WHO CANNOT HEX CANNOT HEAL

by Cholla
copyright 2000

Last issue in Community Forum, Storm Faerywolf posed the question “what is Feri?” Ultimately, we can’t really pin it down and that is the point storm makes. Feri is something more elusive, an energy, a wildness. But I can tell you what Feri isn’t. It isn’t uptight. Feri does not have a stick up its butt. It isn’t about rules and books. I want to tell you a little story about how I discovered what Feri is. Or at least what it is not.

Earlier this year, we all watched as the WTO met in Seattle and people from all over the world sat up and took notice that we were being taken over by this weird secret organization. The World Trade Organization is there to encourage free trade at all costs. They have been instrumental in overturning our own environmental protection act. They just decided that the restrictions we made to save our own country were not good for free trade, so we couldn’t make our own laws. The thing that gets me about this is that I didn’t know about it. People like me are commodities, labor, not citizens who have a right to be informed about the workings of such organizations as the WTO.

Evidently, a lot of people felt like I did. A lot of people with more commitment, because a huge number of people showed up in Seattle to protest the meeting of the WTO. We all sat at home watching the protest and cheering them on. We saw footage of unbelievable police violence. Then the stories began to come in, of unlawful acts by the Seattle police and National Guard. Women being taken into the police station and tied naked to chairs and interrogated without arrest records. Police holding people down and spraying pepper spray directly into their eyes; people who were already handcuffed! The blockades, the tear gas, the protesters who were arrested being kept without food or water or bathroom facilities for days. No medical care for those seriously injured. All of this in response to a peaceful protest? Of the approximately 50,000 protesters, only about 12 were destructive, and some of those were not even protesters.

And still they came. The protesters still came and laid themselves out like lambs for the slaughter, knowing that in not fighting back they had more power than in any retaliation. As the nation began to wake up and become appalled at what they were seeing, the tide began to turn. Even President Clinton told the WTO that they would have to deal with the protesters. Never again will the WTO work in secret.

All the while, people were asking each other to send positive energy to the protesters. And I did. But one day, as I was watching them spray pepper spray into another handcuffed child’s eyes, I heard a rumble from far away, and yet deep inside.

In the past, this has been a signal that “big magic” was happening.. It’s different from all those little spells I do because I want something . Every now and then, the gods to whom I am devoted come a callin’ and usually it feels like a freight train rolling through. They inspire me to action. The shaking begins if I fight it, too many amps for someone in a body. And all I could hear as I watched this crime was a cold and chilling and quiet “ya basta...enough.” in a voice that was not mine.

I went to my keyboard and words flowed out of me, energy streaming from me. I was in an altered state, flying, not even reading what I was writing. What came out was something that terrified me. It was a curse, the text of which is included. It has not been edited.

Now let me tell you something, I do not curse lightly. Basically, I grew up in a tradition that saw cursing as an art form, and something that you did because you were pissed off at your neighbor. But my godfather taught me that the less you curse the more powerful they are. He told me not to be a bitchy little old grandma, and to use a curse only when you are willing to take someone out for good. I have only used curses on one or two occasions. And I have taken someone out for good. I know that cursing works if you actually can do it. You can really mess yourself up in the process if you are not careful. It requires cursing yourself in the process, and being willing to face your own destruction in an attempt to restore order. It takes commitment.

I posted this curse to a list of people I know who are Feri witches. The curse caused nary a burp within this group. People instead began to feel healing for the terror they had felt at seeing our brothers and sisters being treated in this horrible way. This was remarkable to me, how much healing actually occurred because of a curse.

Then my girlfriend and another close friend wanted to post the curse to some other pagany witchy kinds of lists. I saw how well it had been received with the Feri folks, so I thought, well, ok. Maybe it would help some other people get some sleep, and the more folks who worked against the enemies of my brothers and sisters, the better, right?

WRONG

The response was fast and furious. I was evil for even writing a curse. People were screaming and thumping their books like Pentecostal preachers. Just because their traditions thought cursing was wrong didn’t mean that I was bound by their rules. I’m a Feri witch. The quotes I remember are from two of the tradition’s elders. “White magic is poetry and black magic is anything that works” - Victor Anderson. “He who cannot blast cannot bless” -Gwydion Pendderwen. I thought I had seen all the hatefulness I could when I was a Christian. But it was nothing compared to the hatefulness I was seeing now from other witches. Power is scary. And scared people are very very dangerous.

And don’t for a minute believe that these folks don’t curse. The problem with prohibiting cursing is that we think we’re not doing it if we don’t make a ritual out of it. But how many times when someone cuts you off on the freeway do you hurl a curse at them? “Yeah, well I hope you get in an accident.” Of course, we’re not on record with those kinds of curses. And we never have to see the results of our flinging our energy around like so many boogers on a finger. We spew negative energy around if we don’t know what it’s for. I was trained in cursing. I was taught how to curse and why to curse. For instance, I was told that I couldn’t be in a state of rage or anger when I curse, because the curse will implode. You need to know how to get out of the way of a curse. You also need to know that when you hurl a curse at a driver on the bridge, you have to make damn sure you aren’t doing the same thing. If you are, you’re screwed. If you know how to curse, you become more aware of your responsibility. You know that if you are whining about something, you need to either do something about it or shut up already. Knowing how to curse can considerably reduce the amount of cursing that you do. Cursing is a part of most diasporic traditions and is a tool of the oppressed. It is the tool we have to defend ourselves when we lack money and power.

The kinds of threats I heard leveled at me from these witches and pagans were really awful. There was a group of witches who were gathering together to protect the Seattle police and the WTO. Go figure. There was a group who was working against me to “take me out of commission”. Then there were those witches who were so upset that I had broken their rules about cursing that they decided to curse me! (Hmm, what’s wrong with this picture?) Some even suggested that I be burned at the stake. Please keep in mind that all of these responses came from WITCHES.

From the Feri witches, I learned something else. Some rose to my defense, even those who didn’t normally get along. My friend who had spread the curse really put himself on the line for me. And in a review written about the “Cholla curse” (as it came to be called), the author made a very good point. It hit me like a ton of bricks as I read the review, because suddenly I understood the freight train feeling I had had before. It was the first time I had felt that since my initiation and it was unbelievable.

When a Feri witch is made, they take an oath, and that oath is a doozy. I remember that I took a little while before I could swear it myself, because of what it entails. I obviously cannot repeat it, but the point he made was this-I was protecting brothers and sisters in the craft. I was oathbound to do this. Those friends and strangers who had risen up and defended my rights were my brothers and sisters in the craft. They had sworn to do just that, even at risk to themselves. We may fight and bitch at each other in Feri, but don’t fuck with our craft siblings, kay?

And suddenly I began to cry, because I realized that I was in service to the gods to which I had been sworn. That I loved them for letting me be their pen and keyboard. And that I was part of something real, which could rise like a forest fire in my soul and could change the world, or crush me from inside. I was a Feri witch, sworn not just to “harm none” but to actually go out and do something in the world. To protect my brothers and sisters in the craft, among other things.

This made me think about what it meant to have craftsiblings. I realized that being a brother or sister in the craft was serious business, because you don’t get the choice to just sit by and watch them suffer. That oath once sworn will remain in your heart. And should you fail it, you will hear the rumble coming from far away inside.

For all my judgments and prejudices toward folks I know in the Feri community, coven or class, new or old, of questioned or unquestioned lineage, I realized that they all had something in common. Not one of them would hesitate to use magic in defense of a craft sibling. They were completely fierce, and not bound by fear. We live our lives according to our own black hearts and the oaths we’ve sworn. It made me proud to be a Feri initiate. It is integrity, impeccability, and the courage to maintain it, even when other witches would like to set you roasting over briquettes.

And one day, when you hear that distant rumble, be ready. Because the gods will come calling, and you will do what you have been sworn to do. That, storm, is your answer. That is Feri.

A Curse of Blood upon the WTO and the Seattle Police and National Guard

Hear me hungry mother, who sleeps in the earth
Inhuman redeemer of blood ill-spilt, awaken and hear my cry
your daughter who has not murdered without cause, yet has murdered
I summon stir and call you up.
And with you, he of winter cold, who eats the bones of the dead
Hear my words, father, and come to our aid
I summon stir and call you up to aid our siblings who have called you
Who have blown the horn of Herne.

They know all is lost and have laid their own lives and safety aside
to speak for those who can no longer speak on their own behalf
And in their name, I lay this curse upon the Police Department of Seattle,
The National Guard, and the delegates of the World Trade Organization

May you be unable to shield your eyes from what you do, attacking others as the hired assassins you are.
May you bleed drop for drop the blood you have spilt without honoring the hungry mother.
May you face the glamour of my will, seeing your own mother, father, brother, sister, daughter, son, and spouse in every face you beat with your club or spray with your pepper spray.
You may defend yourself, but each unprovoked act will bring this curse upon you.
I send upon you the restless voices of the Chapayukis, who fly from their lairs on wings of owls
To torment you and steal your dreams, until you fall down with madness.
I send upon you the restless voices of the Chapayukis, who fly from their lairs on wings of owls
To kill and maim, one for one, your own families in equal measure to the destruction of your own hands.
For each man and woman must live with their own actions and cannot give their fate to another.
May your hate consume you.
May you be eaten from the inside out.
May you know the purpose of this curse and know the justice of it.
And may that knowledge turn you from your ways.
I accept the terms of the hungry mother, should I one day be as destructive as you to kill and maim for profit.

I call upon the minds of people, those you oppress and destroy.
I call upon the body of the earth which you eat and despise to rise up against you.
And the spirits of the earth to speak to you in visions and prophesy.
For every child who falls in the sweatshops, I ask that a child of yours die.
For every disease and pestilence that has resulted from your actions to destroy the earth,
I ask that pox be laid upon you.
One that will not kill, but will make you suffer long and hard.
I ask that your very body, made of the body of the hungry mother, turn against you.
May you feel her pain, her poison rivers become the poison in your own blood.
I ask that when you set fire to the poor collecting spilled gasoline that so many of your own corporate officials be consumed by the same spirit of flame.
In this act I bind your fate to the protesters, to the citizens of your countries
In this act I bind your fate to the earth upon which you walk and can never never escape.
You may defend yourself, but each unprovoked act will bring this curse upon you.
I send upon you the restless voices of the Chapayukis, who fly from their lairs on wings of owls
To torment you and steal your dreams, until you fall down with madness.
I send upon you the restless voices of the Chapayukis, who fly from their lairs on wings of owls
To kill and maim, one for one, your own families in equal measure to the destruction of your own hands.
For each man and woman must live with their own actions and cannot give their fate to another.

May your hate consume you.
May you be eaten from the inside out.
May you know the purpose of this curse and know the justice of it.
And may that knowledge turn you from your ways.
I accept the terms of the hungry mother, should I one day be as destructive as you to kill and maim for profit.

And should the voice of mercy touch your soul, and gentle Yomommuli buzz in your ear
Should you turn and be unable to beat and spray the innocent, rape and pillage, destroy and plunder
Should you grow a soul from your witnessing of the suffering of your works
Should you hold the arm of another, preventing your fellow from killing and beating without provocation
May this curse be averted, and blessing be upon your mind and lips.
May the flowers of blessing rain down on you.
And for every one of you who opens the gates and releases the protesters to freedom,
may you live long and happy lives, filled with abundance of love and wealth
And may you die a happy death in the arms of those you love.
I accept the terms of the hungry mother, should I one day be as brave and honorable as you I shall also know the honey of the sacred bee.

Sacred Butterfly, whisper this prophesy to them, let them know the dread consequences of their actions, that they may turn their hearts.
And guard the blessed children, who have suffered at the hands of these
Keep them safe and bring their quick release to freedom, that they may return home to those they love.
Wrap your wings around them, and give them safe harbor.
So must it be, so must it be, so must it be.

Cholla

[home] [search] [articles] [contact/info] [links]