The word doula means “servant woman” in Greek. And the male version doulo “servant man”. The term for midwife comes from this word. In other words, an attendant. Death Midwifery in this case.
Servant persons who assist with the process of dying. There’s many ways this is done. Some hold the hands of the dying and comfort them. Others help them write their own obituary. Some are a type of religious or spiritual person who aids the person with last rites type rituals.
And some even care for the family and help them anyway they can.
There’s a lot to be said about them. But few people have ever written about being a death doula or doulo for nature. All too frequently it seems the dead trees and animals have no one to care for them. You just see roadkill on the side of the road. And it’s our natural inclination to not go near it.
Because of the smell and fear of contagion. Or even just because of the negative energy inside the body. All are valid reasons. And not just anyone can do this. But it should be noted that some people do go out of their way to do it.
The connection between nature veneration and death
Veneration is not “worship”. You aren’t praying to an animal or a tree. Nature worship means “venerating” or respecting the spirits of nature. Giving them offerings. The confusion comes from us giving offerings and praying to them.
Most people think that’s only for Gods. Not true. In the Catholic Church, Saints are given offerings and prayed to. But they aren’t worshipped. They are venerated.
Because they have a direct line to God.
So the spirits of nature, beings created by the Gods, have a direct link to them as well. That’s why we often give offerings and pray to them. The prayer isn’t “an act of worship”. But one of respectfully asking their intercession. Before the creators.
I wrote an article a while back about the Green Dead. A class of dead people who seem to also be nature spirits. In fact, I learned from my English associates that the line between the dead and the Fae is a very thin one. In some cases, a dead person comes back as a Faerie. Such as the case of the Banshee.
From Ben Síde (woman of the Faery mound). The earth mounds being the home of the Fae in Ireland. Maybe it’s because the Irish Fae live in the Earth deep underground. Perhaps that’s why they have many associations with the dead. Who knows?
But one of the things that I realized early on is that necromancy, as well as nature magic calls to me. My magic is based on being a custodian of places and lands. And even animals. Even if they fucking hate me. My Masters have always said it’s a God thing.
You know, caring for their creations. It’s one of the strangest things in my life. That nature magic intersects with my caring for the dead. For as long as I can remember, I have cared for the dead animals. From small lizards and bugs to baby birds, and rats.
For dead tree I try to honor them. By making them shrines. And leaving offerings to Gods or spirits on them. Connecting them with their creators even more. But if I help them, they are helping me.
I use them to bury dead animals also. And I pray to a God of nature for the souls of the dead animals. I let my instincts tell me which of the Gods I should pray to. And I make little shrines for them. Specifically, I make rock pile shrines.
I watch as the dead bodies, now buried, bring vegetation. It’s a natural wonder to see the bodies of the dead give life to the soil. I once buried a small white mouse who passed away in our care. I buried him in soil that was barren and sandy. But overtime, the spot where I buried him has become a beautiful garden.
I didn’t plant anything there. All I did was leave his body. And ever since then, it has had flowers. And now green plants. And it’s not sandy anymore.
Obviously it’s the body fertilizing the soil. But I also like to think that it’s a sign of the animal being at peace. I do this as an offering to both the spirits and the Gods. I mourn the poor little creatures.
Baby
Today I buried a baby blue jay.
The poor creature had apparently fallen out of it’s nest in the middle of the night. The storm waters must have flushed it out. It was on the ground, cold. In it’s final moments I carried him/her in my hand. It nuzzled my fingers for warmth.
I kept my feathery baby at my breast. I tried to save it. But ultimately, the child passed away a few minutes later. I fed the baby water from a drop before it passed. So it could at least quench it’s thirst before it passed.
I went crazy calling up wildlife rehabbers and reading articles on how to save a baby bird. But ultimately the little chick couldn’t hold on. It passed away. I buried it near the same place I buried the white mouse. Well adjacent.
To a spot close to it that doesn’t have any vegetation. The wet soil made it easier to bury the baby. I hope that means it can give life to the soil. I am saddened by it’s passing. But at least the baby is with the Gods now.
Rest In Peace baby,
Adventures of A Mage In Miami 