The woodworker analogy
Imagine three woodworkers. One is interested in woodworking from a historical and academic perspective. She loves to read about woodworkers of the past, she knows the names and personal histories of the great woodworkers, and she understands everything about the theory and practice of woodworking both past and present, and she may even have written her own books about woodworking. She has never carved a piece of wood.
The second woodworker loves woodworking with a passion. He loves the feel of the tools, the smell of wood as it is carved, and is soothed by the practice of working with woods. He is not concerned with the outcome of his craft or developing any particular skill or technique, because the pleasure is in the doing of it, and what he produces is of no interest to himself or anyone else.
The third woodworker practices her craft because she wants to make useful items out of wood. She doesn’t care for woodworking itself and sometimes actively dislikes it, but she gains great satisfaction from being able to craft useful, beautiful items out of wood. If what she makes doesn’t satisfy her exacting standards, she discards it and refines her technique until she makes something excellent.
All three of these people gain satisfaction from their woodworking hobbies. All of them are perfectly justified in their approach and none of them are doing woodworking wrong. However, if you wanted to purchase something made from wood, you’d probably choose the third person. The lack of passion or intellectual curiosity is more than mitigated by the focus on actual effective woodworking.
If you wanted to find the very best woodworker, the one you would learn from and emulate, you would look for someone who combines these three approaches: the academic, the personal, and the practical. Passion, study and focus on outcome are all necessary for excelling in practicing a craft.
I suppose it’s obvious where I’m going with this. I see people taking all three of these approaches in different measures when practicing magic. The academic who finds all her magic in books; the aesthete who loves the smell of incense, the feel of the wind under the full moon, and the passion of spiritual communion; the sorcerer who looks at the bottom line of using magic to come closer to his personal goals and finds anything less to be silly role-playing. I don’t think any of these people are doing magic wrong. They get what they need out of it. If I’m looking for a teacher, though, I want someone who values all three. I value all three and I feel like my magic is worse off if I spend too much time in one of those realms.
I want books, I want poetry, I want read Ficino and Iamblichus and Agrippa, I want the dirt between my toes and the wind in my face, I want to feel my bones dissolve into the earth and I want my magic to get me a 10% raise at work. I want it all. I think I am poorer for neglecting any of these facets.
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