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The Nature Of Magic

According to a car sticker I saw today, "Magic Happens".

But then the other sticker on the car said "The Goddess Is Dancing" so I'm not sure whether to believe them.
 
AlchoPwn said:
Well, seeing as how Tiamat, (a Mesopotamian demon goddess) was imprisoned under the Ramalia oilfield in Iraq by Marduk, I should think she would be up and about once it is drained.
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With nice manageable hair as well.
 
I went to double check the famous Arthur C Clarke law, "Any sufficiently..." and I stumbled across this from Charles Fort himself:

"...a performance that may some day be considered understandable, but that, in these primitive times, so transcends what is said to be the known that it is what I mean by magic..."

So a simple definition of magic would probably be, "any deliberate process that produces a desired outcome without using known science."

I would move beyond Clarke's "sufficiently advanced technology" to include all branches of science including psychology: we all know of reports of (so called) primitive people falling ill after being told that they have been cursed. As we learn and understand more about the universe, the space left for magic will continue to diminish.

However, that seems to miss the point.

I am a Morris dancer (a form of traditional English ritual dance) and within the Morris, there is a cliché, "The magic of the Morris." This is mainly for the alliteration, and I know of very few, if any, people who profess to believe that the Morris has any special power to cause something, other than perhaps thirst and bad knees. (OK, and irritation for the public!)

But there was one occasion when I saw something that I instinctively thought of as the "magic of the Morris." I had driven for 2 or 3 hours in dreary weather to Bampton in Oxfordshire, where there are three traditional Morris teams and, once a year, they set aside a day for dancing around the town.

I drove round the last corner intending to pull up near to the Morris Clown pub, and the Morris men were dancing outside. At that moment, we were between showers, the sun was shining directly on the dancers, all six of them were in brilliant white costume, the flowers on their hats were bright and fresh, and all of the dancers were off the ground and in perfectly straight lines. Just for that moment, the Morris looked exactly how it should, rather than how it really is.

By the time I'd parked and got out of the car, the moment had passed. The dancers were out of breath, one or two had their shirts hanging out, and little imperfections like beer stained trousers and dusty shoes became apparent. The lines were less straight than they should be, and one or two of the men were struggling to get as far off the ground as the rest of the team.

So, there's my working definition of one sort of "magic": the moment when you see actually things as they should be rather than how they really are.

This has happened to me on two other occasions that i can think of.

The first time was on the Norfolk Broads, as a child, when I saw two swans coming in to land on the water in bright sunlight, and everything suddenly appeared in slow motion. The swans were exquisitely white, their wings under perfect control, and the moment was almost hypnotising. Then they landed and they were just two more swans on a dirty river.

The other time was when I was walking in Glencoe and one of the group said, "Don't you get eagles in this area?" and I looked up and said, "Yes, there's one." It had just sailed out over the edge of the cliff above us, it was in full view for only a few seconds against a blue sky, then it went back out of sight and that was it for the rest of the day.

One thing I particularly detest in novels and films is magic as a substitute for modern technology: the blast of flame from the magician's staff which is basically just a bazooka; the image in the bowl of water or the crystal ball which is CCTV by another name.

I prefer magic to have an element of subtlety to it: the thing that could have happened at any time but happened at the right time. The magician making the smallest possible change, tweaking the probabilities, letting events play out according to his or her preferred course.

I also like the idea of the magician who seldom uses his or her power overtly, but has an understanding of everything's place in the narrative, and guides and nurtures the right outcome, whether it is Merlin taking Arthur from his father and leaving him with Sir Ector, until later, through a series of coincidences, Arthur is in the right place at the right time to draw the sword from the stone and be hailed as king.
 
Mikefule said:
I went to double check the famous Arthur C Clarke law, "Any sufficiently..." and I stumbled across this from Charles Fort himself:

"...a performance that may some day be considered understandable, but that, in these primitive times, so transcends what is said to be the known that it is what I mean by magic..."

So a simple definition of magic would probably be, "any deliberate process that produces a desired outcome without using known science."

I would move beyond Clarke's "sufficiently advanced technology" to include all branches of science including psychology: we all know of reports of (so called) primitive people falling ill after being told that they have been cursed. As we learn and understand more about the universe, the space left for magic will continue to diminish.

However, that seems to miss the point.

I am a Morris dancer (a form of traditional English ritual dance) and within the Morris, there is a cliché, "The magic of the Morris." This is mainly for the alliteration, and I know of very few, if any, people who profess to believe that the Morris has any special power to cause something, other than perhaps thirst and bad knees. (OK, and irritation for the public!)

But there was one occasion when I saw something that I instinctively thought of as the "magic of the Morris." I had driven for 2 or 3 hours in dreary weather to Bampton in Oxfordshire, where there are three traditional Morris teams and, once a year, they set aside a day for dancing around the town.

I drove round the last corner intending to pull up near to the Morris Clown pub, and the Morris men were dancing outside. At that moment, we were between showers, the sun was shining directly on the dancers, all six of them were in brilliant white costume, the flowers on their hats were bright and fresh, and all of the dancers were off the ground and in perfectly straight lines. Just for that moment, the Morris looked exactly how it should, rather than how it really is.

By the time I'd parked and got out of the car, the moment had passed. The dancers were out of breath, one or two had their shirts hanging out, and little imperfections like beer stained trousers and dusty shoes became apparent. The lines were less straight than they should be, and one or two of the men were struggling to get as far off the ground as the rest of the team.

So, there's my working definition of one sort of "magic": the moment when you see actually things as they should be rather than how they really are.

This has happened to me on two other occasions that i can think of.

The first time was on the Norfolk Broads, as a child, when I saw two swans coming in to land on the water in bright sunlight, and everything suddenly appeared in slow motion. The swans were exquisitely white, their wings under perfect control, and the moment was almost hypnotising. Then they landed and they were just two more swans on a dirty river.

The other time was when I was walking in Glencoe and one of the group said, "Don't you get eagles in this area?" and I looked up and said, "Yes, there's one." It had just sailed out over the edge of the cliff above us, it was in full view for only a few seconds against a blue sky, then it went back out of sight and that was it for the rest of the day.

One thing I particularly detest in novels and films is magic as a substitute for modern technology: the blast of flame from the magician's staff which is basically just a bazooka; the image in the bowl of water or the crystal ball which is CCTV by another name.

I prefer magic to have an element of subtlety to it: the thing that could have happened at any time but happened at the right time. The magician making the smallest possible change, tweaking the probabilities, letting events play out according to his or her preferred course.

I also like the idea of the magician who seldom uses his or her power overtly, but has an understanding of everything's place in the narrative, and guides and nurtures the right outcome, whether it is Merlin taking Arthur from his father and leaving him with Sir Ector, until later, through a series of coincidences, Arthur is in the right place at the right time to draw the sword from the stone and be hailed as king.
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Your definitions here seem to me simply brilliant. The way you see the magician as somebody with the undestanding of the situation and a nurturer of coicidences is perfect.

And I enjoyed specially the rant against the magical bazookas. :)
 
Well done on admitting your Morris Dancing fetish it is the first step toward a cure.

I have often wondered why people do this, I might add I was brought up in a small village in the fens so I have seen Morris Dancing for real.

It occurred to me that some of our non-British readers may not know what Morris Dancing is so here is a short video so they can too share my bewilderment about the whole thing.

 
XBergMann said:
Well done on admitting your Morris Dancing fetish it is the first step toward a cure.

I have often wondered why people do this, I might add I was brought up in a small village in the fens so I have seen Morris Dancing for real.

It occurred to me that some of our non-British readers may not know what Morris Dancing is so here is a short video so they can too share my bewilderment about the whole thing.

Click to expand...
Ironically, when a criminal justice bill/act was passed in the early to mid 90's, it outlawed any gathering of 4 or more people dancing to "repetitive beats" .. this, as it was pointed out by illegal rave enthusiasts that the bill was targeted at at the time, would also include Morris Dancers.
 
Swifty said:
Ironically, when a criminal justice bill/act was passed in the early to mid 90's, it outlawed any gathering of 4 or more people dancing to "repetitive beats" .. this, as it was pointed out by illegal rave enthusiasts that the bill was targeted at at the time, would also include Morris Dancers.
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Justice is not blind, it's crosseyed.
 
danny_cogdon said:
Simple answer? Psychosomia.

Magic only works on those who believe it works.

I believe it works on those who believe it works on them but it will never work on me because I don't believe it will work on me.

You did ask! ;)
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Quite a few of the old Pan and other horror story collections include yarns featuring characters with that very same mindset. It's a story as old as every culture.

Anyone who's lived in the Tropics or various First World regions will quietly tell you of fellow Westerners who've scoffed at the local magician/witch doctor only to later eat their words.

(I've been trying to post this for over an hour on and off on a phone and computer in between doing other things. It's almost as if I'm, know, illegally imparting secret knowledge!)
 
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XBergMann said:
Well done on admitting your Morris Dancing fetish it is the first step toward a cure.

I have often wondered why people do this, I might add I was brought up in a small village in the fens so I have seen Morris Dancing for real.

It occurred to me that some of our non-British readers may not know what Morris Dancing is so here is a short video so they can too share my bewilderment about the whole thing.
Click to expand...

OK, just this once, I'll bite. :) I've even put a smiley to show it's all in good sport.

Morris dancing is an English (and Welsh borders) tradition, as much a part of our culture as the Haka is for the Maoris, or any other traditional dance form is for its culture of origin.

Part of the English tradition is that we quietly get on with it instead of putting on big competitions like the Irish or Scots, and another part of it is that we have perhaps a unique balance between taking it seriously and doing it tongue in cheek. We know it sometimes looks ridiculous — sometimes it's even meant to — but we also take it seriously because it's worth it.

My own "side" (team, club) has a repertoire of around 50 dances in about 10 distinct styles, for sets of 6 or 8 dancers, and a further repertoire of around a dozen solo dances (or, sometimes, pairs) called "jigs". The one style that I specialise in teaching has 8 distinct steps to learn.

The one word, "Morris", encompasses several distinct groups of dances, including the "Cotswold style" shown in your video, which is teams of 6 or 8 dancers working together as a team. Even Cotswold includes styles so different that at first glance they are barely recognisable as "the same sort of thing" as each other.

North West Morris is a loud and impressive style that gets much of its effect from the forceful and precise stamping of wooden-soled traditional clogs in time with the beat.

In East Anglia, there was Molly dancing, about which we know only a little, and it has therefore been "imaginatively reconstructed" by enthusiasts.

There are the Shropshire/Welsh border dances where the dancers traditionally blackened their faces with soot to disguise their identities as they used their dancing as a pretext for "begging in a menacing manner".

Further north, there are sword dances and the superficially similar "rapper" dances in which very precisely drilled teams form a circle, each person holding the handle of one sword and the tip of another, then they weave complex patterns and, in rapper, turn somersaults.

Then there are the individual step dances, performed in clogs, but otherwise similar to Irish or tap dancing.

There are plenty more styles, but the point is, there is not one Thing that is called Morris dancing.

The music is incredibly varied, often using time signatures that musicians like Dave Brubeck thought were "breaking new ground" when he used them in his albums Time Out, and Time Further Out. 2/4, 4/4, and 6/8 are common and 3/4 and 9/8 are also used.

The music is played on pipe and tabor (a sort of flute or whistle accompanied by a drum) played by one person — a tradition known to be over 1,000 years old and still widespread in Europe; or on fiddle, melodeon, concertina and accordion, and sometimes on other instruments.

The tunes vary from simple, repetitive and robust to some of the most beautiful and complex melodies that were borrowed by composers such as Holst, and Vaughan Williams.

The Morris is a living tradition, with new tunes and new dances being composed from time to time, and with changes in the music, the instrumentation, the style of costume, and the details of the dance.

In over 35 years dancing and teaching the Morris, I have made friends all around the country and abroad. I've danced in the Netherlands, France, Spain, and Romania, and met Morris dancers who have formed teams as far afield as Australia, Canada and NYC. A typical day out can include performing to crowds, dancing for the joy of it outside secluded pubs, sampling a range of local ales, singing traditional and modern songs, playing music in freeform sessions, and generally having a high old time with friends.

Funny thing is, very few people have an automatic reaction of making fun of the traditional dances of any other culture.
 
Mikefule said:
OK, just this once, I'll bite. :) I've even put a smiley to show it's all in good sport.

Morris dancing is an English (and Welsh borders) tradition, as much a part of our culture as the Haka is for the Maoris, or any other traditional dance form is for its culture of origin.

Part of the English tradition is that we quietly get on with it instead of putting on big competitions like the Irish or Scots, and another part of it is that we have perhaps a unique balance between taking it seriously and doing it tongue in cheek. We know it sometimes looks ridiculous — sometimes it's even meant to — but we also take it seriously because it's worth it.

My own "side" (team, club) has a repertoire of around 50 dances in about 10 distinct styles, for sets of 6 or 8 dancers, and a further repertoire of around a dozen solo dances (or, sometimes, pairs) called "jigs". The one style that I specialise in teaching has 8 distinct steps to learn.

The one word, "Morris", encompasses several distinct groups of dances, including the "Cotswold style" shown in your video, which is teams of 6 or 8 dancers working together as a team. Even Cotswold includes styles so different that at first glance they are barely recognisable as "the same sort of thing" as each other.

North West Morris is a loud and impressive style that gets much of its effect from the forceful and precise stamping of wooden-soled traditional clogs in time with the beat.

In East Anglia, there was Molly dancing, about which we know only a little, and it has therefore been "imaginatively reconstructed" by enthusiasts.

There are the Shropshire/Welsh border dances where the dancers traditionally blackened their faces with soot to disguise their identities as they used their dancing as a pretext for "begging in a menacing manner".

Further north, there are sword dances and the superficially similar "rapper" dances in which very precisely drilled teams form a circle, each person holding the handle of one sword and the tip of another, then they weave complex patterns and, in rapper, turn somersaults.

Then there are the individual step dances, performed in clogs, but otherwise similar to Irish or tap dancing.

There are plenty more styles, but the point is, there is not one Thing that is called Morris dancing.

The music is incredibly varied, often using time signatures that musicians like Dave Brubeck thought were "breaking new ground" when he used them in his albums Time Out, and Time Further Out. 2/4, 4/4, and 6/8 are common and 3/4 and 9/8 are also used.

The music is played on pipe and tabor (a sort of flute or whistle accompanied by a drum) played by one person — a tradition known to be over 1,000 years old and still widespread in Europe; or on fiddle, melodeon, concertina and accordion, and sometimes on other instruments.

The tunes vary from simple, repetitive and robust to some of the most beautiful and complex melodies that were borrowed by composers such as Holst, and Vaughan Williams.

The Morris is a living tradition, with new tunes and new dances being composed from time to time, and with changes in the music, the instrumentation, the style of costume, and the details of the dance.

In over 35 years dancing and teaching the Morris, I have made friends all around the country and abroad. I've danced in the Netherlands, France, Spain, and Romania, and met Morris dancers who have formed teams as far afield as Australia, Canada and NYC. A typical day out can include performing to crowds, dancing for the joy of it outside secluded pubs, sampling a range of local ales, singing traditional and modern songs, playing music in freeform sessions, and generally having a high old time with friends.

Funny thing is, very few people have an automatic reaction of making fun of the traditional dances of any other culture.
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Fantastic, thank you! My brother is a Morris dancer. Haven't seen him perform, sadly, but I know other people, who do it and I've been to watch them.

Wasn't there a Morris troupe of bikers who did the dances in their leathers?
 
escargot said:
F
Wasn't there a Morris troupe of bikers who did the dances in their leathers?
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Side, club, group, team, but never troupe! <<shudder>> ;)

The side that famously danced in biker leathers was Royal Liberty. They're still going strong as a side, although no longer doing the leathers thing, which I think was probably a short term publicity thing. A quick search found this grainy footage of them. Although they are clearly hamming up to the rock 'n' roll image, they are also doing some very precise figures.


I'm a biker (Guzzi) and rock and roll fan myself. Every so often, a few of us discuss doing a tour on the bikes, but of course you can't drink and ride, so it never happens. There's a biker or two in most sides, and I have always found that bikers and rockers/metalheads make a great Morris audience.
 
Mikefule said:
OK, just this once, I'll bite. :) I've even put a smiley to show it's all in good sport.

Morris dancing is an English (and Welsh borders) tradition, as much a part of our culture as the Haka is for the Maoris, or any other traditional dance form is for its culture of origin.

Part of the English tradition is that we quietly get on with it instead of putting on big competitions like the Irish or Scots, and another part of it is that we have perhaps a unique balance between taking it seriously and doing it tongue in cheek. We know it sometimes looks ridiculous — sometimes it's even meant to — but we also take it seriously because it's worth it.

My own "side" (team, club) has a repertoire of around 50 dances in about 10 distinct styles, for sets of 6 or 8 dancers, and a further repertoire of around a dozen solo dances (or, sometimes, pairs) called "jigs". The one style that I specialise in teaching has 8 distinct steps to learn.

The one word, "Morris", encompasses several distinct groups of dances, including the "Cotswold style" shown in your video, which is teams of 6 or 8 dancers working together as a team. Even Cotswold includes styles so different that at first glance they are barely recognisable as "the same sort of thing" as each other.

North West Morris is a loud and impressive style that gets much of its effect from the forceful and precise stamping of wooden-soled traditional clogs in time with the beat.

In East Anglia, there was Molly dancing, about which we know only a little, and it has therefore been "imaginatively reconstructed" by enthusiasts.

There are the Shropshire/Welsh border dances where the dancers traditionally blackened their faces with soot to disguise their identities as they used their dancing as a pretext for "begging in a menacing manner".

Further north, there are sword dances and the superficially similar "rapper" dances in which very precisely drilled teams form a circle, each person holding the handle of one sword and the tip of another, then they weave complex patterns and, in rapper, turn somersaults.

Then there are the individual step dances, performed in clogs, but otherwise similar to Irish or tap dancing.

There are plenty more styles, but the point is, there is not one Thing that is called Morris dancing.

The music is incredibly varied, often using time signatures that musicians like Dave Brubeck thought were "breaking new ground" when he used them in his albums Time Out, and Time Further Out. 2/4, 4/4, and 6/8 are common and 3/4 and 9/8 are also used.

The music is played on pipe and tabor (a sort of flute or whistle accompanied by a drum) played by one person — a tradition known to be over 1,000 years old and still widespread in Europe; or on fiddle, melodeon, concertina and accordion, and sometimes on other instruments.

The tunes vary from simple, repetitive and robust to some of the most beautiful and complex melodies that were borrowed by composers such as Holst, and Vaughan Williams.

The Morris is a living tradition, with new tunes and new dances being composed from time to time, and with changes in the music, the instrumentation, the style of costume, and the details of the dance.

In over 35 years dancing and teaching the Morris, I have made friends all around the country and abroad. I've danced in the Netherlands, France, Spain, and Romania, and met Morris dancers who have formed teams as far afield as Australia, Canada and NYC. A typical day out can include performing to crowds, dancing for the joy of it outside secluded pubs, sampling a range of local ales, singing traditional and modern songs, playing music in freeform sessions, and generally having a high old time with friends.

Funny thing is, very few people have an automatic reaction of making fun of the traditional dances of any other culture.
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Thank you for your detailed description, where I come from each little village has its own MD troop / troupe so I am used to it. I just find it faintly weird and somewhat amusing.

However it does seem a good excuse to hang out with your friends, get a bit of exercise and drink lots of real ale while causing no harm or offence to anyone and keeping ancient traditions based upon the seasons alive.

So you have my respect for all that.

It's just not for me. Especially as I live in Ukraine these days. We don't have Morris Dancers in Kyiv instead we have lots of Cossacks wrecking their knee joints with their energetic leaping around which all harks back to Ukraine's ancient traditions.

Have a look here, Bet you're glad you're a Morris Dancer and not a Cossack ... think of the knees!

 
I agree that magic is in the eye of the beholder to some extent.

Illustration: I was out walking with someone who had been led (by others I hasten to add, not me) to believe that I was somewhat 'fey'. We were walking along a stretch of stream and I said 'you often get kingfishers along here'. And at that moment a kingfisher flew out from under a bank below us and streaked down the length of the stream. My companion watched, somewhat dumbfounded. A bit further on and I said 'there's sometimes a heron...' and the heron in question obligingly came swooping in and landed on the water just in front of us.

'How did you do that?' gasped my, now open mouthed, associate. I, of course, just smiled feyly and continued on my way.

Pure coincidence and knowing the stretch of water really well, but now there's someone out there who thinks I 'made' those birds appear.
 
catseye said:
I agree that magic is in the eye of the beholder to some extent.

Illustration: I was out walking with someone who had been led (by others I hasten to add, not me) to believe that I was somewhat 'fey'. We were walking along a stretch of stream and I said 'you often get kingfishers along here'. And at that moment a kingfisher flew out from under a bank below us and streaked down the length of the stream. My companion watched, somewhat dumbfounded. A bit further on and I said 'there's sometimes a heron...' and the heron in question obligingly came swooping in and landed on the water just in front of us.

'How did you do that?' gasped my, now open mouthed, associate. I, of course, just smiled feyly and continued on my way.

Pure coincidence and knowing the stretch of water really well, but now there's someone out there who thinks I 'made' those birds appear.
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Imagine if we could actually hear the heron talking : "But... how so, coincidence? He actually used the protocol to summon a heron to flyby! The international, validated by the forest, protocol, I mean! Nobody can fake something like that! Or doing it by mistake..." :D
 
I think it is easy to dismiss magic, and in some ways I think that is a good thing, but experience tells me that there is more going on.

For example, catseye's story made me remember all the times my grandma whistled birds out of trees. She had an uncanny knack, that she could get birds to land on her. She didn't even use birdseed, not that I can imagine a sort of birdseed that would have her success rate. All she would do I look up into a tree at a bird, and stay very still. Sometimes she would whistle, but often not. Normally she would be smiling quietly with her lips closed, a bit like the Mona Lisa, and then after a few minutes the bird would land on the back of her hand or in her hair or on her shoulder. These were wild city birds too; pigeons, sparrows etc. She became quite ill later in her life, and once during a hospital stay we arrived to find her room was full of birds. How many? I don't know, but well over 12. The duty nurses were utterly freaked out, and to be fair it could have been considered a bit too Hitchcock if you didn't know my Grandma. So catseye, I wouldn't be surprised if in some unconscious way perhaps you did call the birds, I've seen it happen IRL all too frequently.

When I asked my grandma how she did it, she said that she didn't really know, but she loved birds and she was pretty sure they knew it too. When I asked her why she didn't "go public" with her ability, she said that most people would probably dismiss her as a fraud, foolish people might think she was a saint or a witch, and heaven forfend that a bad person figured out how to manipulate what she did to some bad end, so basically there was nothing to be gained by doing so, and she didn't want to cheapen it by becoming a circus act. While I will always favor skepticism, I don't think everything has a scientific explanation.
 
catseye said:
I agree that magic is in the eye of the beholder to some extent.

Illustration: I was out walking with someone who had been led (by others I hasten to add, not me) to believe that I was somewhat 'fey'. We were walking along a stretch of stream and I said 'you often get kingfishers along here'. And at that moment a kingfisher flew out from under a bank below us and streaked down the length of the stream. My companion watched, somewhat dumbfounded. A bit further on and I said 'there's sometimes a heron...' and the heron in question obligingly came swooping in and landed on the water just in front of us.

'How did you do that?' gasped my, now open mouthed, associate. I, of course, just smiled feyly and continued on my way.

Pure coincidence and knowing the stretch of water really well, but now there's someone out there who thinks I 'made' those birds appear.
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Heh, yup, years ago we had new neighbours. The husband and I stood outside talking over the fence one summer evening. I mentioned bats as it was nearly that time when they'd swoop around. He said 'Bats? Naaah, never, you're joking!' and one immediately buzzed the top of his head. He called me Batwoman for a while after that.
 
AlchoPwn said:
When I asked her why she didn't "go public" with her ability, she said that most people would probably dismiss her as a fraud, foolish people might think she was a saint or a witch, and heaven forfend that a bad person figured out how to manipulate what she did to some bad end, so basically there was nothing to be gained by doing so, and she didn't want to cheapen it by becoming a circus act.
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It was personal to her and she saw no need to share it, that sort of thing? I can relate to that.
 
Now you come to say it, Alcho - I can 'whistle' buzzards. I've got a 'between the teeth' whistle I use on the dogs, and it sounds a bit like a buzzard's cry, so when I do it when the buzzards are about, I tend to get one coming overhead just to check out that I'm not lying there dying and in need of a chunk taking out of me.

It's nothing special, just a particular pitch that appeals to buzzards (and my dogs), but I can see how it would look like magic to someone from the city.
 
catseye said:
Now you come to say it, Alcho - I can 'whistle' buzzards. I've got a 'between the teeth' whistle I use on the dogs, and it sounds a bit like a buzzard's cry, so when I do it when the buzzards are about, I tend to get one coming overhead just to check out that I'm not lying there dying and in need of a chunk taking out of me. It's nothing special, just a particular pitch that appeals to buzzards (and my dogs), but I can see how it would look like magic to someone from the city.
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Hey, I understand. While my eyesight is terrible, my hearing is ridiculously good. I can do that very same "between the teeth" whistle to scare off angry dogs too. I find that if I do a hard sharp long whistle, they run off. I lack local buzzards to attract though. The thing is, while my grandma was a country girl, she didn't even whistle to the birds most of the time, only if they needed a little more encouragement. If she had been whistling, I would have heard her, as I can hear dog whistles at a decent range.
 
Let me revive this thread. About translating grimoires:

https://www.hadeanpress.com/translating-magic

In a collection of his essays reflecting upon what it means to translate a text, Eco writes that a faithful translation "must aim at rendering, not necessarily the intention of the author (who may have been dead for millennia), but the intention of the text — the intention of the text being the outcome of an interpretative effort on the part of the reader, the critic or the translator."[1] Faced with a text of ritual magic, however (the author of which has indeed been dead for well over four hundred years), the translator finds that reconstructing this interpretative dialogue between text and hypothetical reader takes on additional layers of complexity.

A grimoire is, on one level, an instruction manual; its "intention" is the performative reproduction of the ritual actions described within its pages. This intention, however, is precariously balanced upon another interpretative stratum encoding an entire cosmological, theological, natural and metaphysical system in which the performance of those actions can be efficacious in some meaningful way. This magically-operative paradigm, in which the agency and identity of the active reader are centered and defined, is thus embodied by the text and reproduced by the efforts of its interpreters.[2]
 
This is neat. This is a chant from mushroom eating curandera Maria Sabina:

Because I can swim in the immense
Because I can swim in all forms
Because I am the launch woman
Because I am the sacred opposum
Because I am the Lord opposum

I am the woman Book that is beneath the water, says
I am the woman of the populous town, says
I am the shepherdess who is beneath the water, says
I am the woman who shepherds the immense, says
I am a shepherdess and I come with my shepherd, says

Because everything has its origin
And I come going from place to place from the origin...[17]


:cool:


I call thee, the headless one, that didst create earth and heaven, that didst create night and day, thee the creator of light and darkness. Though art Osoronnophris, whom no man hath seen at any time; though art Iabas, though art Iapos, though has distinguished the just and the unjust, though didst make female and male, though didst produce seeds and fruits, though didst make men to love one another and to hate one another. I am Moses thy prophet, to whom thou didst commit thy mysteries, the ceremonies of Israel; though didst produce the moist and the dry and all manner of food. Listen to me: I am an angel of Phapro Osoronnophris; this is thy true name, handed down to the prophets of Israel. Listen to me, …………. ………………………………………………….. hear me and drive away this spirit.

I call thee the terrible and invisible god residing in the empty wind,……………….. thou headless one, deliver such an one from the spirit that possesses him…………………. ……………………………………………….. strong one, headless one, deliver such an one from the spirit that possesses him ……………………………………………………… deliver such an one……………………………………..

This is the lord of the gods, this is the lord of the world, this is whom the winds fear, this is he who made voice by his commandment, lord of all things, king, ruler, helper, save this soul ………………………………………………………………… angel of God ……… ……………………………………………….. I am the headless spirit, having sight in my feet, strong, the immortal fire; I am the truth; I am he that hateth that ill-deeds should be done in the world; I am he that lighteneth and thundereth; I am he whose sweat is the shower that falleth upon the earth that it may teem: I am he whose mouth ever burneth; I am the begetter and the bringer forth (?); I am the Grace of the World; my name is the heart girt with a serpent. Come forth and follow.—The celebration of the preceding ceremony.—Write the names upon a piece of new paper, and having extended it over your forehead from one temple to the other, address yourself turning toward the north to the six names, saying: Make all spirits subject to me, so that every spirit of heaven and of the air, upon the earth and under the earth, on dry land and in the water, and every spell and scourge of God, may be obedient to me.—And all the spirits shall be obedient to you. . . .

The process of connecting the "I" with the "O" through the "A" :cool:
 
Because I can swim in the immense
Because I can swim in all forms
Because I am the launch woman
Because I am the sacred opposum
Because I am the Lord opposum

I must be feeling tireder than I thought. I was reading 'opposum' as 'oppossum' and wondering why the hell being a small marsupial was a good thing. Mind you, being a Lord Oppossum would carry quite a lot of clout, I imagine.
 
The word magic is an adjective from mage. So when a mage acts within the Flow, his/her actions are magic.

Similarly the word music is an adjective from muse. When the muses come the performance is mus-ic. Otherwise, as Wagner said, it is a tonal performance.

Who then qualifies to perform magic actions?
 
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