On Dying: Reflections and Rethinking Our Relationship with the End of Life

On Dying: Reflections and Rethinking Our Relationship with the End of Life

Recently, I had an experience that got me thinking about death. My aunt, who had been living in a nursing home about an hour from me, died on Saturday. She had been there for the past year, and although I visited her a few times, I always meant to go more. Isn’t that how life often goes? We put things off, thinking we’ll always have more time.

This summer was particularly busy—caring for a friend who had seizures in Ohio, taking my uncle to rehab in Arizona, and then spending five weeks working there myself. I didn’t get to see her much this summer. Then, suddenly, she popped into my mind, and I decided to check in with my cousin about how she was doing. I wasn’t prepared for what I heard. 

The last time I saw her, she was walking and talking. This time, my cousin mentioned that she now had a sitter, which raised a flag for me. When I went to visit her, I found out she had fallen a month prior and had been bedridden ever since. Hospice had given her two to three days to live. Although she was coherent, she was struggling to breathe and clearly in discomfort. I sat with her for a few hours, giving my cousin and his wife a break. She asked about my mom and sister, and fell asleep and called out to my dead Aunt Mary, so I knew she didn’t have much longer. Now, as I head home from her funeral, I find myself reflecting on death.

Why do we avoid the word? In our culture, we often say someone “passed away” rather than acknowledging that they died. What is so scary about the word death? It’s something every single one of us will face. It’s the one thing we all have in common—a portal we all must go through. Alone. Maybe that’s what makes it so frightening.

Birth and death are two sides of the same coin. No one can go through the birth process for us, even though the medical world has tried to intervene and make things more "convenient." But no one can be born for us, and no one can die for us either. Death is an experience we must face

alone, just like birth.

Denial in Modern Society 

In my family, when someone dies, hold viewings where the body is dressed up, made up, and laid out for people to “pay their respects.” The night before the burial, the body—preserved with chemicals—rests in an open casket as we gather to say goodbye. After my mother died, I realized these traditions are more for the living than for the dead. Writing the obituary, coordinating with the funeral home, and gathering with loved ones all help us come to terms with the reality of death. Yet for me, these practices feel disconnected from nature, life, and the process of truly letting go.

In many cultures, especially in the modern West, death is often seen as an uncomfortable or even taboo topic. This avoidance of death seems to reflect a deeper resistance to life’s natural transitions. Our tendency to steer away from conversations about mortality has become so ingrained that we focus more on preserving youth, avoiding aging, and even shying away from the thought of death. But could it be that by pushing death out of sight, we also lose touch with living fully in the present? This avoidance can lead to a subtle but persistent anxiety, as we grasp for external measures to stave off the inevitable, leaving us disconnected from the flow of life.

Our cultural obsession with youth, and the reluctance to confront aging and death, feels like an act of resistance against the natural cycle. We alter our bodies in an attempt to preserve them, all while rarely acknowledging that death is as much a part of life as birth and growth. In trying to deny or delay death, are we also denying ourselves the full experience of life? If we could accept death as inevitable, might we live with more freedom and presence?

Somatids and Returning to the Earth

This desire to return to the earth goes deeper than just avoiding the chemicals used in modern burial practices. There’s a belief that somatids—tiny, possibly immortal particles in our blood—are carried with us through life and remain in the soil long after we’re gone. These somatids are thought to be part of our connection to the land, our ancestors, and the life cycles that have existed for millennia. Our ancestors’ somatids, through their return to the earth, continue to nourish new life. But when we bury ourselves in metal boxes, sealed off from the soil, what happens to those somatids? Do they remain trapped, disconnected from the natural world they were meant to return to?

What I find fascinating is how closely connected the words soil and soul are, only one letter apart. It’s a distinction I’ve often confused in my writing, unintentionally swapping one for the other. It’s as if my subconscious recognizes a deeper truth—that our souls, like the soil, are part of the earth's cycle. Both are integral to the fabric of life. The soil nourishes our physical bodies, while the soul carries our essence. What does it mean, then, when we separate our bodies from the soil? Could we be severing our connection not just to the earth, but to our own souls?

There’s something profoundly spiritual about the idea that these somatids, and by extension, our very essence, are meant to return to the earth, completing the cycle of life. By interrupting this natural process—by isolating our bodies from the soil—we may be severing a connection that has existed since time immemorial, a connection not only to the land but also to our own spirit and to the generations before us. 

Is this modern approach to death another way we’re disconnecting from the cycle of life? By avoiding the word death, by embalming and entombing our bodies, are we also distancing ourselves from the sacredness of life and death itself? In many spiritual traditions, death is seen as a sacred transition, a return to the divine. But our cultural practices seem to sterilize and hide this truth, making death feel more like an event to fear and avoid, rather than a natural part of our existence.

Reclaiming Death

Indigenous cultures have long recognized the importance of embracing death as part of the natural cycle. There is wisdom in seeing death as a return to the earth, where our bodies become part of the soil, nourishing new life. Many of these cultures believe that everything is cyclical: birth, death, rebirth. In many traditions, death is honored with a ritual that involves the entire community, allowing both the individual and the group to transition together. This connection to nature’s cycles can help us redefine our own relationship with mortality, recognizing that in death, we don’t truly end but continue in another form. What would it look like if modern society could integrate these teachings and allow death to be something sacred, natural, and less feared?

Looking to nature, we can see this cycle of life and death playing out continuously. In the forest, a fallen tree decays, nourishing the soil and providing the foundation for new plants to grow. Nothing is wasted; everything serves a purpose. But in human society, we seem to have lost this sense of interconnectedness. We often treat death as an aberration, something to be hidden away in hospitals or funeral homes, instead of a natural process that’s intertwined with life. Indigenous wisdom can remind us of what we’ve forgotten: death is not a failure or an end, but part of the sacred rhythm of existence.

However, our modern society has turned death into a business. Hospitals and funeral homes often profit from the fear and discomfort people feel about death. These industries encourage us to follow their procedures—embalming, expensive caskets, and sterile funeral services—making it seem like the only "proper" way to handle death is through their methods. This profit-driven approach disconnects us from nature and convinces us that death must be managed, sanitized, and controlled. In many ways, it capitalizes on our collective discomfort, pushing us to spend money on services that might not align with our values or the natural cycles we instinctively belong to.

By contrast, nature teaches us that death is simple, organic, and integrated into the larger cycle of life. Indigenous cultures honored this natural flow, allowing the body to return to the earth as part of the land’s renewal. In doing so, they kept death as a sacred, communal experience rather than a commercial transaction. Maybe by reclaiming this wisdom, we can start to see death as less of a commodity and more as a continuation of life’s sacred process.

Holistic View of Life and Death

Taking a holistic approach means seeing death not as an isolated event but as a culmination of the life lived. It’s the body completing its journey, the spirit moving on to another plane, and the individual’s legacy living on through their impact on the world. It might be beneficial for modern medical practices to consider this perspective as well, moving away from the idea of prolonging life at all costs and focusing instead on the quality and depth of the time we have. Conscious dying, death doulas, and other holistic approaches to death can help us come to terms with the process in a way that’s less sterile and more human.

As we rethink our approach to death, we might also rethink how we approach life. If death is not an enemy but part of the natural order, what does that mean for the way we live? Perhaps the constant pressure to achieve, amass wealth, and chase accomplishments stems from our fear of death. And perhaps this fear is perpetuated by the ‘business of death,’ keeping us trapped in a cycle of anxiety and preventing us from fully living. If we truly embraced the cycle of life and death, might we measure success differently? Would we live more in alignment with our values, knowing that our impact continues even after we’re gone?

Conscious Dying: A Sacred Transition

The concept of conscious dying encourages us to face death mindfully, making space for spiritual and emotional preparation. Instead of avoiding death, conscious dying invites us to reflect on our lives, make peace with the past, and focus on leaving a legacy of wisdom or closure. 

In many ways, this mirrors the process my aunt was going through, though not consciously. In her final days, she seemed to draw her family near on a spiritual level, as if calling to us without words. She called out to my aunt Mary (her sister), who had passed before her, as if seeking comfort or guidance for her journey. I believe that when the dying begin speaking to those who have already crossed over, it’s a sign that death is imminent. And just as she called to the departed, I felt her call me—she simply “popped into my head” a few days before she died, and I knew I had to go see her. The same thing happened to my other aunt Shirley (her youngest sister), who felt compelled to visit even after being told not to. I believe these are spiritual knowings, connections we sense deep within us as the veil between life and death begins to thin.

Ram Dass, a spiritual teacher I admire, spoke often about death being a sacred transition rather than a final end. He viewed death as “taking off a tight shoe”—a release from the limitations of the physical body. Ram Dass believed that by staying present and mindful, we could approach death with grace and awareness, transforming it from something fearful into a deeply spiritual experience. His work focused on helping people face death with acceptance, love, and a recognition that it’s simply part of the ongoing cycle of life.

In his teachings on conscious dying, Ram Dass emphasized letting go of the ego—the part of us that fears annihilation. He believed that death gives us a profound opportunity to transcend our attachments and experience a deeper connection with the divine. For him, the soul is eternal, and death is merely a doorway into a new phase of existence. This philosophy aligns with my own belief that while our bodies return to the earth, completing the cycle of life, our spirit continues on.

Creating Sacred Spaces for Death and Death Doulas  

Part of the conscious dying movement involves creating sacred spaces for death—spaces that reflect the significance of the moment and allow the dying person to pass with dignity and peace. This is something that death doulas often help facilitate. In recent years, there has been a growing movement toward conscious dying, supported by the rise of death doulas. Similar to how birth doulas support individuals through the process of birth, death doulas guide individuals and families through the dying process. They offer emotional, spiritual, and logistical support, helping the dying person and their loved ones navigate the many challenges that arise at the end of life. Death doulas often work to create a more peaceful and meaningful experience, creating an atmosphere of love, calm, and acceptance, and honoring the wishes of the individual and encouraging an open dialogue about death.

Death doulas also help shift the focus from fear and avoidance to acceptance and connection. They encourage people to face death with a sense of presence, helping them reconcile unfinished business, express love, and find closure. This support extends to the family, who may struggle with the grief and uncertainty that comes with losing a loved one. Through rituals, compassionate listening, and practical assistance, death doulas can help make death a more human, grounded experience.

In many ways, death doulas are helping to reclaim death from the sterile environments of hospitals and funeral homes, bringing it back to the home, to nature, and to the heart of the community. They create space for conversations about mortality and provide a framework for thinking about death in a way that is healing rather than fearful. As more people seek alternative ways of dying—whether through home funerals, green burials, or simply being more intentional about the end-of-life process—death doulas are becoming an integral part of this shift.

Environmental Impact of Modern Burial Practices 

The way we handle death is not only disconnected from nature but can also be detrimental to the environment. Coffins made from metal or treated wood, concrete burial vaults, and embalming chemicals all leave a lasting mark on the earth. These methods prevent the body from returning to the soil and contributing to the ecosystem. In contrast, green burial options, where bodies are returned to the earth in biodegradable materials, offer a way to reduce this impact and allow for a more natural decomposition process. There’s a rising movement toward eco-friendly burial practices that respect both the individual and the planet. It’s something to consider if we want to honor life’s cycles and leave a lighter footprint even in death.

It’s worth questioning whether our current burial practices truly reflect our values. Do we want to be remembered by a concrete vault, preserved and separated from the earth? Or do we want to return to the land, contributing to the regeneration of life? Green burials offer a way for us to stay connected to the earth and give back to the ecosystem, even after we’re gone. While this concept may seem radical to some, it’s actually how life has always functioned—until the business of death disrupted the natural cycle.

In this same spirit, I want my death to honor the natural cycles of life and nature. I don’t want to be embalmed or placed in a metal box. I want to be buried on my land, where I can return to the earth that has sustained me. I want my body to nourish the soil, just as this land has nurtured me.

Spiritual Implications of How We Handle Death 

The way we approach death could also affect our spiritual understanding of life. If we see death as something to be hidden, avoided, or managed in sterile environments, we may be missing out on a deeper, more meaningful connection to the process of transitioning from this life. Death, when embraced with openness and reverence, can be a profound teacher about the fragility and beauty of life. The spiritual work involved in preparing for death—through practices like meditation, contemplation, and reconciling one’s life—might be something our society can benefit from rediscovering. Perhaps we could all gain something by acknowledging death earlier in life and seeing it as an opportunity for personal and spiritual growth.

In some traditions, people begin preparing for death long before their time comes. It’s a journey of acceptance, forgiveness, and letting go. By facing the inevitability of death, we can release the fears and attachments that hold us back from truly living. How might our lives change if we began thinking about death not as a distant event to be avoided, but as a companion on the journey of life? What if we engaged with it earlier, not out of fear, but out of a desire to live more fully?

Embracing Death and The Energy of Transition: Conscious Dying in a Time of Change

Conscious dying isn’t just about the end—it’s about how we live, too. When we accept death as a natural part of life, we free ourselves from the fear that often holds us back. Instead of avoiding or denying death, we can live more fully, aware of the sacredness of each moment. Ram Dass often spoke of living with mindfulness and love, and how those same principles could guide us through the process of dying. For him, and for many who practice conscious dying, the act of facing death with awareness and grace transforms it from something to fear into an experience of profound connection and peace.

Lately, I’ve been sensing a powerful shift in the world, a surge of energy that feels like we are at an energetic peak. Many have noticed it too, as if we’re all standing at a pivotal moment in time. In the face of this shift, the concepts of conscious dying and the role of death doulas seem more crucial than ever, as it feels like those who aren’t ready for what’s coming are beginning to exit. And the work of those who guide individuals through this sacred transition, is a vital part of helping people navigate the end of life with dignity and mindfulness, especially in times of such profound change. This idea became especially clear to me after the sudden death of my daughters’ lifelong friend.

His passing was unexpected and painful. We had been there for him through the loss of his own mother years ago, and he came to see me as a surrogate mother. His death hit hard, but it also felt like part of something larger. It was as though, in the midst of this energetic intensity, his journey came to a close, much like many others whose transitions seem tied to the larger energy of our time.

Reflecting on these losses and the energy we’re all moving through, I’m reminded of the urgency of living—and dying—consciously. As we face this energetic peak, embracing death as a part of life, with presence and compassion, may be one of the most meaningful things we can do for ourselves and those we love.

And maybe that’s the gift death offers us—the chance to reconnect to the present moment, to let go, and to return to the earth, completing the cycle we’ve been part of all along.

Thank you, Jody and Aunt Trinie, for bringing all of this up for me. I love you.