It started
Late one summer night while staying near the Neem Karoli Baba Ashram in Taos, New Mexico, I woke up from a deep sleep repeating the words “death doula.” I had no idea what this was or what it meant, but with some help from my teacher David Harshada Wagner and the grace of Maharaji I ended up back in India at the tomb of Mother Teresa and thrown in Kalighat caring for the dying. I thought I would be completely out of my element: no medical training, no ties to the Catholic Church, no background in hospitality, no experience with death. But I had my training and practice of Bhakti Yoga. I had the practice of the Heart. I fell deeply in love as I cared for these men. To hold their hands, feed them, caress their heads. I saw men suffering like I could never imagine. And I saw men laugh with reckless joy. I watched men take their last breath. Each moment was truly a gift.
My deep spiritual practice was being put to use and tested. To look into the eyes of a stranger who could have lived their life as a saint or a sinner and see them as a soul. To love them no matter what the story was.
Since then I’ve trained with Bodhi Be, Deanna Cochran, and Amy Glenn Wright at the Death Doula Conference in Maui. I sat with Ram Dass and am honored to carry on the work he so loving passed down. The world of death work was new to me, but it's new to most of us and whether we like to or not—we’ll all have at least one chance at it.