The Soul in Transition: What the World’s Wisdom Traditions Teach
In loving memory of all our departed loved ones.
There are paths we choose, and there are paths that reveal themselves. I never set out to become a death doula. There was no moment of training, no ceremony, no decision. The calling appeared the way certain truths do, unexpected, unannounced, and deeply familiar.
My first experience came in my early twenties. My cousin, who had lived with us and was like an older sister to me, was dying of lymphoma. She was brilliant, charismatic, courageous, elegant, beautiful, and endlessly creative. A fashion designer with her own atelier by the age of twenty, she shaped my imagination from childhood. I spent my school lunch breaks and many weekends in her studio, learning to sew, trying on the garments she made, absorbing the grace of her craft. She was one of my heroes.
She died in her early thirties. It was unimaginable. I had grown up in a time where death was visible all around me, war, conflict, and the loss of young lives were part of the world I knew. But this was the first time death came so close, inside my own family, touching someone I loved, someone I admired, someone whose presence shaped my everyday life. Until then, the only family deaths I had known were my grandparents, and even those felt distant, almost natural in the way childhood accepts the passing of the elderly. Losing her was different. She had already received one of the highest fashion honors in Côte d’Ivoire, created the costumes for a beloved national film, and become a leading designer in the country, all before turning thirty. Her future was radiant, and then everything stopped.
My beautiful late cousin Karine Lorofi
When her illness reached its final moment, I rushed to her bedside and stayed until her last breath. I held her hand, tried to support her through the most critical moments, and often felt I might faint from the intensity of it all. I was young, unprepared, not yet on my dedicated spiritual path, and suddenly confronted with an experience far larger than anything I understood. Many times I was alone with her, watching her move from full consciousness into stillness. It was overwhelming, sacred, and devastating. I had no language for what was happening, yet I knew with certainty that her soul was continuing its journey, and that I was being called to walk beside her as far as I could. Looking back, it was my initiation into this vocation.
Years passed, and the same call returned again and again. I was present at deaths in family homes, in different countries, and within different cultures. Sometimes I arrived before the final breath, sometimes at the exact moment of departure, sometimes after the soul had already left the body. Over the past twenty-seven years, I have accompanied around thirty physical transitions. I have witnessed deaths from illness, sudden accidents, unborn children, the elderly, soldiers, and lives taken by violence. And in addition to physical transitions, I have also worked with deceased souls, supporting them in the subtle work of release, completion, and movement beyond this world.
Eventually, I discovered that there was a name for what I had been doing all along: death doula. The vocation came long before the title. For many years, I accompanied the dying, supported families through loss, and served souls after death without knowing there was formal language for it. I now know that I am a death doula. I accompany the dying and those who love them, and I accompany souls beyond death. It is not a title of importance. It is a privilege. To be invited to this threshold between this world and the next is an honor that has transformed my understanding of death, the passage of the soul, and the sacred importance of that moment. It has also reshaped how I see life, its impermanence, its fragility, and the ways we must loosen our attachments to what does not endure.
November 2nd, All Souls’ Day
Today is a double celebration.
For Christians around the world, November 2nd is All Souls’ Day, a day dedicated to praying for the dead. And in Mexico, it is Día de los Muertos, the Day of the Dead, a beautiful tradition in which families welcome the souls of their ancestors with altars, flowers, candles, food, photographs, and prayer. Although often associated with Catholicism, Día de los Muertos carries ancient Indigenous roots. It is a celebration of memory, of love that survives death, and of the belief that the border between worlds is permeable.
In the Catholic tradition, All Souls’ Day honors the dead who are believed to be in a state of purification, purgatory, after leaving the body. The word purgatory comes from purgare, meaning “to cleanse.” It is not a place of punishment, but a state in which the soul is healed of what remains unloving or unfinished so it can enter full union with the Divine. Catholic teaching holds that the living, the dead in purification, and the saints in heaven are bound together in the Communion of Saints. Love does not end with the last breath. The living can support the dead through prayer, remembrance, and acts of charity offered in their name. It is a relationship of solidarity across realms.
This day holds a special meaning for me, not only as a Catholic, but as someone who has spent nearly three decades accompanying the dying and working with souls after death. I know how heavy grief can be. Parents mourning children, spouses mourning partners, friends trying to make sense of sudden loss, families holding the weight of illness, violence, or tragedy. And beyond our personal lives, there is the pain we feel for the world, the innocent lives lost in war, conflict, and injustice.
As my work as a death doula expanded, I encountered practices from many spiritual traditions. Again and again, I found the same wisdom in different forms. People everywhere, across cultures and religions, honor their dead, pray for them, speak to them, and believe their souls continue to journey.
This is why I want to share the wisdom I have learned. I hope it brings comfort to those who are grieving, to those who feel death was unfair, and to those still carrying the memory of someone they love. I hope it reassures anyone who feels torn apart by separation. Because the truth is simple and profound:
we remain connected, love continues to work across realms.
What Other Traditions Teach About the Journey of the Soul
As my vocation unfolded, I discovered that every culture holds a language for the passage of the soul. My Christian faith remains my foundation, yet the work I do opened a window into many spiritual traditions. Through these experiences, I saw how deeply humanity honors the moment of death.
In Islam, the body is washed with care, wrapped in a simple white shroud, and buried quickly, usually within hours. The grave is unadorned. The ritual is direct, humble, and dignified. Islam teaches that the soul enters Barzakh, a state between this life and the Day of Resurrection, and that prayers and charity in the name of the deceased continue to support the soul. When my father passed away, he was buried according to Islamic tradition. It was a beautiful and deeply meaningful process, simple, reverent, and filled with love. It felt true to who he was in his old age: humble, spiritual, and at peace. The theology behind it was just as striking: the belief that as the soul enters Barzakh, it is accompanied by the prayers and goodness of those who remain on earth.
At my father’s burial place
In Indian Hinduism, I witnessed the tradition most vividly at Pashupatinath in Kathmandu (Nepal), one of the holiest temples dedicated to Shiva and one of the most significant open-air cremation grounds in the world. Cremations take place along the Bagmati River. The body is bathed, blessed, adorned, and placed on the funeral pyre. Fire becomes the purifier, returning the body to its elements and releasing the soul. Hindu teaching says the soul, the ātman, travels through spiritual realms called lokas, guided by the prayers and offerings of the living. The destination is moksha, liberation from the cycle of rebirth and union with the Divine.
In Bali, I have been present at a few funerals and was a couple of times deeply entrusted to accompany families through every stage of ritual. The Balinese tradition honors the soul with chanting, prayer, offerings, and the presence of the community. Death is embraced as a sacred passage. The rituals reflect the belief that the soul is on a journey and that the family continues to support that journey.
Tibetan Buddhism teaches that after death, the soul enters the Bardo, “the in-between,” where consciousness continues, releases attachment, and prepares for awakening or rebirth. Rituals, mantras, and spoken guidance help the soul navigate this state. A foundational source of insight for me has been The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, a modern presentation of Tibetan Buddhist teachings on death, the afterlife, and how to prepare spiritually for the moment of transition. It offers practical guidance for preparing the mind for death and for supporting the dying.
Judaism teaches that the soul may enter Olam Ha-Ba, “the world to come,” or undergo purification in Gehinom, a temporary state of correction and healing. Loved ones recite the Kaddish and give charity to elevate the soul. In Kabbalah, the soul continues its work across lifetimes until its repair is complete.
Sikhism teaches that the soul moves through cycles of birth and death until reaching mukti (also a Hindu concept), liberation through remembrance of the Divine and righteous living. Communities pray and sing hymns to bless the soul. Jain dharma teaches that the soul moves immediately into another state shaped by karma, and families honor the dead through remembrance and ethical action. Many Indigenous traditions honor ancestors through ceremony, offerings, and songs, seeing them as present and active in the life of the living.
Different languages.
Different rituals.
Different scriptures.
Yet the theological insight is consistent:
Death is a transition, not a disappearance.
The soul continues to journey.
Across these traditions, there is a shared belief that the living can support the dead. Through prayer, remembrance, blessings, offerings, sacred words, charity, and good deeds done in someone’s name, the living strengthen and accompany the soul. These actions are considered real forms of assistance.
Whether one speaks of purgatory, Barzakh, Bardo, Olam Ha-Ba, moksha, or mukti, each name expresses a similar truth:
the soul continues a process of purification, release, or completion. This transitional state is one of the most important moments in the existence of the soul.
How We Can Support Our Dead Today
If death is a transition, and not an ending, then our relationship with those who have died is not finished. Across spiritual traditions, the living are invited to participate in the passage of the soul. We are not asked to be passive witnesses. We are asked to accompany.
There are simple and meaningful ways to do this:
Speak their name. Memory is a form of love. To say a person’s name is to affirm that their existence still matters.
Offer a prayer or blessing. Words have weight. Across religions, the spoken blessing for the dead is considered a real form of support.
Light a candle. In many cultures, the flame symbolizes guidance for the soul and hope for those who grieve.
Give charity or do a good deed in their name. Every tradition agrees: acts of goodness offered for someone who has died become a gift for their soul.
Visit their grave or a place of memory. Presence is a form of love. It opens space for healing.
Speak to them silently or aloud. The relationship continues. The soul is not deaf to love.
Forgive them, or ask for forgiveness. Unresolved emotions are part of what burdens the living and the dead. Forgiveness is a blessing on both sides of the veil.
Share their stories. Stories keep the soul active in the world. They allow the person’s virtues to continue shaping life.
These gestures are not symbolic. In the spiritual understanding of many cultures, they are real forms of assistance. They help the dead complete what is unfinished, and they soften the heart of the living.
Some may choose prayer. Others may choose silence, poetry, meditation, or song. What matters is the intention: love offered freely.
All Souls’ Day is a reminder that death is not a break in relationship. The living and the dead remain connected through love. In Christian language, this is called the Communion of Saints. In other traditions, it appears through prayers for ancestors, offerings, meditation, sacred fire, hymn, or ceremony. The vocabulary changes, but the truth holds:
we belong to one another across worlds.
Grief can feel heavy, but love is stronger than loss. Every prayer, every candle, every blessing, every act of charity in the name of someone who has died becomes a bridge. It becomes a way of saying: your life continues to matter, and I am still walking with you.
Death is a transition.
The soul continues its journey.
And we are never powerless.
Today, if there is someone you miss, say their name, send them a blessing, light a candle, offer a prayer, give charity in their honor, or simply sit with their memory. The gesture will reach them.
