When gathering becomes a lifeline.
A blueprint for holding each other through the hardest seasons
“Bonnie might cry, and it’s okay if you cry. She’ll want to hold your hand sometimes.”
These words were the sign-off of an email invitation to a very specific kind of gathering. I met Bonnie in December. She approached me after an event I’d spoken at and told me about this “unlikely gathering from a few years ago” that had gotten her through a very dark period of her life. “It kind of saved me,” she told me.
We often assume that we gather only in good times or to celebrate. But it is actually in moments of highest need that gathering becomes a superpower.
As Los Angeles burns and an oligarchy threatens to take over the country, it can feel like a time to take cover. And yet, it is in times of trouble and uncertainty that we most need collective ritual. Rituals are a tool for holding the unholdable. They are our way of calling in our communities to move ourselves through pain or grief or healing in the face of the unknowable.
I’m sharing Bonnie’s gathering with permission to remind us of all the ways we can call people in with care, and what a gift it is to do so.
“Bedtime with Bonnie”
A couple of years ago, Bonnie had developed some terrifying vision issues that had cascading effects on her brain and balance. She suddenly found her day-to-day life reduced to lying in bed in a dark room for weeks on end. She knew she needed other people around her to keep herself going, but her condition made that a challenge.
Here’s how Bonnie describes what they did:
“I verbally mapped out what I wanted and needed from these visits with my husband: I knew my capacity (it was VERY low) and I knew I wanted to only invite lightness into my space (I couldn’t handle hearing about job woes, stresses, political issues, etc.). At this point, I was literally getting through each hour as best as I could, so for me, this was a Gathering of Two.
My husband typed the invitation up and my friend then organized and scheduled everything so I had 1-3 visits each day (in person or by phone). Because I couldn’t see at that point, I never saw the invitation, but I asked my husband to send it to me yesterday, and here it is:
"Bed Time with Bonnie"
Attire: Casual, pajamas welcome, sunglasses encouraged. Bedhead optional.
Visit length: 60-90 minutes.
Agenda: Be ready to talk, shoot the shit, talk about cool stuff you’re up to. Meandering conversations are appreciated. Leave your troubles at the door.
*Bonnie might cry, and it’s okay if you cry. She’ll want to hold your hand sometimes.’
“It captured exactly what I needed and what kept me going. I had amazing guests, and I cherish the time I spent with people who loved me.”
Why is “Bedtime with Bonnie” such an effective ritual?
They name it.
By calling it “Bedtime with Bonnie,” they anoint their gathering. Names elevate a hang. They invite us into a temporary alternative world. Step into this kingdom.
They bind it.
“60-90 minutes.” It’s neither forever nor is it a 10-minute catch-up. It’s also just two people at a time.
They don’t treat everyone’s needs as equal.
They centered the most affected (Bonnie). Guests were gently asked to put Bonnie’s needs in this moment before their own: “Leave your troubles at the door.”
They don’t assume people know how to be.
In modern life, we lack shared protocols. Rituals allow people to take on specific roles, and remove the ambiguity and confusion that can arise when we each want to be cared for in different ways. By being specific and explicit about what those roles entail, Bonnie and her husband guide their guests, let them know what it is they’re being asked to do, and set them up for success.
They conjure a different space with small symbols.
“Pajamas welcome, sunglasses encouraged.” It’s light, it’s fun, and it equalizes the guests to Bonnie. The accessories signal they’re temporarily exiting normal life and entering the world of the sick, dark, and soft.
They invite intimacy.
They normalize grief and invite emotion. “Bonnie might cry, and it’s okay if you cry. She’ll want to hold your hand sometimes.”
They find the right weight.
When we’re going through hell, we don’t need more heaviness. Bonnie and her husband didn’t deny the difficulty she was going through, but they also brought humor. “Bedhead optional!” And also: “Shoot the shit!” Just because this is heavy doesn’t mean you have to be.
***
Traditional communities historically share forms and rites for coming together during times of tragedy, loss, or devastation. In modern life, we often aren’t totally sure what to do or how to support one another across difference. And yet, we are just as capable of (and hungry for) ways to hold some weight and light for one another. As artful gatherers, we can learn to look for opportunities to ask what those most affected – whether ourselves or others – need right now.
As always,
Priya