Saturday morning and we woke early to find the garden and meadows white with low
mist and hoar frost. The skies were clear; it would be a cold day. We dressed in layer upon layer,
packed pockets with snacks and gloves, and drove through the icy lanes to get the train.
Three hours later, we were standing shivering in Parliament Square, as friends,
Druids, Pagans, making their way through the crowds, gathered together. We made ritual in a circle
just beneath Winston Churchill's statue, calling the spirits of the land, calling for the wisdom of
our ancestors, breathing in the power of this the heart of government, breathing out awen, the
ancient stories. We made our Peace Rite, pouring the blessed water into the city drains, and we
raised the energy of affirmation for the day ... the affirmation that we would celebrate: there is
peace.
And when we joined the march that day, 750,000 people marching with us (according
to police estimates, with 2 million at the rally in Hyde Park), the overwhelming sense was indeed of
peace. Thousands upon thousands of people flowed through the streets of London that day, yet they
flowed like a river, like a clear strong current, with defined purpose, shared purpose, easily,
effortlessly, confidently, and utterly together.
Even when my shaky legs forced me to move out of the flow, seeking a moment's
stillness, and our gathering swirled like an eddy, gently, calmly, off the main road onto the
pavement, sharing cake and chocolate, tea and quiet chatter, even then as we watched the march
moving past us there was an enormous sense of peace, of calm, of fluid purpose.
In these difficult times, when it is hard to hold the affirmation that peace is
with us, when politicians like young boys waving sticks yell their cries of war, the experience of
the demonstration was poignant. It was not just about the coming together of so many against war; it
was the power of truly peaceful and united humanity that we shared.
I honour all those who made the effort to attend the march, and acknowledge all
those who made prayers, gathering with us in spirit. We do make a difference.
I thank Red for her exceptional magical cake, and Kes for the bubbles that danced
and played above the crowd, and all those who walked hand in hand, sharing laughter and tears with
me. Bless you.
Emma RO
15 March 2003
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... and a word from Starhawk ...
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The weekend of February 15 and 16 marks an historic, global uprising
for peace. The number of marches is uncounted: the number of marchers estimated in the range of
ten million. There were marches and vigils and protests in national capitals and small towns, in
the heartlands of middle America and in small Pacific islands, in the freezing cold of Alberta
and in the heat of an Australian summer. Palestinians and Israelis marched together in Tel Aviv:
in the U.S. everyone from Republicans to socialists to anarcho-punks shared the streets. And
most of these hundreds of events took place with, apparently, fairly minimal governmental
repression.
Starhawk
15 February 2003
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... and another view from someone in London ...
I had been feeling so angry and so helpless about the prospect of conflict between
us and Iraq. I had been doing my own rituals and had been praying for peace but had reached the
point when I wanted to do something more. Make a bigger statement!
I had never been on a protest rally before. I don't like big crowds of people and
so issues that I had felt really strongly about - well, I'd always managed to find an excuse.
But this time I felt I really had to go. This time I really felt that for some
reason I really needed to be there and not just see it on the telly.
I picked up the atmosphere as soon as we entered the outskirts of London. Powerful
energy was sizzling through the streets.
I spent most of the day totally overwhelmed by the numbers of people. But some
moments will stay with me forever ...
A baby asleep carried on his mum's back with a banner sticking out of his papoose
saying 'Not in my name.'
Chalking the names of all the people I love on the roads and walls on the way.
Carrying the banner at the front of our group - proud to be identified as a Pagan
fighting for peace, protecting the world I hold as sacred.
It was a tiring day and I was glad to finally get home. As I put my feet up with a
cup of tea I thought I'm lucky to have a home to get back to. Mine isn't likely to be bombed in the
near future. After Saturday let's hope the people of Iraq can say the same.
Marianne
15 February 2003
... and a poem inspired by the awen of the day ...
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Marching Song
Thousands marching, marching, marching,
This is the power of the land!
Thousands drumming, drumming, drumming,
This is the hope of the land!
Who shall tell us we are wrong?
Who shall deny our power?
We are the small people, we are the free people,
No one shall hold us in thrall!
Thousands chanting, chanting, chanting,
This is the need of the land!
Who is fearful on this day?
Those in their ivory towers.
Who shall now still say us nay?
Those who are lovers of power.
Thousands calling, calling, calling,
This is the voice of the land!
We shall have peace!
We shall have light!
We shall have love!
This is the power of the land!
Kestrel
15 February 2003
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