Near-death experiences (NDEs) often come uninvited and unanticipated, but their impact is enduring, radical, and life-altering. When someone has faced clinical death or come close to it, and encountered realities that transcend physical life—visions of light, reunions with beings of love, panoramic life reviews, or timeless states of unity—the return to ordinary human life can feel jarring, even unbearable.

NDErs frequently speak of their experience as “more real than real.” Upon return, the world they once knew can seem hollow, rushed, aggressive, or misaligned. Many try, and fail, to re-assimilate into society as they once knew it. Why? Because something deep within them has changed. Because they are no longer the person who left.

To thrive again—not merely survive—NDErs require a radically different way of being. They need space, silence, kindness, and authenticity. They need environments that honour sensitivity and stillness, and relationships that resonate with soul-level truth. This article explores the multidimensional needs of NDErs upon return, including changes in energy, lifestyle, values, and community, and offers insight into how loved ones, caregivers, and clinicians can support their post-NDE reality.

Working with clients who have had—or who may have had—a near-death experience (NDE) presents profound opportunities for healing, connection, and spiritual growth. It also stirs deep concerns in many clinicians, particularly when the experience is unspoken, alluded to, or hidden just beneath the surface.

One of the most pressing and unspoken fears clinicians hold is this: If I ask about the NDE, will I push them closer to suicide?

It’s a delicate tension. On one hand, NDEs are known to be transformative and spiritually expansive. On the other, they can provoke intense longing, existential grief, and even a desire to return to “the other side.” This inner split can be misunderstood or missed entirely—unless someone dares to ask.

In this introductory article, we explore the psychology behind this clinical hesitation, unpack the nuanced relationship between NDEs and suicidal ideation, and offer trauma-informed, spiritually sensitive strategies for safely navigating these complex therapeutic conversations. We invite you to use this article as a launch pad to then further explore the complex interplay of NDEs and suicide. 

In clinical practice, few encounters are as delicate, layered, and potentially transformative as working with someone who has had a near-death experience (NDE). These individuals often return with profound psychological, emotional, and spiritual shifts—and they carry stories that defy medical logic, challenge worldview assumptions, and stir the deepest questions of meaning.

For doctors, nurses, psychologists, counsellors, social workers, and other allied health professionals, supporting near-death experiencers (NDErs) is an honour and a responsibility. But it is also a territory that brings risk—of vicarious trauma, ethical missteps, spiritual countertransference, burnout, or inadvertently re-traumatising the client.

In this article, we explore the primary risk factors for clinicians who work with NDErs, and offer practical strategies for recognising, reducing, and responding to them—so that you can walk this path with integrity, grounding, and care.

Near-death experiences (NDEs) are among the most profound, transformative, and disorienting events a person can live through. They are moments that pierce the veil between life and death—often resulting in psychological shifts, spiritual awakenings, and lasting changes in worldview. And yet, in clinical settings, these experiences are frequently met not with curiosity or reverence, but with discomfort, dismissal, or outright silencing.

When doctors, nurses, psychologists, or allied health professionals shut down a patient or client attempting to speak about an NDE, the damage is not just relational—it can be psychological, emotional, and even existential.

In this article, we’ll explore the serious dangers of shutting down near-death experiencers (NDErs), why it happens, what it communicates to the experiencer, and how we can foster safer, more open conversations in clinical spaces.

Therapeutic relationships are never neutral. They are human, relational, and inherently complex. For doctors and clinicians working with clients who have experienced a near-death experience (NDE), this complexity deepens—not only emotionally and cognitively, but spiritually.

Near-death experiencers (NDErs) often present with stories and energy that challenge the rational mind, stir existential questions, and evoke awe, fear, or longing in the listener. These encounters may reach beyond the personal into the sacred. And for the clinician, this can stir something powerful, unacknowledged, and under-discussed: spiritual countertransference.

In this article, we’ll explore what spiritual countertransference is, how and why it arises in work with NDErs, the subtle ways it can show up in sessions, and how to recognise and work with it—so that it becomes not a risk, but a doorway to deeper therapeutic presence.

What happens when we die?

It’s a question that cuts across cultures, creeds, and centuries. While science has traditionally deferred to materialist frameworks—seeing consciousness as a by product of brain activity—some recent research challenges this view. Among the most provocative contributions is Dr. Pim van Lommel’s 2021 paper, The Continuity of Consciousness, which examines the phenomenon of near-death experiences (NDEs) through a clinical and scientific lens. Drawing on decades of cardiac arrest research, he argues that consciousness may exist independently of the physical brain.

This article explores common elements of NDEs, their implications for our understanding of the mind, and how this growing body of evidence forces us to rethink long-held assumptions about death, life, and consciousness itself.

When someone you love or work with has had a near-death experience (NDE), it can feel as though they’ve gone somewhere beyond—and returned with a soul you both recognise and don’t. They may carry the memory of light, peace, beings, or vast cosmic knowledge. Or they may have returned through the darkness of a void, a tunnel, or a place they struggle to describe. However their journey unfolded, their return is rarely simple.

What many people don’t realise is that the most challenging part of an NDE isn’t necessarily what happened on “the other side”—it’s the part that comes afterward.

This is known as the re-entry. And it’s where you, as a supporter, companion, or professional, play an essential role.

In this article, we’ll explore how to support someone who has had an NDE with compassion, clarity, and care—so they can integrate their experience into life with dignity, safety, and meaning.

In an age where increasing numbers of people are engaging with practices such as meditation, energy healing, plant medicine, breathwork, and deep spiritual inquiry, the potential for profound transformation is greater than ever. But transformation is not always gentle. Sometimes, what begins as a spiritual opening can spiral into confusion, distress, or even crisis. This threshold between awakening and overwhelm is known as a spiritual emergency. This article presents information as to how to identify and respond to a spiritual emergency.

Imagine this: You’ve just treated a patient who suffered a cardiac arrest. They're now awake, stable, and alert—but then they look at you and say quietly, “I went somewhere. I saw a light. I left my body.”

What do you say?

For many medical professionals, this moment can be disorienting. Your training may have prepared you to handle physical trauma, surgical interventions, or high-pressure decision-making—but what about spiritual disclosures that defy scientific explanation?

Near-death experiences (NDEs) are reported by people across cultures, ages, and belief systems. Despite their prevalence, they are often misunderstood, dismissed, or ignored in clinical settings. And yet, for patients, they can be among the most significant and transformative events of their lives.

This article offers a guide to help doctors, nurses, paramedics, and other medical practitioners navigate these disclosures with sensitivity, professionalism, and presence. It’s not about believing or disbelieving. It’s about responding with humanity.