March 25, 2006
A visit to Mt. Auburn
Last Friday was one of those late-winter-clear-light-with-black-trunks-days that thrill the enthusiatic amateur photographer. My unintegrated aspects were stirring once again. In order to distract them, (god forbid that I deal with them directly), I set off for the cemetery, where blackness of trees and depth of shadow are guaranteed.
Somewhere along the way I was most attracted to the gravestone of Baby Wigglesworth, dead at 1 year, shaped like a woven infant basket -- perhaps because I want so much to bury my own Inconsolable Baby.
The life-sized piece is tucked among a number of small, elaborately decorated white markers. Really, the art of gravestone carving has suffered terribly. All these slick pink polished granite things, cannot hold a candle to the charms of their Victorian counterparts. Kousa Dogwood, carved roses, oak leavesand ivy, nasturtium abound.
This lead me to consider my own gravestone preferences. As usual, cuteness counts for me in the biggest way. In fact, it will be my greatest consideration in gravestone selection. Should I even be buried-- or cremated, and tossed to sea, dusty tooth and nails? Urned and placed on a mantle somewhere?
I know, I'll be cremated and each of my friends can take a scoop of me and put it under one of the many adorable stones at Mt. Auburn, thereby giving me the pleasure of having a plethora of aesthetically pleasing markers (who needs your own name up there anyway, when there are lavishly carved vines?) It will save my heirs a pretty penny, since real estate at Mt. Auburn runs as high as Manhattan's, and I always love a bargain.
What do I care, anyway? I shall either be dust, or looking down, preparing for yet another semester here at Earth School, only to learn the lessons again. I doubt I shall make it to heavenly guide status this trip, since I am so unwilling to take the earthly risks of saying "no", and have so many unintegrated aspects of self still flopping around at this late date.
Since the only vibration you can control is your own, for the time being I shall place the Inconsolable Baby under the Wigglesworth basket at Mt. Auburn, among all the carved flowers she so loves, and try to get on with my development.
larger kousa dogwood larger nasturtium larger roses
larger oak and ivy larger bluebells larger grape and wheat
Photo note: A veritable sampler