was so sad in reading this email that I couldn't have been there with my dad at such a sad service. I know that my dad worries about heart attacks a lot in reference to his brothers because cardiovascular issues run in the family, and some of my uncles are high risk. I can't imagine him being alone and picturing the funerals of one of my uncles within the context of this one. Tragedy strikes every day, and it really makes you reflect on your own life, and the lives of those you love. (I love you, pops.) It is comforting to know that I would consider everyone in my family quite privileged with the lives they lead and have lead, and the memories we have together and separately will, when they happen, lead to amazingly uplifting funeral services. Celebrations of life, fo sho!

Next, here is a copy of a facebook message I prompted a regular at my job, and subsequent friend of mine (Dale), to share with me about a previous conversation we'd had following one of his rehearsals. (He is a singer for choirs, theatre, and opera - I hope I have all that right).

In case you wanted to go see for yourself..

"We were rehearsing for a concert at Saint Andrew's Cathedral downtown. After dress rehearsal we needed to clear everything away because they were holding mass in the sanctuary between rehearsal and concert. The custodian was on duty, and I volunteered to help him out. Mostly this was just moving chairs around and stuff, but the music stands needed to get completely out of the way.

He grabbed a few and indicated that I should follow suit. He led the way down a tight, narrow spiral staircase into a room that didn't seem to connect to anywhere else. He said we could leave the music stands there, and started back up the stairs. Looking around, I saw three sarcophagi. I read the plaque on one, it said that he was a priest who had been murdered in the Yukon (possibly during the gold rush, but I'm not sure).

This was in the church across from the Capitol Six movie theatre.

I don't know a lot about Roman Catholic beliefs about corpses, but I know that at some of them believe (or possibly once believed?) that the bodies of saints had some sort of power associated with them (keeping them in reliquaries, and such). I wanted to read all about the people in the sarcophagi and find out if that's why their remains were transported (at least one from as far away as the Yukon) and preserved. Sadly, there was more work to be done and I didn't get a chance.

...I was curious. I was also surprised to find dead people being stored in a building, but I remembered that there are a few gravestones in front of the church (right on Blanshard St.) so I figured that they must already be zoned for it."

This story blew my mind when he mentioned it in person one night at the restaurant I work at. I'm in a class about death and had just finished a monument analysis of Pioneer Square, one of the most poorly understood grave sites in the city, and I was still boggled by the fact that there are dead people in the basement of a downtown building. And a basement that combines human tomb with storage space. How resourceful! I asked him to recount it for me, and I'm especially thrilled by his afterthought to place the church in context of a popular downtown movie theatre. It made the story all the more strange - there are 3 dead priests just a stones throw from where you just saw Life of Pi (not in 3D though, gotta go to the Odeon for that!).

Dedicated to Mama Williams

My mother researches everything. This is cold, hard fact. Some people's parents are pretty shabby with the internet. Not my mom. She can navigate that sh*t like a motherf**(bleep, bleep). So it should be no surprise to me that telling her about this class should trigger a huge influx of information in my inbox. Still, I was utterly overwhelmed by her desire to share with me everything her and the internet have to offer about death. Without further ado, this blog post is dedicated to MY MOM.

My parents still live together in the house they raised me in, in Calgary. They have to love me from afar, so much of our interaction occurs via sporadic telephone calls and consistent emails. The great thing about this is that I almost always have a written record of the things they share with me. Like I've already stated, my mom is especially current in my inbox. The hilarious thing is that I shared my blog link first and solely with my dad and immediately heard back about it from mom almost the same day. Didn't hear much initially from my pops, though I know he's been keeping up with it. Mom's first impression was of pride, and also to inquire about clove cigarettes - whoops. (MOM: They are Indonesian, clove + tobacco cigarettes - our version of an occasional celebratory cigar among friends). She also admitted using urbandictionary to understand my abbreviated shorthand (re: totes). Hilarious. And resourceful!

I find it neat, though not unexpected, that my mother and I have similar views about death. We were both initially drawn to cremation as the ideal method for body disposal following death, especially if burial was the only other option. She, like me, finds burial in a casket somewhat unnecessary. Her view is that the body is only a vessel for one's spirit, and that the spirit remains in the lives of those they have touched through memories and through the family they may have propagated. Knowledge and insight have recently opened my eyes to more eco-friendly modes of burial or body disposal which I was thrilled to show my mother. For her viewing pleasure:

A girl in a mushroom suit, talking about her genious idea
Natural Burials care of Wikipedia

And also, for shock factor and perhaps teaching mom something new, the Tibetan Sky Burial!

In addition, my mom had some blog prompts of her own for me (after waiting impatiently for my next posting and deciding I had simply run out of topics). Another classmate might find these useful, or at least intriguing:

- discuss popular Western funeral music (examples here and here)

- discuss funerary traditions involving music in other cultures

- compare varying burial traditions cross-culturally (I digress, she might know more about these than I do)

- talk about hospice care centres and the change from life to death (see here and here)

- mention this: DEATH CAFES (I plan on doing so at a later date, thanks ma)

She even did follow-up research on my monument analysis essay after I'd received my grade and showed it to her. She used ancestry.ca and findagrave.com to hash out the backstories of the families behind a few monuments in Pioneer Square, Victoria that had missing inscriptions. What a crafty lady.

Gay Caveman?! Rude. Third-gendered-prehistoric-farmer...... maybe.

Time and time again I am frustrated by lofty claims made by social anthropologists. I understand "shock factor". It's key in getting anything shared in today's fast-paced, insanely self-involved culture. I get that the terms "caveman" and "gay" are words that still trigger curiosity in the general public (thanks to GEICO ads and homophobia), but I am also empathetic to people that can no longer stand up for themselves when potentially untrue things are said about them. If I was the "gay caveman" - actually let's call this individual Sam, a good ol' all-gender/species encompassing name - I'd probably want to box whoever's ears was telling the general public things about me when they've never even met me.

How you get this:

That is SOME 'come hither' look, right there.

from this:

Ahmahgawd! Weird - must be gay.

I just don't understand. There are so many things wrong with this.

I have to say, though, this information wouldn't have spanned quite the audience that it did, if not for the title this guy was given. Sorry, Sam, looks like you're the scapegoat for the media's inherent disregard for political correctness.

Sensationalism at its finest.

If you were wondering where this pseudo-rant came from..

We were instructed to google "gay caveman" and respond to the search results. The background on this Sam person is as follows. A bunch of anatomically correct bones were dug up in Prague. Male bones. But they were buried in such a fashion as to represent the typical burial methods of a female. The bones were dated to between 2900 and 2500 BC during a time where funerary practices were taken fairly seriously; Sam's burial was no accident. Sam was positioned on his left side with his head facing west, rather than the more manly position of facing the east on his right side. Sam was also buried alongside pots and jugs, and no weapons. 

The results of this dig were introduced during a press release and were immediately overtaken by interpretation via the media. I find it insanely ironic that the majority of the media articles on the topic are debunking themselves. The majority of the titles brought up on my Google search claim that some other media conglomerate has OH EM GEE, COMPLETELY RUINED ARCHEOLOGICAL SCIENCE FOR EVERYONE. Give me a break, you are all a part of it. And can you imagine the dismay that the archaeologists responsible for the find felt? Their initial, careful interpretations were completely blown out of proportion and their entire find was given an air of sideshow entertainment. All they wanted people to know was that they found a 5000 year old skeleton that was buried in a way that was normally reserved for women. This burial could have represented any multitude of gender roles, or not even. Basically, in our current terms perhaps he was just really bad at gym class and majorly kick-ass at home ec.

He could have even been a witch doctor, or a shaman. SO THERE.

Edit: In another class (Bioarchaeology: Methods and Theory) we have discussed in depth and even practiced the sexing of skeletal remains. There are an insane amount of confounding factors on the proper analysis of sex of a skeleton (taphonomy, disease, genetic descent, body modification..) - the proper identification of biological sex of a skeleton is not entirely perfect in itself. Prior to this understanding, I didn't even stop to question the science behind the initial sexing of Sam as a male. Females are consistently underrepresented in the skeletal record due to intermediate or ambiguous sexing (where they appear in the middle of the continuum between male and female). Though I believe in the power of science, there is still a chance that Sam could be a biological female; it all comes down to the interpretation.

Other things I've learned doing this exercise:

- there is a scale that dictates the degree to which a person is homo or heterosexual (between 1 and 7) - the Kinsey scale
HUH? Was unaware that homosexuality was a continuum.

Happy Valentine's Day?

Tactful Valentine's Day suggestion, oui?

How romantic. <3

I want a physicist to speak at my funeral!

My friend, Heather, posted this commentary on her Facebook a long time back and I saved it - it's been a bookmark on my web browser for a year plus.

The Circle of Life, give or take a few steps.

I am entirely science-minded and like having solid backing to the wonders of the world. Science dictates that, in the circle of life, we are created, we live, we die, and we are broken down into the tiniest of biological and mineral components to be re-used for the next guy. Science has additionally agreed upon the concept that energy cannot be created or destroyed, and that it may only change forms. I don't know what I believe about where my mind and spirit and soul and whatever other non-tactile part of me will go when I die, but I like what this guy has to say about it. I find it comforting to think about, too, when I stress about someone close to me and their imminent end. Here is a physicist's take (via a black Jewish comedian's commentary on National Public Radio) on the passing of your best friend, your father, your wife, your child:

You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.

And at one point you'd hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.

And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives. 

And you'll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that they'll be comforted to know your energy's still around.

According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; you're just less orderly.

Amen. 

-Aaron Freeman 

Energy cannot be created nor destroyed, not even yours. It just changes from one form to another.

(You can find the audio at the linked website at the very beginning of this post, but for the record, the actual transcript of the eulogy speech is the part that got me. I honestly didn't even listen to the audio until today, and I didn't even get halfway through it because it sounds so tacky and kind of like he's building up to sell you on a pyramid scheme. I'd personally like it if anyone except for this man could recite this at my funeral (no offense, Aaron Freeman, I think you're brilliant.) Maybe Morgan Freeman could do it instead?)

Grave goods of the late Deanna Louise..?

For someone who wants to donate their body to science, the idea of burial with material things is a hard concept to comprehend. I don't want to get all 'holier-than-thou' on anybody, but personally I'd like to make my last hurrah about generosity and the propagation of knowledge rather than about a selfish grab at a spot in the earth with all my pretty things. This sounds demeaning to those that believe in burial of the dead, so I digress. There are very many factors that surround the purposes of inhumation and grave goods, and I really shouldn't brag of being above what I don't understand. It's just that ideally, that's not how I want to be remembered. It seems stagnant and too permanent for my liking. I can't make a decision about what I want right now for dinner, let alone what I'd want some "archaeologist" to find with my bones a thousand or so years from now when digging holes along a soon to be <insert new biofuel of the 3000's here> pipeline. I feel the same about anything else that's permanent. Tattoos, what you wrote in someone's yearbook once, what you looked like in your photo in said yearbook, your decision to start or to not start your own family, your famous last words.. etcetera.

But in the name of spontaneity and assigned course work, here is a list of possible items I think would shed light on who I was for whomever gets the gruesome privilege of discovering my decaying remains:

• A photo album depicting the best sides of anyone (animals included) that has ever been close to me. I'm thinking family, friends, co-workers, people that have triggered important epiphanies for me.. And I want my people to look their best, even when I look like a pile of calcium and some strange coloured dirt. But I guess photos decay too. Shoot.
• Books. Preferably recommended books that I have yet to read, because the ones I have will already be with me! (How's that for spiritual?)
• The afghan that my Grandma Williams knit for me when I was very young that has made it every house I've ever called home. Family is important!
• Some sand or maybe a quintessential plastic cup from the cabin at my favourite place in the world, Gallagher Lake.
• Memoirs from friendships I've formed. I have a few in my life already, like t-shirts signed by friends or teammates or my box of kept letters and cards and notes. I guess something similar to the guestbook at a bed and breakfast, at a wedding, or if you want to get all death oriented, at a chapel funeral. This might also include things that have been made or given to me by a close friend or family member, like jewelry.
• Something that smells good and familiar to combat the dank dirt. Maybe a friend's perfume, ground coffee beans or oil of bergamont, fresh basil or rosemary, my dad's antiperspirant..?
• Deja Entendu by Brand New (in some media form), because everyone (even in the future) should listen to it intimately.

Alternatively, here are some things my roommates suggested:
*I'm aware of the overlap.
My figure skates and rugby ball, photos of closest friends, grandma's afghan (or something else that I keep close that is special from childhood), clove cigarettes (shared amongst friends for the last four years, at least), favourite books (Survivor by Chuck Pahlaniuk because it was the last one I recommended to one of them).

When I review my list, it seems very apparent that I would prefer to be remembered for the people I knew and what they would say about me, rather than what I want to portray myself as. When I think about the grave goods throughout the Upper Paleolithic and how they are oftentimes used to determine social status or stratification, I can help but wonder what someone would gain from analyzing mine in the same fashion.

I found a blog posting online that discusses the purpose of modern day grave goods as a celebration of life, rather than as a reflection of identity. It makes the whole thing a little less serious in my head, and I can grasp it a little better. That is, until I run into something like this:

From LA Times: Apple iPad2 replicas burned, sent to afterlife in Chinese Qingming Festival

Consumerism is going to be such an embarrassing legacy.

Anyways. It's such a strange concept to use material things to indicate identity everchanging. This blog prompted me all the way back to the 7th grade assignment of self-addressed letters. So fascinating to see how much you change in such a short few years. Are graves, too, just like a time capsule? EPIPHANY.

(By the way, figured out the dinner situation.)

On comparing apples with apples..

Someone once told me that no one will ever really understand you the way that you understand you. You can try until the end of days to explain your thoughts, feelings, attachments, and conclusions to another without them ever really grasping the entirety of your meaning. No one will ever experience the world in precisely the same matter as you, and that is the beauty of being a living, breathing, comprehending human being. To contradict Tyler Durden, we are beautiful, unique snowflakes. But that also causes problems, especially cross-culturally. In order for us to gain some understanding of another, we try to connect what might be unfamiliar by basing what we see, feel, hear, taste, or touch with something that is familiar. This causes us to relate things that might have nothing to do with one another in ways that confuse, belittle, or demean the thing that is misunderstood.

And now to relay those thoughts with the blog prompt for the week. I reviewed the interview of Ramilisonina, a native born archaeologist from Madagascar, lead by Richard Covington. Ramilisonina believes there is a significant link between Stonehenge and practices in his own culture. He superimposes burial rituals and rock formation arrangements from his own culture onto the arrangements as seen at Stonehenge, Bluestonehenge, and Woodhenge and concludes that they must hold the same purpose and meaning. This is all fine and dandy for just a simple man trying to make his way in this world, but for an archaeologist it seems like somebody's just grasping at straws. There is no real proof that such a linkage makes any sense. It's like saying octopi and humans are, like, totes the same because we both have an optic, complex eye. But with even less substantiating proof. In this instance, we have more proof to link Mr. Octopus and Ramilisonina (assuming he is capable of sight) than we do to link Stonehenge and Malagasy ancestor stone formations. I guess this is more like saying a bowl and a hat are the same in all aspects including purpose because they are both half-spherical. Of course this is the means by which we explore our surroundings and what things are new to us, so I applaud the man for making the connection. Gotta love me some ethnology! I simply think he needs to explore the idea much, much further before he makes such huge leaps in logic. During the interview he begins with "could", "might", and "seems to" which are safe words for careful comparisons. He stretches this a bit when he suggests there's "a similar element of magic" shared across both places. My bone to pick is that he finishes the interview with "the way they are erected varies, but they are always connected to the dead, our ancestors, and invisible spirits, just as at Stonehenge." WHAT?! This is not fact. Treating this supposition as fact is a dangerous thing to do for an archaeologist. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I have a preconceived notion that all archaeologists must also be scientists, that is, they must offer theories with the knowledge that no theory can be entirely proven such that it becomes fact. And if the theory of evolution must play by those rules, so should your ancestor stone theories, Ramilisonina, sir.

King Julien and Maurice just making some (false?) assumptions. And poor Mort! He's SO impressionable.

My personal opinion aside, here is what I think of his theory:
After doing some internet sleuthing (aka Wikipedia..ing) I determined that human occupation in Madagascar is currently assumed to be around 350 BC-550 AD. It is believed that Stonehenge was built between 3000BC-2000BC. So let's just make it simple and say that Stonehenge was at least 2000 years old when Madagascar was first occupied by humans. So Stonehenge would be the chicken before the little Madagascar egg (or if you think the egg came first, Stonehenge would be the egg). And those humans occupying Madagascar first were from Borneo. Not Britain. Granted I am not an expert on the history of Madagascar, or Britain for that matter. But I would still hazard to guess that there's limited cross-culturalization between the UK druids and modern day Malagasy people.
Cool idea, but not the most parsimonious explanation. There are many other theories surrounding the mystery that is Stonehenge; I guess go ahead and add this one to the pile.

Why are we here?

That is NOT an existential question. Not here. Not yet. Who knows if I even get that far? Right now my only intention is to introduce myself and the purpose of this blog.

My name is Deanna. I am at the beginning of my last semester of my university career. It's both exciting and terrifying because I am in complete and total control of my destiny, or whatever it is that they say. You can go ahead and take that literally. I only need three more anthropology classes of my choosing before I graduate with a BA in Biology and Anthropology. Therefore I choo-choo-choose <insert picture of a train here> ANTH 397 aka The Archaeology of Death.

(side-note: Do you have any idea how many senior anthropology courses are offered at UVIC?! It's insane. Like a walk-in-closet of opportunity, with styles for EVERYONE. I implore you to check out the biology options.. or don't. They're not that thrilling.)

I'm excited for this course, not only because it comes highly recommeded (thank you, Tessah), but also for the mystery and intrigue it exuuuuudes. My curiosity and yearn to learn (sorry, lame) have me entirely stoked for what's to come. Not to mention my affinity towards anything self-reflective and written. I'm in scholar's heaven! This blog is the means by which myself (and the rest of the class) intend to mull over topics relating to death, burial rituals, spirituality across cultures... The list is endless. Eternal, if you will.

Here are some things that define me: I am a middle child. I am Calgarian. I read for fun. I do other things for fun, too, but I think admitting a love of books says something about a person. I do things outdoors. I'm good at adventures. I listen to a lot of music. I'm impressed by people that work with their hands. I work in a restaurant serving burgers and beer to people and I love every minute of it because I'm a people person. I laugh. A LOT. I am very close with my family and have a very solid network of friends. I guess I firmly believe in that stupid cliche that every girl seems to have tattooed on her foot. Some combination of one-syllable L-words. LIVE LAUGH LOVE.. LEARN... whatever. But I would never get it tattooed. Anywhere. For the record.