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It shows?

In elorie's discussion "Dammit, Jim, I'm a witch, not Mr. Fixit," I observed:

My approach to teaching, or needing to teach, is generally "Stop them before they make it necessary for me or someone else to seriously pick up after them ... AGAIN!" Sometimes it's Not My Call, so I have to let it by gently.

The immediate response: Yes, but you really are the EMT, you know?

My first thought: You mean it shows?

Heh. So I am. So indeed I am. And evidently I need to recognize this, because the bulk of my advanced sage advice is aimed at, surprise, someone else in what was aptly labeled the "EMT" school of magicgeeking. The bulk of my experience is located there. If someone not in the EMT calling is in need of a teacher, even desperately in need, it's still not a thing I can do full-time. If it comes to a point where they're in need of an EMT, I will step in, but otherwise I point at the library and the internet and put up a flag for anyone available who does take on students.

A lot of active magic is the inward path of self-discovery and enlightenment. I work on that personally, but I don't really consider that part of it at all suitable to talk about in public. That falls heavily into Religion, which I see as somewhat separate from what I could call Wizardry. And regardless of what religion someone is, if they're spitting sparks and broadcasting broadband angst, that's my department to get all that seen to. So it's my duty to be able to translate "ground and center and shield" into all sorts of different phrasings, because it ultimately doesn't matter the metaphor as long as they can understand it and things get done.

But. It shows that much?
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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