ash marrow

Hello, I’m Ash (she/her).

From young ones to elders, I have always found the most gratifying and stimulating work to be in understanding and tending to other humans. I have worked as a preschool teacher, paraeducator, camp counselor, nanny, elder caregiver, medication technician, hospice companion, outreach worker for unhoused youth, community mental health worker, private practice clinical counsellor and, now, as a death doula.

I believe that defining life on our own terms is an important part of retaining power in a world that can feel absurd; and that it is actually our responsibility to create that meaning rather than stumble upon it passively. The constant change and uncertainty of life, while terrifying, is also the engine that makes life possible to begin with. To me, The Unknown is a sacred thing to be courageously revered and danced with, despite our fears. Leaning into discomfort and practicing death-consciousness in small doses regularly is something that benefits people of all ages and health statuses because it puts us in touch with our values and what we want from life in an immediate and tangible way. We’re able to live and love with fullhearted abandon when we accept the ephemeral nature of our time on this rock.

Between my professional experiences and personal values, moving into a supportive role in community death care feels natural. In my personal, professional, and community relationships, I am passionate about the cultural de-stigmatization and de-medicalization of death. Death-tending is a practice we were all once literate in as small villages. Things like sitting vigil, building vessels, honoring the body, performing theshold rites, and embodied rituals of grief and praise were woven into people’s dying time. The pressures of modernity, globalization, and profit have warded off death to sterile, clinical corners of avoidance we now outsource to specialists. I believe participating in re-culturing some of these practices back into our homes and relationships now can prepare us for our own good deaths one day.

All this being said, I acknowledge that the idea of a “good death” is a privilege often only afforded to those with enough foresight, finances, and buffers against oppression and violence. Many people die unexpectedly, early, and without dignity. Many people are also offered so-called “dignity” coercively from abysmal care systems that have failed disabled folks. To put a reverent coat on these deaths is not fair to the the deep injustice and grief they and their loved ones must endure. Perhaps then, finding the “goodness” in their death lies in the praise of their lives, finding ways to honor and connect with their memory, and learning to tend to your grief in a way that allows you to continue to live, and to push on for a different world. As Megan Devine says frequently, “many things cannot be fixed, only carried”. I do not believe grief is a problem to be solved, but the ongoing price of embracing life in all its beauty and complexity.

Outside of doula work, I work full time as a counselor and volunteer in wildlife rehab. I am a partner, auntie, godmother, and charge to a tiny-eared, big-hearted dog and the sweetest little hellion of a cat. I am a griever, through and through, and I am better for it. New to the valley, I have called the lands of many other people home before this: the Kumeyaay, the Tongva, the Cheyenne, Arapahoe, and Ute, and the Duwamish, Puyallup, and Nisqually. I come from mixed European ancestry and am learning to reconnect to my own land & body based practices that have been obscured in the long tapestry of colonization and capitalism in north america.
I am a scifi & fantasy nerd, elder goth, poetry-lover/sometimes poet. Some of my favorite things are the “small kingdoms” of the forest floor, coffee on a cool morning, thrifting odd treasures, defiant hope, and tasting all of life’s novelty while I’m still able to.