The Michael entity consists of warriors and kings. They had many lifetimes as cowboys, riding the long, lonesome range, with no one to talk to but their horses, who usually weren’t very talkative themselves, so they developed into the strong, silent type. Like Mr. Ed, the television horse, they only spoke when he had something to say. Not having something to say rarely stops sages and artisans, who can be rather flamboyant at times.
If Michael were a sage/artisan entity, their style would be a lot different. To illustrate, below is a transcript of a channeling I did from Butch, another mid-causal entity made up of eight hundred sages and two hundred fifty artisans in the fifth (sage) position of the same cadre Michael is in. The client’s name is Arnie J. (this excerpt is reproduced with his permission), who sought advice about some relationship issues with his significant other, Judy S.
Arnie, darling, that energy field is just so not you. How about some color, maybe tangerine for warmth and a splash of puce to give it some depth? That old brown thing has got to go. (They chuck it out the window.) … No, real men really do — think roosters. You want to attract your chicken, don’t you? Drab is out.
Let’s take a look in your kitchen. EEEEEEEEEck! We realize we said that “All is cheese” but when was the last time you cut off the mold? Penicillin has already been discovered, so we doubt you’re impressing Judy. No wonder she doesn’t like to come over here. (They toss it out the window. A yell is heard.) Girlfriend, we’re going shopping. There are so many cheeses to choose from. Don’t limit yourself to Velveeta.
About that past life when you burned down Judy’s village: We don’t care what Michael said. Tell her, “Karma, Shmarma!” She needs to get over it already. That was almost five hundred years ago! Back then, everyone was burning down villages — it was very hot. And, frankly, you did her a big favor — that wardrobe of hers was so medieval. It really had to go. But just between us, although we never tell anyone what to do, you might try to avoid inflicting third-degree burns in the future — it dries the skin.
We know that you have a special weekend coming up and you’d like to surprise Judy with some essence contact. Why don’t you take her to that romantic spot on the river where you heroically saved her life during a storm in 1897? (True, you were repaying a debt from a life when you drowned her, but she doesn’t need to know that.) She’s sure to get all fahrklempt as you open the picnic basket you prepared for her containing caviar and that fine wine she used to make in Burgundy. A nice camembert or brebiou with Scandinavian crispbread … No, honey, Velveeta and Ritz might spoil the effect — save that for another lifetime, when it’s nostalgic.
You’ll do great, Arnie, we’re sure! We’ll be watching your big date from the mid-causal plane and rooting for you. Just ditch the polyester bowling shirts, okay?
Ta-ta for now. We send you big touchy-feely air hugs and wet, sloppy causal kisses.
BTW, Michael says to say “Hi.”