Mini-deaths and new beginnings: Embracing change

Easter, traditionally represents death, reflection and rebirth; universal experiences in our lives.

From devastating moments of loss to unexpected growth, embracing life’s hardest changes can lead us to new paths (even if at the time it seems unthinkable).

I once visited a 27-year-old man in the orthopaedic ward who had just survived an unimaginable freak accident: sitting under a tree in a local park, the wind picked up and a large and very heavy branch suddenly broke off and fell on top of his legs. It was too heavy for his girlfriend to lift the branch off and free him, an ambulance was called, and he was taken to the hospital, where I met him. What began as a horrific physical ordeal, later revealed something deeper, an inner transformation that had nothing to do with broken bones.

In his words, it was as if he had been “split open.” He spoke of a mystical sense of peace, of seeing clearly how much love surrounded him. A formerly strained relationship with his father saw them reunited. His girlfriend, who bathed and helped toilet him without hesitating became a source of unconditional love, and where he thought he’d feel shame, instead, he found humility. What died in that bed was not just the old self, but rather a version of himself that he no longer needed. And something far more open and tender was born in its place.

As we move through the Easter weekend, it was this patient’s story that came to my mind, as I was  reminded of the deeper symbolism embedded in the story of death and rebirth. Many of us know the Christian tradition, mourning the death of Jesus, then celebrating his resurrection. But long before that, Easter was rooted in nature’s own rhythms, the shift from winter to spring, from darkness to light (in the northern hemisphere). Etymologically and spiritually, Easter itself is rooted from the word Ēostre, a Germanic goddess of dawn, spring, and renewal. Her sacred symbols, the egg and the hare, were emblems of fertility and the awakening world.

In a way, Ēostre and Easter are telling the same story: the darkness hits (death), the tomb opens (pause), and something new is born (resurrection). Whether you see Easter through the eyes of faith, through myth, or through personal experience, the message holds equally, that something in us is always being invited to die, pause and rise throughout the course of our lives.

Mini-deaths in everyday life

Death with a capital “D” is not the only death we face throughout our lives, rather there are many mini-deaths and mini-resurrections we experience that serve as moments to pause, reflect and re-birth ourselves anew. Let’s visit some of them now.

End of a relationship

When a relationship ends, a part of you is lost, the version of yourself that existed in partnership with another. For many, the end can feel like a death. Though the person may still be alive, the shared life you've known has ended. Similar to the grief of death you may experience disorientation, uncontrollable tears and even physical symptoms such as loss of appetite, isolation, and a flood of memories triggered by the smallest everyday places and things you had shared. Then, slowly, a pause comes. You begin to reconnect with yourself, rediscover the things you love, and the shadow of your grief begins to lift, making space for a new version of you to emerge.

Career loss (athlete injury or job loss)

Whether due to a career-ending injury or being laid off, losing your work identity can feel like a kind of death. The version of yourself tied to that role is suddenly gone. You may find yourself asking, Who am I now? and even, Can I go on without that identity? In time, during the pause, a new light may begin to flicker. Slowly, you start to see paths forward and opportunities where previously there were only endings. A new self begins to emerge.

Becoming a parent

Becoming a parent, especially for the first time, is often described as one of life’s most joyful moments. But along with the joy, a quieter death also occurs: the end of your previous self. Life before parenting meant freedom, spontaneity, and quite possibly, self-indulgence. Then, with birth, comes responsibility, vigilance, and selflessness. As the due date approaches, you enter a pause, a liminal space where you sense everything is about to change. And when the baby arrives, a new you is born with it.

Receiving a diagnosis

Much like my patient in the orthopaedic ward, I have seen many others undergo a death of self in the aftermath of a medical diagnosis. I’ve sat with patients who can no longer return to work, who have had to give up dreams, who can’t even make themselves a cup of tea anymore. And it’s not just the patient who changes, carers and family members are forced to transform too. A partner becomes a nurse, a child becomes a voice when words are lost. The way a relationship once existed may be gone, and that, too, requires grieving. In these moments, there is often a pause, a sacred stillness where memories of the old life retreat, and a new reality begins to take shape and something new begins to rise: resilience, redefinition and sometimes even peace.

Moving cities or countries

Moving to a new city, or returning to an old one, can feel exciting, even celebratory, but underneath the surface, there’s often a quiet loss. The version of you that was shaped by one place doesn’t always translate to another. For example, a move from an outback rural Australian  town, to a bustling global Middle Eastern metropolis may require shedding of some old identities in order to navigate the new place. This shift may not be mournful, but it does mark a death of sorts and a rebirth into a different version of yourself.

Death of someone

This goes without saying, and is likely the most obvious of the death, pause and re-birth examples. Thus, I won’t elaborate further, most of us have experienced this and know it.

The death of Ego, a sacred humbling

All of these moments, in their own way, mirror the story of Easter and the story of my patient. Just like him, we are sometimes cracked open by forces beyond our control: accidents, heartbreak, diagnoses, transitions. It is what’s revealed in the stillness after the impact that matters most: love, humility, and an invitation to become someone new.

Rebirth is not a one-time thing

Life is continuously asking us to evolve, to shed parts of ourselves that  no longer serving us, to re-think, and to go forward anew. We see it in nature all the time: trees shedding their leaves, animals retreating into hibernation, seasons shifting from light to dark and back again. Nothing stays fixed. Everything cycles.

As Pema Chödrön, a Buddhist nun known for her teachings on compassion and change, once wrote, "To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest."

Inviting change: Practices for the Pause

I invite you to attempt some of these practices next time you find yourself in the “pause” phase of  your transition cycle.

Pause journal prompt: What part of me is trying to fall away right now?

Ego check: Think of a recent experience that brought you shame or discomfort. Could there be a seed of transformation hiding inside it?

Mini ritual: Write a letter to the version of you that’s fading away, then burn or bury it as a symbolic release.

Reflective walk: Go for a quiet walk on Easter Sunday or any reflective day, notice signs of rebirth or decay around you, maybe new buds on trees or leaves falling, children playing, morning light.

Compassion practice: Think of someone who witnessed you in a vulnerable moment and didn’t turn away. Send them a silent thank-you, or write them a note.

Re-birth journal prompt: If I could resurrect a quality in myself, what would it be? (e.g., joy, playfulness, creativity, openness)

We are more than broken pieces

Through my life’s work, I have come to know, that we are all more than what we’ve survived. Beneath the surface, even when things fall apart, something deeper is always planted and the seed is always growing even if you cannot yet see it. I think of my patient on the orthopaedic ward, lying there in the stillness after a traumatic accident. What began as devastating and overwhelming loss became the space for something so much deeper: a clarity, a rediscovery of what truly and deeply matters. 

Often, it’s only after an event settles that we realise what’s left isn’t just broken pieces, or limitations, but an invitation to begin again being more open, more present, and more connected to the truth of who we really are.

---

This article is authored by Nicole Sultana, who holds a Post Graduate Degree in Spiritual Care, a Post Graduate Certificate in Business (Marketing), and a Bachelor of Applied Science in Sports & Exercise. In addition, she is a Certified Therapeutic Sound Practitioner and a Death Doula. Nicole is the founder of Sound Consciousness, a company that offers wellbeing strategies and therapeutic sound practices to help individuals achieve peak performance in their professional lives, sporting endeavours, relationships, and personal aspirations.

If you found this article meaningful, leave a comment and share it with someone else who may benefit. Sharing our experiences helps us all learn, grow, and heal together. We welcome lively discussions, as they contribute to our multifaceted humanity. Let's remember to approach discussions with respect and kindness at heart.