
I am doulaing.
As someone with a propensity for making nouns into action verbs, I am doulaing.
That means that an extremely articulate and homeless woman with a chronic disease for 33 years has asked for help to find her resources for a dignified way to leave the world of the living.
That means a man dying of cancer 3,000 miles away got my number from a mutual friend and called me to say he doesn't understand why he isn't well since he sees the light everywhere and feels jubilant.
That means a woman who I know from my weekly, virtual Death Cafes for five years but have never met in person, joined me for dinner last week on her first tour of the west coast.
That means that I am trying to find a cheap restaurant that will allow 25 local doulas to gather and dream together of that which we are building.
That means that I am trying to find a way to offer my courses again through the Elisabeth Kubler Ross Foundation, knowing some of the administrative challenges we have while feeling the pull to teach.
That means coaching a 75 year-old woman who took my class "End of Life Intentions for Dummies, Pragmatists and Seekers" and realized she needed to reboot for her 'third act' in life after healing from hip replacement, the loss of her wife and of her dog.Â
That means that I am filled with gratitude for my healthy 87 year-old client who wants to confess all his regrets and mistakes so that he can die in peace.
End of life doulas do all sorts of things in all sorts of way to provide compassionate support, witnessing, guidance and education. The texture, the flow, the meaning-making, the rhythm of it moves all around. We move into it and through it and with it. We are doulaing.Â
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