----- forwarded message ----- Date: Tue, 20 Nov 2001 08:10:43 -0800 From: Otter/Work <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> Subject: Witch's brand of G-20 magic can't hurt
Witch's brand of G-20 magic can't hurt Don Martin Calgary Herald Saturday, November 17, 2001 Police may be well prepared for chanting, marching, rock-throwing and newspaper box rattling as today's protests reach an Ottawa conference centre hosting the G-20 finance ministers meeting. But an American witch named Starhawk is leading an attack against the security clampdown with something mere riot shields cannot repel -- magic. Any average protester can climb over a barricade, shove a cop or yell obscenities at the arriving dignitaries. But can they breathe through tear gas? Be re-energized by having the "gunk" in their auras chopped up, fluffed up and combed away? Or, better still, cast a love spell on riot police to replace the use of billyclubs with more, um, friendly weapons? Such are the tools of "magical activism" being taught by Starhawk, a 50-year-old witch and writer from San Francisco also known as Miriam Simos, who arrived in the capital this week to train fellow witches and their ilk in the secrets to civil disobedience using cosmic energy and assorted other methods mere skeptics wouldn't understand, specifically the student in her Thursday night class who is writing this column. Alas, Harry Potter fanatics, no Firebolt 2000 broomsticks, Dark Arts or wands are used in Starhawk's training. The witches -- and they can be male -- don't wear black, cook up newt-eye stew in steaming cauldrons or cackle much, except when I struggled to find the aura without groping the university theology instructor unfortunate enough to be my "buddy" for the exercise. Participation in magical activism requires nothing except one's belief to be suspended in the supernatural during a demonstration while a lot of positive energy is channelled across the barricades to calm down police emotions. Starhawk's Ottawa training session this week attracted about 40 people, including a couple of witches, a talkative heretic, a mother with her six-year-old daughter and a guy who popped by on his way to the laundromat who, dare I say, could use a little washing himself. It was a passive and, frankly, boring session of breathing exercises, meditation, aura manipulation and a chanting stroll around a table of candles wrapped in a rainbow scarf while Starhawk banged on a bongo. "Magic is the art of changing consciousness at will," she says. "You want to control your own energy state and not get carried away by rage and frustration." Spells are merely projections of positive energy at inanimate objects to alter this consciousness. For example, Starhawk suggests, a love spell on a mango could transport your mind to a tropical beach. Or a spell could be put on the weekend New York Times reserved for reading in bed which, presumably, could lead to other loving things, although Afghanistan war coverage is not exactly my idea of yee-haw aphrodisiac material. But this is not to suggest Starhawk is a certifiable wingnut. She is bewitchingly calm, articulate and reasoned in outlining her opposition to government alignments with corporate interests as an elitist, racist exercise that creates poverty in developing countries, environmental destruction and a generally eroded civil society. In other words, it's black magic. She's written two novels and six activist guides that have sold well enough to finance her travels to whatever summit catches her fancy -- and yes, Calgary, you too can expect a visit for the G-8 summit next June -- while earning a diverse readership that includes an official in the Prime Minister's Office, who threatened to put a powerful curse on my journalistic performance if publicly identified. Starhawk's training, at least the 90 minutes I attended, was about as violent and threatening as the church choir rehearsal being conducted down the hallway of the Anglican church where the session was held. Yet such was the security threat posed by Starhawk and her companion Lisa Fithian that the pair were apprehended at the Ottawa airport Monday, thoroughly searched and questioned for five hours. Customs officers were suspicious of the bay leaves she carries around for protection. They were curious about the sacred water she hauls around for good luck. A notebook on cultural design, which instructed students to "get lots of rocks," raised security eyebrows. They seized her computer for closer examination and only allowed her in with a special visitors' designation while her friend was detained. Starhawk's desired outcome from all this trouble is a "beautiful and peaceful march" followed by "powerful and moving direct action," such as an attempt to enter the conference room or disrupt the traffic of departing dignitaries. If that's all that develops today in downtown Ottawa and nobody gets hurt in the protest, well, perhaps a little magic was involved after all.
