Capsula Mundi, an Italian organization founded by Anna Citelli and Raoul Bretzel, proposes an alternative to traditional burial practices. When you die, they think you should become a tree.
The idea is simple and elegant. Upon death, a person is curled into the fetal position and placed within a burial pod — shaped like a large seed — and buried in the ground. A tree, indigenous to the land and chosen beforehand by the deceased, is planted atop the burial pod. The seed soaks life-giving nutrients from the pod and grows into a living tree, to be cared for by family and friends. Pods are engineered from starch plastic, a biodegradable material that helps fertilize the living tree.
The movement is a back-to-the-land initiative that assuages environmental concerns across the world. Many supporters of “natural burial” espouse the inimical use of coffins, arguing that they make waste of precious materials (trees) for futile purposes. By providing an alternative to the use of coffins, the aim is to save a tree while simultaneously planting another. People spend a large portion of their time utilizing the earth’s resources — fossil fuel in our cars, minerals and wood in our homes, trees and plant material for paper and books, and an enormous amount of fresh water used for all sorts of purposes. Burial pods provide the opportunity to donate a relatively miniscule proportion of flora back to the earth.
Some may oppose the initiative on grounds of religion or tradition. Others may cite simple logistics: If a body is to be kept natural for a burial pod, it mustn’t be filled with preservatives, thus necessitating quick burials for fear that decomposition might occur. Open caskets are hardly an option if the funeral congregation needs to worry about the smell. Indeed, how can there be a funeral at all without the casket? While potentially sacrilegious, I propose that tradition is never a reason to continue doing anything and that ceremony will shift with technique. Indeed, burial pods have numerous benefits that outweigh the potential changes a shift in paradigm would incite.
The imagination flourishes with the right sort of emphasis: Cemeteries will become sacred woodlands, covered with trees of all types. A visit to the cemetery will provide not only a learning opportunity for children — identifying various species of trees — but also the ability to connect with a loved one who has passed. Caring for a living tree might feel like caring for one’s relative, allowing love and memories to extend beyond life. While regular cemeteries might feel vacant and cold, trees can be hugged, picnicked under and climbed. To imagine reentering the earth upon death is to consider that earth sacred in life.
I foresee casket burials continuing far into the distant future. I will certainly respect those who decide that this is the way they’d like to be preserved. However, I intend, if possible, to become a tree. If only metaphorically and minutely, this earth deserves something of me when I go, and I intend to give myself to it.