I desire to know this Kingdom intimately, to taste the salt, till the soil, smell the shit. Five senses simply aren’t enough. O Lord of the Earth grant me discrimination that I may rightly choose the path leading into The Meadow of Delights. I cast my circle and cross the threshold to discover the sweetest of fruits ripe for the picking. They drop to the ground and rot before my eyes; citrine, olive, russet, black. Seconds turn to seasons as new sprouts emerge from the rich compost and grow into bountiful blossoming trees, the cycle continues. I gaze across the meadow and there she sits triumphantly, the young queen on her throne wearing a crown made of earth and water and air and fire…
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Ten.
I will build a Foundation here, solid enough to securely support the amethyst architecture of my dreams. O Almighty Living God grant me independence from the matrix, remaining online while going off-grid. I dance into The Secret Valley; strong, naked, and free, while the moon overhead changes phases with each fluttering lash of blinking eye. I detect a nearby presence and watch through the back of my skull as the wild forest cat stealthily follows my movements. It is now advisable to keep perfectly still. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. Suddenly in one motionless moment the violet curtains of slumbering subconsciousness rip to shreds revealing The Vision of the Machinery of the Universe…
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Nine.
I want to inhabit the Splendor of the Mind, from conception to completion of masterfully meticulous mechanisms. O God of Hosts grant me the truthfulness necessary to tell it like it is and the tact required to not be an asshole in the process. I approach The House of Spells in all its mercurial majesty, a cobblestone courtyard made from millions of ancient first edition esoteric texts written in forgotten romance languages, a sly orange fox weaving between the citrine columns. “This is the realm of active science, now get to work! Everything must be collected, labeled, measured, classified,” barked the fox who was actually a small man in a fox suit. “The Magician lives here, so keep your wits about you…”
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Eight.
I am building a luscious life of Victory, rising above the shifting tides of emotional quicksand. O Lord of Hosts grant me the unselfishness to shine boldly and brightly, to share my light as a unique expression of your Divine Spectrum for the expansion of consciousness throughout creation. May the apple tree in life’s great orchard provide bountiful harvests in perpetuity. Eyes wide, endlessly enchanted by the endurance of emerald fairy forest and radiant red roses, I watch the speckled wood dove flutter across the garden and land at her bare feet, bare breasts, baring everything to me unashamed. O sweet Venus, personification of passion, The Vision of Beauty Triumphant…
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Seven.
I desire to dwell in the Beauty of this land, synchronizing my heartbeat with hers, a massive megalithic metronome. O Lord God of Knowledge grant me dedication to the Great Work so that all beings on Earth and beyond may be happy and free in actualization of The Vision of Harmony. Grandmother spider in her gossamer web, threads glistening delicately, all things connected to cosmic center. From here you can catch a glimpse of The Mountain of the Soul, time to lace up these old boots and start climbing. Upon reaching the summit I met a cloaked figure that transformed according to shifts in personal perspective. A Majestic King, an Innocent Child, a Sacrificed God…
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Six.
I want to know the place where Severity and Justice meet, the glowing red forge refining steel and adding strength to the blade. O Mighty God of Battles grant me the courage to wield the chain, the scourge, and the sword. One to bind tight, one to strip away, one to draw a line in the sand and run straight through all those who dare cross it. There is a great deal of pruning to be done, so chop away at the undergrowth and throw it on the purging pyre. Rising from the flames I see The Temple of Power, putting the fear in fierce. The mighty warrior in his chariot, pulled by armor plated steeds, an unstoppable rolling death machine. His throbbing veins pulse with the crimson blood of Mars…
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Five.
I thrive in the vast expanses of Mercy, abundance flowing as ceaseless stream, both the shallows and the depths encouraging the proliferation of life’s myriad forms, promoting sustainable growth from within. O Mighty One grant me obedience that I may exist in alignment with natural and Divine Law, the law of man discarded, reduced to a smoldering heap of rust and ashes. Radiant blessings permeating every cell as I tiptoe through the tulips under lapis lazuli skies. Giant Orbs materialize, rising from the forest floor resulting in bracken covered domes. In the shadow of The Temple of Love there sits the mighty King, crowned and enthroned…
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Four.
I long to breathe in Understanding, Black as the night, pupils the size of overloaded serving platters. O Mother God grant me the gift of silence. If you listen closely there are whale songs in the distance, immense migratory grids, timeless patterns circumnavigating the Great Sea. As I lift the Sacred Chalice to my parched lips the memory comes flooding back. On the swing at the beach, toes dragging across dark obsidian sand, a bouquet of lilies reminding you of birth, which inevitably reminds you of death. Overcome with The Vision of Sorrow…
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Three.
I aspire to embody Wisdom, speaking with actions so that words can be soft, quiet, and few. O Lord grant me devotion to thee, initiative to get the ball rolling, and the determination to kick it uphill when necessary. Massive wheels of whirling forces, the cosmic clockwork, keeping time outside of time. Billions of galaxies, each comprised of billions of stars, each one the center of its own unique solar system, celestial bodies as grains of sand. The wise owl asks “who” and in response a bearded male figure holding pearly scepter appears and proclaims “Cloak thyself in the Inner Robe of Glory and experience God-face to-face…”
So the Number of the Sphere shall be Two.
I will reclaim my Crown as the sovereign ruler of my own manifest destiny. I Am That I Am, grant me Union with God and entrance to the white brilliance of The Innermost Temple. The entirety of the multiverse abuzz with the workings of the Holy Living Creatures. Ascending the heights of Vast Countenance, pure Lotus Consciousness, the Completion of The Great Work.
I Am That I Am
I Am That I Am
I Am That I Am
So the Number of the Sphere shall be One.
Daniel Alcyone is a constant conscious creator and a modern mystic. He is a certified yoga and AcroYoga instructor, street artist, public speaker, metaphysician, and spiritual guide. The Ecstatic Existence podcast that he hosts and produces transmits high-vibe inspirational content throughout the world and interviews leading experts in the fields of alternative health and elevated consciousness. Daniel infuses illuminated intelligence, exuberant enthusiasm, and passionate presence into every single second.