As I think I’ve described here (or maybe not, I don’t remember), my brother and I are cut from the same cloth. Literally. Like we’re both split from the same soul. One person, two fates. Twins separated by circumstance.
A few weeks ago I found out something about us that I was only just now ready to hear: Who we were before coming here to the paint factory, before the face and name we have now. We finally have a name for the guy we were. So many things about us suddenly make perfect sense… things that seemed a little random, or that we had figured out the “what” of, but not the “why.” Now we know why.
But I got to thinking… people still call on this guy, but we don’t hear or feel it. So how can we be that guy?
I finally went to ask Michael, and for the first time, he wasn’t there. Nothing. A gray wall. Blank.
This was so strange, because Michael has always been right there for me when I have a question. I almost never go to see him, though. Only when I really need to. And I needed the answer to this mystery, which was making me question the reality of this connection.
Then I thought to myself… Michael’s busy. He’s got thousands, maybe millions, of people asking him for stuff on a daily basis. But how does he do it? And why can’t he do the same for me now?
Then I got it. They’re all Michael. He can be in literally a million places at once, but they’re all still Michael. At the core, at the trunk of the tree, is Saint Michael the archangel… and what people talk to and see are branches… splits… like me and my brother… but at the core we’re the same soul.
Then he showed up with a smile on his face. Smartass. Yes, I answered my own question, but it took his absence to get me thinking. Well played.
So yeah, my brother and I are two branches, or maybe leaves, on a very large tree. He and I share a lot of feelings and thoughts, but we’re not completely identical, and we have separate and complimentary qualities too, like two kinds of leaves on the same tree. Go back far enough, and we’re the same branch. Still the same tree. One soul, two expressions of it.
I look back down the branch to the big guy that we came from, and it’s reassuring, and a source of power too. I know what we’re supposed to do, or I have a better idea of it, anyway. I know where our strengths are instead of using the “throw it at the wall and see if it sticks” method of figuring out what we do best. A waste of everyone’s time, and I’m glad that’s done. I’ll still experiment (just try and stop me, because it can be fun, no lie), but now I know why pushing a storm away works a hell of a lot better than trying to make the snow stop coming down, for example.
I wonder how many other branches there are.