Autumn: Hey everyone, and welcome back to the show! Rachel, let me throw a question your way to kick things off: Why do you think we spend so much of our lives actively avoiding the one thing that's, you know, 100% guaranteed to happen to all of us? Death. Rachel: Well, Autumn, I think talking about death is daunting. It feels like staring into the abyss, right? You kind of hope that if you just don't look, it won't... get you. But I'm guessing our guest today, Caitlin Doughty, probably thinks that strategy is, shall we say, less than optimal? Autumn: Exactly! Caitlin, in her book Smoke Gets in Your Eyes & Other Lessons from the Crematory, really pulls back the curtain on the funeral industry. She shares her experiences working in a crematory, and it's so much more than just industry secrets. It's a philosophical, and honestly, surprisingly funny look at death, grief, and why we're so awkward about mortality. Rachel: Humor in a crematory? That's... unexpected. Alright, so besides the obvious—that we all, inevitably, die—what's her main point? Autumn: She argues that our modern way of dealing with death—you know, avoiding it, sanitizing it, and cushioning it with expensive services—actually does more harm than good. She invites us to be honest about grief, to accept the natural cycle of life and death. She wants us to rethink how we say goodbye, whether it's through natural burials, completely new rituals, or even just, gasp, talking about it. Rachel: So she's basically saying we need to give the Grim Reaper a makeover, huh? What exactly are we diving into today? Autumn: First, we’ll explore why society is so death-averse. We are going to look at those deep-rooted cultural reasons behind our fear. Then, we’ll dig into how confronting death, instead of running from it, can actually change us in a positive way. And lastly, we’ll examine this growing movement Caitlin's advocating for: approaching mortality differently through awareness and sustainable practices. Rachel: Okay, so we're essentially dissecting how thinking about death can actually make life more... alive? I'm intrigued. Let's get to it.

Autumn: Okay, let's talk about where this all begins the roots of death avoidance in our society. Caitlin Doughty's own story is a great illustration of how this denial takes shape. When she was only eight, she witnessed a death that was so stark and impactful that it triggered a lot of fear and anxiety in her. It became this kind of desperate attempt to control something completely uncontrollable. Rachel: Yeah, that makes sense. Isn't that what underlies all this distancing? The euphemisms, like "passed away" or "gone to a better place," the curtains in hospitals, the funeral homes – it's like society putting its fingers in its ears and singing "la la la" really loudly. Autumn: Exactly! By softening or even avoiding the language of death, we're shielding ourselves from a reality that, you know, we all have to face eventually. But what's worse is the emotional isolation it creates. Doughty points out how personal grief gets minimized. She even dismissed her own sadness as "pathetic" when she was a child, because society teaches us that there are always "bigger" tragedies out there. Rachel: Right, that whole "someone else has it worse" thing. It's like, the "thoughts and prayers" of emotional repression. But isn't there a reason we avoid grief? I mean, nobody wants to feel pain; it's instinct to push it away. Autumn: True, but repressing it doesn't make it go away it just festers, right? Doughty argues that by avoiding the natural process of mourning, we miss out on the catharsis and growth that come from really confronting loss head-on. Historically, people didn't have the luxury of avoiding it. Death wasn't hidden; it was just...part of life, plain and simple. Rachel: Like kids singing nursery rhymes about plagues. Which, by the way, has to be the bleakest childhood pastime I've ever heard of. But also...refreshingly honest, in its own way. Autumn: Exactly! In early North America, children were often deeply involved in funerals – carrying coffins, seeing death up close. It was normalized. Now compare that to today, where kids are often kept completely separate from death, whether it's a pet dying or a family member. We sanitize it, compartmentalize it, and push it into these sterile rituals. But Doughty believes this detachment “really” robs us of something. Rachel: Okay, but hold on a second. Aren't these "sterile rituals" meant to help? Isn't that why we have funeral homes in the first place to make death a little less overwhelming? Autumn: Not necessarily. Doughty critiques how modern funerary practices often focus more on appearances – embalming bodies to look "peaceful," creating polished, impersonal ceremonies. It's like we're packaging death in a way that keeps it at arm's length, instead of grappling with it honestly. And she's seen the fallout from this firsthand families feeling disconnected, uncertain, even helpless when faced with loss. Rachel: So instead of embracing reality, we're handing off grief to someone else like outsourcing our mourning. It feels clinical. Efficient, sure. But maybe a bit…hollow. Autumn: Exactly. In Doughty's words, this shift turns what used to be rituals of connection into mere transactions. Historically, mourning was raw, deeply communal. Community members would rally in support of the grieving, sharing the pain and processing it together. Those acts allowed people to “really” feel, to remember the fragility of life and embrace its beauty. Rachel: Okay, fair enough. So what's her solution? If we're this deep into denial, how does society just...snap out of it? Autumn: Well, it's not an easy fix. But Doughty insists it starts with honest conversations. She champions what's called "death positivity" a cultural shift toward accepting and preparing for death, rather than pretending it doesn't exist. It's about demystifying mortality. Rachel: "Death positivity"? Okay, that's a phrase that needs unpacking. What does that even look like? A bunch of people sitting around in a circle, openly planning their funerals? Autumn: In a way, yes! It means reframing death as a natural and inevitable part of the human experience. Instead of avoiding it out of fear, we confront it as an opportunity for reflection and connection. Education plays a huge role, too. Imagine teaching kids about the life cycle, or communities embracing rituals like green burials not just as eco-friendly measures, but as ways to connect with nature, and each other. Rachel: Okay, I see the appeal in theory. But let's be real no one's signing up to talk about their own end over Sunday brunch. How do you make this approach practical for a society that's built walls against even saying the word "dead"? Autumn: It's definitely a challenge, for sure. But Doughty argues that opening up these dialogues can lead to profound emotional resilience. When we face mortality head-on, whether through education, rituals, or storytelling, we embrace the fragility of life, and that makes us value it even more. It transforms our relationships, our priorities – everything. Rachel: So, basically, we have to stop treating death like Medusa don't look away, meet it head-on, and maybe, just maybe, we come out wiser. Autumn: Precisely. It's about cracking the façade we've built around death and rediscovering its rightful place in human life. Because when we do, we don't just process loss we gain a deeper respect for what it means to be alive.

Autumn: So, moving on from how society avoids death, let's talk about how actually dealing with it can change you. Caitlin Doughty's experience at the crematory is a great example. It shows that working with death isn’t just emotionally draining, it can really make you grow as a person. Rachel: Wait a second. Are we saying that working in a crematory leads to personal growth like, "Wow, I've found my life's purpose in cremating people," or is this about something deeper, like an emotional evolution that comes from being in such an intense environment? Autumn: Definitely the latter. Doughty’s time there changed her way beyond just learning a new job. It changed how she thought about life, love, loss, even her place in the world. It wasn't just a coincidence, she really faced the emotions and realities that came with the job. Rachel: Right. But, this "personal growth" came from dealing with things most of us avoid at all costs. So, what kind of experiences are we talking about here? Where did this growth actually come from? Autumn: It all starts with something our society rarely lets us see—death, in its rawest form. One of the first things Doughty realized was the crematory isn’t just some emotionless factory. Each person who dies has a story, and every family is dealing with their own unique grief. For instance, she talks about an Asian family who set up an altar with incense and fruit before saying goodbye to their loved one. It was such a powerful, intimate moment that really contrasted with the detached way we usually deal with funerals. These rituals gave the family something to hold onto in their grief. Rachel: Okay, so rituals as a grounding mechanism. That makes sense. But do families usually bring altars and fruit, or was this family just more comfortable with death than most? Autumn: Not really. Doughty also saw families who were completely overwhelmed by grief, with no idea how to deal with it. There's this story she tells about a young boy who had to put a flower on his mother’s coffin. It was heartbreaking—a child trying to say goodbye, while the adults around him were in shock. That contrast—the boy’s natural reaction versus society’s awkwardness—taught Doughty how important it is to mourn authentically. Rachel: So, she’s learning life lessons from both intimate cultural rituals and a little boy lost in grief. And I’m just trying to figure out how she got through her days without completely falling apart emotionally. Autumn: That's where coping mechanisms come in! Humor was a big one for her, even if it was dark humor. Her boss, Mike, even made jokes about the dead, like saying a guy looked ready for a BBQ because of his casual clothes. It was morbid, but it wasn’t mean-spirited. These jokes were a way to lighten the mood, a quick break from the emotional intensity of the job. Rachel: I can see how that would help, but wouldn’t joking about death risk seeming insensitive? What if families overheard? Autumn: She definitely worried about that. But Doughty eventually realized that gallows humor isn’t about being insensitive, it’s a way to survive. When you’re constantly around death, humor gives you room to breathe. It’s not about making fun of the dead, it’s about keeping yourself emotionally balanced while still doing meaningful work. Rachel: Balanced… right. A joke here, a moment of real compassion there. But let's be real, humor can only take you so far. What happened when even the jokes weren’t enough? Autumn: That’s when she learned to detach a bit. She started to compartmentalize her emotions, treating the work with almost clinical precision. She talks about handling the body of a baby girl who died just hours after birth. Caitlin carefully cradled this tiny, fragile form, watching the mother collect a lock of her baby’s hair, a heartbreakingly tender moment. It was incredibly sad, but Caitlin had to shut down a part of herself just to get through it. Rachel: Wow. That’s a whole different level of heartbreak. But it sounds risky—relying too much on detachment could make it easier to stop feeling altogether. Did she ever wonder if that professional distance came at a cost? Autumn: Absolutely. She struggled with the idea that being detached might make her seem cold or uncaring. The challenge was finding the right balance—enough distance to protect herself, but not so much that she lost the empathy that made her work meaningful. And she realized that even in the most clinical parts of her job, there was still room for deep respect and connection. Rachel: Like what? What kinds of moments bridged that gap for her? Autumn: One story she shares is about preparing a man named Juan Santos, who died of a drug overdose. She watched Bruce, an embalmer, carefully restore Juan’s body for his family. It seemed like just a technical task, but Caitlin realized it was about so much more—preserving memories, honoring the person, recognizing the connection. For her, it changed the way she saw even the most routine parts of her job. Rachel: I get that. It’s like finding meaning in what seems like the smallest, most mechanical gesture. But, you know, it’s easy to romanticize that when you’re talking about touching moments like this. She must've also had days where it didn’t feel fulfilling, right? Just… a grind? Autumn: Of course. Not every interaction was this amazing moment of clarity. But that’s where her commitment to reframing death became so important. She found inspiration in stoic philosophy, like Rachelus Aurelius’s idea that we can thrive not by avoiding difficult truths, but by facing them head-on. That became her mantra in the crematory: accepting death as both a challenge and a teacher. Rachel: So, this wasn’t just a job for her—it was an education in resilience. Accept the fragility, the unpredictability and you come out stronger. Is that the idea? Autumn: Exactly. But one of her key takeaways was how transformative it is to actually bear witness. Being present in those raw, final moments gave her a deep sense of connection to humanity. She talks about a son pressing the button to cremate his mother’s body. That act—simple, almost symbolic—represented something so profound: actively participating in the goodbye, rather than hiding from it. Rachel: There’s that "intimacy with death" idea again, right? Putting ritual and intention back into something that’s often treated like it's an assembly line process. Autumn: Exactly. And for Doughty, those moments became guideposts—reminders of what it means to live fully, to grieve authentically, and to embrace the fact that nothing lasts forever. It shaped not just how she approaches funerals, but her entire worldview.

Autumn: Building on personal experiences, we start to see how broader cultural and philosophical views shape our understanding of death. Caitlin Doughty’s work on promoting a death-positive mentality really gets into this—how society can change when we stop trying to shut death out and start accepting it as a normal part of life. It’s not just about personal growth, though that's a big part of it. It's also about changing how we approach everything from education to our impact on the environment to create a healthier relationship with mortality. Rachel: So, we’re talking about going from completely avoiding the topic of death to, like, putting it in the school curriculum? That's quite the change. How does she think we can make that shift without everyone freaking out? Autumn: Well, education is her first big focus. Doughty believes we need to start talking about death openly, even with young children. She often mentions the anthropologist Ernest Becker, who argued that a lot of what we do is driven by our fear of death. If we keep death hidden, that fear just grows and unconsciously affects our lives. Education can address that fear head-on, making mortality less scary and more something we feel equipped to deal with. Rachel: Okay, but who’s going to sign their kids up for "Death 101"? It hardly sounds like a must-have subject, right up there with algebra. Autumn: Actually, it could fit in really well with what we already teach. Think about biology—we learn about life cycles, ecosystems, decomposition. That’s the science of it. But we could also add in cultural and historical perspectives, exploring how different communities deal with death through rituals and practices. It's something kids are naturally curious about, and it would give them tools to understand mortality before it feels overwhelming. Rachel: Okay, fair enough. But for adults, isn’t the problem that they've already learned to fear death? You can’t just undo years of avoidance with a few lectures. Autumn: True, which is why Doughty also says community engagement is so important. Grassroots movements like The Order of the Good Death are making a real difference by teaching people how to take back control of death care. They offer workshops on things like home funerals, giving families practical advice and the okay to be involved in caring for their loved ones. It’s really transformative—turning something that’s usually outsourced and impersonal into something personal and meaningful. Rachel: Right, so she’s encouraging people to go from hiring professionals to doing it themselves. But doesn’t that feel… a little too DIY for something so emotional? Isn’t the whole point of funeral homes to make things easier when you're already dealing with something so difficult? Autumn: That’s a common misconception. Doughty argues that the convenience of modern funeral services often takes away the emotional connection people need. It separates families from truly mourning. Contrast that with a home funeral, where loved ones might wash and dress the body themselves, spending hours saying goodbye. It’s less about the technical stuff and more about the intimacy of those final moments. Rachel: I can see the value in that. But isn't it asking a lot of someone to be both a mourner and a funeral director? Emotions are already running high – does that really help, or does it just add more stress? Autumn: It might seem overwhelming at first, but it can be surprisingly empowering. Families often find a sense of agency, knowing they cared for their loved one right to the end. Doughty says these personalized rituals don’t just help with grief; they create a real connection to the person they lost, making the goodbye feel genuine, not just a procedure. It’s the difference between watching loss happen and actively participating in saying goodbye. Rachel: It’s interesting, this idea of reconnecting with death through hands-on rituals. But I bet the environmental argument might be even more persuasive for a lot of people. If we’re not drawn to the intimacy, maybe we’re drawn to the sustainability? Autumn: Absolutely. And that leads to her second focus: natural burial. Doughty highlights how conventional methods—embalming, metal caskets, concrete vaults—are bad for the planet as well as our emotions. Embalming, for example, fills bodies with toxic chemicals like formaldehyde that leak into the ground. And metal caskets don’t decompose, trapping the body as if we’re trying to deny nature. Rachel: So, when we try to sanitize death, we’re not just shielding ourselves; we’re actually poisoning the earth where we bury our loved ones. That’s pretty ironic. Autumn: Exactly. Natural burial does the opposite. Imagine a body wrapped in a biodegradable shroud or placed in a simple wooden casket, going straight into the ground to become part of the ecosystem. It’s not just about being biodegradable; it’s about honoring death as part of life, letting our remains nourish the earth. Doughty often mentions the environmentalist Edward Abbey as an example. When he died, his friends buried him in the Arizona desert with just a sleeping bag—a poetic return to nature. Rachel: "To nourish the roots of a tree or the wings of a vulture.” That’s the Abbey philosophy, right? It’s profound, sure—but how many people are really ready to skip the marble headstone and eternal preservation for, say, a juniper tree? Autumn: More than you might think. Green burials are becoming increasingly popular, not just for the environmental benefits, but because they offer a deeper emotional connection for families. Watching someone return to the earth has a powerful symbolism—it reminds us that life, even in death, continues in new ways. Plus, families can often be more involved in the process, witnessing or helping with the burial, which helps them connect and process their grief. Rachel: Okay, let me push back a bit. Isn’t there something to be said for tradition? Despite the issues with embalming and caskets, those practices exist because they mean something to a lot of people. How does Doughty avoid alienating people who find comfort in those traditional rituals? Autumn: That’s a really important point. Doughty isn't trying to get rid of traditions; she’s suggesting that they evolve. Take the Infinity Burial Suit she talks about, for example—a biodegradable garment with mushroom spores that help with decomposition. It combines innovation and ritual, offering spiritual symbolism and ecological harmony. Similarly, she encourages families to create their own personalized practices, ones that still honor tradition but without the harmful aspects of modern methods. Rachel: So, instead of embalmed perfection, we're swapping in mushrooms to help with the process. I never thought I’d say this, but that’s both strange and kind of brilliant. Still, how do you even promote something like that? Not everyone's going to jump on the "human composting" bandwagon just because it's trendy. Autumn: True, but changing cultural norms takes time. Doughty knows these shifts won’t happen overnight or be for everyone. She’s not trying to say there’s one right way, but rather to give people informed options. And that's where education and community support come back in—helping individuals choose paths that reflect their values, whether they're ecological, spiritual, or cultural. Rachel: So, basically, she's not asking people to abandon what death means to them; she's inviting them to rethink it with an open mind and intention. It’s like saying, instead of a generic farewell, create something meaningful for you—and preferably not at the planet’s expense. Autumn: Exactly. And beyond that, rethinking how we approach death teaches us something important about life: to value connection, to accept that things change, and to honor both the earth and the people we share it with. It’s not just about changing how we die—it’s about transforming how we live.

Autumn: Okay, so to bring our conversation to a close, we've explored Caitlin Doughty's work—from how society often shies away from death , to how facing mortality directly can “really” help us grow as individuals , and her push for a death-positive movement that rethinks our customs and approaches. Basically, she’s saying that avoiding death actually limits our ability to fully live. Rachel: Yeah, and while I'll admit, some of her ideas might be a bit of a stretch for society right now – like widespread green burials or home funerals – you can’t “really” argue with her central point. Ignoring death doesn’t make it go away; it just leaves us totally unprepared when it inevitably shows up. Autumn: Precisely. And if we can become more at peace with death—whether that means talking about it more, rethinking our rituals, or adopting more eco-friendly practices—we not only become more emotionally resilient but also feel more connected to each other and to nature. Rachel: So, maybe the real challenge isn't just figuring out how to die, but learning how to live better because we know we’re going to die. A bit heavy, I know, but definitely worth pondering, don’t you think? Autumn: Absolutely. And who knows, maybe if we embrace death with the same attention and creativity that we bring to other important moments in life, we can make our goodbyes as meaningful as everything that came before.