Talking to Kids about Death; from the perspective of a Death Priestess

It’s been over six weeks since our last post. Our lives have been riddled with transition; life into death, health to illness and back again, stagnation to change, outdated conditioning into mental repatterining, and releasing old comfort zones that do not nourish the highest good.

Transformation is a kind of death.

Is it not so? Isn’t each release a death of attachment? Every closed door, a cessation to that experience? Even our bodies are in constant revolution of life and death, as our cells perish on the hour and are reborn again. Still, Death is a topic of taboo. We cover it in shrouds and bury it away, don’t linger on it in conversation, and certainly try not to dig it up once it has been put to rest. It seems as if the subject has a contagious grime that no one wants to touch.

I always did like getting my hands dirty.

So let’s unearth this deteriorating matter with a brief reminder of balance. Could there be darkness without light to define the absence? Sound without silence to ride upon? We see it all around us; movement and stillness, growth and decay, male and female, yin and yang. You get the picture. A picture that is not and can never be complete without an inverted reflection to make it whole.

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Death is the holy counterpart of Life.

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Without the metamorphosing power of Death, Life could not prevail. Existence would be imbalanced without this gateway into cyclical renewal. It is integral for the Tri-Unity of Creation, Maintenance, and Destruction; a central pillar without which the structures of realities would collapse. Yet, it is not always easy to embrace.

We’ve been met by Death many times over the past few weeks in very obvious ways, between finding pets hit in the road, to receiving terminal news, and three deaths including the sudden passing of a beloved grandmother. Death has an impeccable knack for making a dramatic entrance into one’s life. I do not shy away from explaining and exposing my children to Death’s face because I want them to be prepared, meet it with acceptance, and not get swept off their feet in painful confusion.

And so I don my Death Priestess robes…

Much of our bereavement around this topic is programmed into us in early childhood. We are taught that Death is an end that must be mourned. What, I ask myself, are we mourning? That which has passed into a new form of existence, or our own attachment to memories and dreams perceived as lost? These are hard questions to ask oneself when grieving. However, if we offer honest answers, they can be a most soothing balm.

Shedding pre-conditioned notions surrounding Death was my first initiation into Death Walking. As one who prepares the Spirit for departure and walks them to the Gate, we must learn to see Death as the portal it is.

When the eternal nature of the Soul is understood, it becomes known that as Spirit releases ties with incarnated life, it rises into a new manifestation of Consciousness.

Just as babies are lovingly brought Earthside by midwives and birth doulas, Souls leaving are tenderly escorted by midwives and doulas of Death, an occupation nearly as old as humanity itself. We make connections on the Other Side with those who will receive the incoming Spirit, and serve as an accompanying confidant to ensure their safe arrival. Each successful delivery is a triumph for both the departed Soul and the Walker, and every journey is an honor to witness.

From this perspective, I have prepared my children to witness the life-death-rebirth cycle that is happening all around us. We discuss the Spark of Life in Nature; What makes the birds alive and singing, or the tiny shoots reach toward the Sun. How the the crushed flower withers without it, or where the rabbit went when all we find are bones. A triumphant moment came for this mama when Remy noticed that “life was missing” from a dead frog’s eyes. So we tenderly buried it’s empty vessel with wildflowers where it will become soil to nurture dormant seeds. Another lesson — rebirth from decay.

We’ve come to realize that Life is happening through us and as us; a conscious part immeshed with the physical, but still independent from it. It brings form to the flower, but leaves its shell behind as seeds filled with potential. It animates creatures and people, but can leave our bodies. Sometimes, our bodies break down beyond repair, and can no longer sustain the Life within it. But because we exist beyond our physiques, evacuation is just another ingress. We are not gone from everywhere, just our physical form like the dried flower.

I carefully remind him that we delicately hold this Spark of Life alongside all Beings. Therefore we respect and honor it in all things. In our home, use the well known Sanskrit term “namasté”, which means “The Spark in me recognizes and bows to the Spark in You, for that is where Life/Source resides”…and connects us.

It is from this acknowledgement and place of understanding that my wild boy softens to touch the ant rather than squashing it, and kisses the flower without plucking. If all children were taught this, how different would the future be? I strongly feel this is a “secret” to ending violent madness among humanity that is currently pervading Earth.

These conclusions have helped my 4 year old grasp the concept of Death without fear, yet retain a deep appreciation for life. However, being an empath like many children today, my son remains an open channel. At a recent funeral he picked up on the tangible despair in the room — it was so thick, I could have sliced it with a knife. Despite all the preparation, his tears flowed in release with his family.

I thought to myself “what a privilege to Love so deeply that we feel abyssal sorrow as it’s antipode.”

Like with all releases, I encouraged him to allow tears to carry it away; to empty so that he can fill again with gratitude for the Life, Love, and Beings around him. With this guidance he can begin accepting both Death and Life as the natural balance they provide.

Namasté & Love,

Mother Woods