Who you sit with matters

“Thereupon, the hoops of all the unopened vessels burst, so that people were wading in the ale throughout the house;
and the woman drank three mouthfuls of it from her palm as she left the house.”

- from an early Irish charm.

April shifts things outward. The light lasts longer, the evenings soften, and the pull toward other people gets stronger, whether we answer it or not. After months of holding ourselves tight through winter, the need for company can feel both welcome and strangely awkward at the same time.

In Irish life, gathering was not optional. 

Community wasn’t a bonus feature or something ‘nice to have’. It was (still is!) how people survived. Family, neighbours, and chosen kin are the fabric that hold everything else together. When things go wrong, and they often do, you don’t face it alone if there is any way to help it.

This kind of magic in the folk tradition wasn’t about summoning people or forcing connection. It was about tending the bonds that already existed and making space for them to strengthen again, and would often happen very naturally and informally as part of social or community gatherings, life rites, and festivals. That’s the spirit of this week’s work.

This simple Irish spell is for gathering, not bodies into a room necessarily, but goodwill, warmth, and the sense of being held in relationship.

You’ll need a small bowl or mug and clean water.
Pour the water into the bowl and place it between your hands. Take a moment to think of the people who matter to you, family, friends, neighbours, those you trust, those you miss, and those you are still learning how to be with. Don’t force feelings. Just let the names come.

When you’re ready, say:
Those who stand with me, draw near.
Those I stand with, be strengthened.
May we meet in goodwill,
and may no one stand alone.
Beir Bua. (Pron. bare BOO-ah)

Sit quietly for a few breaths. Then pour the water away outside if you can, or into the sink if that’s what’s available. This is not an offering of obligation, it’s an act of intention, an that’s the work.

If this kind of grounded, relational practice speaks to you, you’ll find more of it, and the thinking behind it, through the paid subscription of this Newsletter. 

Slán go fóill
Lora

PS

If this brings up loneliness rather than comfort, don’t push it away. That feeling is information, not failure. Community work often begins by noticing where the gaps actually are, and figuring out what to do about that.

And always remember, you are part of our Tuath, our IPS community. We stand with you, even from afar.