In Lao villages, merit-making often unfolds as a two-act drama where Theravāda generosity meets the world of spirits. On a misty morning, families might line up at the temple, offering sticky rice, fresh fruit and incense to monks chanting Pali suttas. Right next door, a mo phi (spirit medium) arranges banana-leaf trays brimming with grilled chicken, coconuts and rice wine for the phi (local spirits).

First, generosity (dāna) to the Sangha lights up one’s karmic ledger. Monks receive alms in silent procession, cloth robes brushing dew-wet grass. Chanting follows—blessings that ripple through the community, sealing good fortune.

Then comes the animistic half of the ceremony: the baci, or soukhoun. A ring of bamboo poles festooned with white cotton threads stands at a family’s courtyard. Guests tie these threads around wrists, symbolically anchoring the khwān (souls) to the body. Offerings—steaming sticky rice, boiled eggs, banana clusters—are laid at the base. The mo phi voices invocations to guardian spirits of land, home and ancestors, weaving in Buddhist mantras that dissolve any hard line between faiths.

A housewarming, a new birth or the Laotian New Year (Pi Mai)—every milestone calls for this hybrid rite. While monks bless the gathering, the mo phi negotiates with unseen beings, ensuring both Sangha and spirits endorse the family’s path. Transference of merit (pattidāna) becomes a shared gift—to ancestors, to ghosts of the paddy fields, even to wildlife guardians.

Modern twists have sprouted, too. In Vientiane’s restored That Luang precinct, government-sponsored baci festivals now spotlight UNESCO’s 2021 Intangible Cultural Heritage listing, inviting urban youth to reconnect with ancestral customs. Even Laotian communities in Minnesota or Sydney reproduce these dual offerings, live-streaming chants and spirit-calling prayers for distant kin.

What emerges is a seamless choreography: generosity to monks, respect to spirits, and a heartfelt wish that the seen and unseen worlds dance together in harmony.