SCHOOL OF OUR DIVINE
INFINITE BEING
Polytheistic Monism - Divine Theurgy - Oracle to the Gods
Preparing the Body and Soul for Celestial Contact
(Chapter 5 of Ritual Praxis and Instruction - School of our Divine Infinite Being)
This meditation serves as a powerful complement to both astrological study and planetary ritual theurgy. It is designed to deepen and strengthen your connection with the transconscious presence of the Planetary Gods residing within the solar center of our cosmos.
This practice transcends mere imagination; it is a sacred invocation—an active, soul-led engagement with these divine intelligences through the intuitive faculty. To fully enter into this encounter, your posture, breath, and overall presence must embody the gravity and holiness of this sacred communion.
The body must become the temple. The position you choose should support both alertness and stillness, allowing you to remain physically grounded and psychically open throughout the entire sequence.
We recommend one of the following traditional postures:
The Seated Dragon (Vajrasana): Kneeling with your hips on your heels, spine upright, hands resting gently on your thighs. This posture creates a firm and focused base.
The Lotus Pose (Padmasana): Cross-legged with each foot resting on the opposite thigh. Use this if your body is prepared and flexible enough to maintain it with ease and dignity.
The Noble Seat (Siddhasana): Cross-legged with one heel pressed into the perineum and the spine aligned. A stable and potent posture for energy retention.
Chair-Seated Posture: If floor postures are not accessible, sit upright in a firm chair with feet flat on the ground, spine long, and hands resting palms-up on the thighs.
Whichever form you choose, the principle is the same: vertical alignment of the spine, relaxed shoulders, open chest, and a still gaze or closed eyes. Let the posture reflect reverence and readiness. You are seated as the microcosm, preparing to commune with the macrocosmic gods.
The goal of this meditation is to enter into contact with the immensity and presence of the planetary intelligences—not through intellectual abstraction, but through the imaginal faculty, which Iamblichus and the theurgic tradition regard as the bridge between the human and the divine.
In this meditation, you will:
Root yourself in the immensity of the Earth, your divine ground and home.
Awaken your intuitive sensitivity through the lunar mirror, the psychic reflector of all celestial forces.
Invoke the transconscious immensity of each planetary being—from the Sun to Pluto—by imagining them at the distance of the Moon, where their vast size and energy can be felt viscerally and psychically.
Allow the Moon to act as the intuitive lens, focusing and transmitting the planetary intelligences into your soul.
Cultivate anima mundi awareness—the living soul of the world through which these celestial beings continuously commune with Earth and humanity.
You are not merely contemplating planets. You are entering a rite of cosmic recognition. The planetary gods are not abstractions but vast divine beings, and their presence, approached through theurgy, can reshape the soul toward divine likeness.
Let the body become still. Let the breath become deep. Let the soul become vast.
Begin when you are fully present
Each of the following meditations visualizes a planetary god brought to the distance of the Moon, allowing you to encounter the god’s visible body as both a physical immensity and a transconscious psyche. Each planet is not a symbol of the god—it is the god, revealed in cosmic embodiment, its rhythms, scale, and features being the ongoing expression of divine nature. Through the reflective nature of the Moon, each becomes intuitively available to the soul, awakening direct imaginal contact.
Now bring the Sun to the distance of the Moon. Visualize before you an immense, blazing sphere—over 400 times the diameter of the Moon, glowing with a radiance so intense it bathes the entire sky in golden light. This is no mere orb of light—it is a seething furnace of plasma, roaring with nuclear fire, the cosmic heart beating at the center of your experience.
At this close distance, the Sun’s surface is a swirling dance of flame and shadow—great solar prominences loop and arc outward like divine serpents of fire, while sunspots ripple as darker patches of mystery on the golden sea. Its corona extends far beyond its visible body, sending waves of radiant energy outward in all directions, stirring the unseen currents of your soul.
Physically, the Sun is a colossal star whose gravitational and electromagnetic forces hold the entire solar system in harmonious orbit. Yet here, at lunar distance, it is also the visible body of Helios, the radiant solar god, the eternal source of life, light, and consciousness itself. The Sun is the axis mundi of your astral vision—the primal fire that animates all planetary gods, the divine heart around which all else revolves.
Feel this vastness—not only in size but in power and presence. The Sun is both the father and the eye of God, the great illuminator whose light reveals all truths and whose warmth sustains all existence. His power is not coercive but life-giving, an overwhelming vitality that fills every fiber of your being.
Using the Moon as the reflective mirror, imagine the Sun’s intense brilliance softened and rendered accessible—not as harsh glare, but as a golden aura bathing your entire field of vision. The Moon acts as a sacred lens, tempering the Sun’s radiance so your transconscious mind can approach this divine flame safely, entering into communion rather than being overwhelmed.
Let the Moon’s reflective light allow you to enter the Sun’s sphere as the visible body of divine consciousness itself. Sense yourself becoming one with this radiance—not merely as an observer but as a co-illumined being. The Sun’s vast immensity dissolves any sense of separation; here, you are bathed in the eternal source, aligned with the core of your own vital spirit.
As you hold this visualization, contemplate the solar rhythms—the steady pulse of day and night, the cycles of light that govern growth and decay, awakening and rest. Feel the Sun’s power as the center of your own life force, the fire of conscious will and radiant identity.
This is the Sun as the visible god of awakening, illumination, and sovereign power. He calls you to shine forth your true nature, to awaken your highest potential, and to integrate your soul with the cosmic order. In this divine light, all shadows are revealed and transformed.
Let the immensity and warmth of the Sun fill you with radiant life. Let Helios ignite your inner fire and awaken your transconscious sight—the ability to see beyond illusion into the luminous heart of being.When ready, gently withdraw your vision, carrying the Sun’s radiant power within, your soul illumined, your spirit energized, and your will aligned with the eternal flame of divine presence.
Imagine Mercury at the distance of the Moon—suspended in the sky as an enormous, gray, cratered sphere, nearly the same size as the Moon, yet radiating a wholly different kind of silence. Its surface is beaten and ancient, scored with thousands of impacts—each a scar of celestial memory. But its true power lies not in what is seen, but what is implied beneath: Mercury is the densest planet after Earth, its metallic core swallowing nearly 85% of its total volume. This is not a body of rock and crust—it is almost entirely core, condensed essence, pure interiority.
Mercury has no atmosphere. No air softens its contours. No wind sings across its terrain. It is exposed, raw, unfiltered—a mirror not of appearances, but of essential truth. One side of Mercury is seared by the unrelenting blaze of the Sun, while the other rests in frozen darkness. Its rotation is painfully slow, but its orbit is swift, dancing around the Sun faster than any other planet. This paradox holds: it is the fastest in motion, yet slowest to turn. Time warps here—motion without movement, velocity without urgency.
Now, within the framework of theurgy, you are not gazing at a distant object. You are beholding the visible body of Hermes, the psychopomp, the divine intermediary, the alchemical intelligence of transformation and transmutation. He is the guide between worlds, the articulator of symbols, the god who moves through dream, flash, and cipher.
To experience Mercury in this rite is to enter the circuitry of divine language. He is not merely the “messenger”—he is the architecture of message itself. His metallic density is the core logic of thought, and his cratered body is a codex, a living script written by the cosmos through time.
His lack of atmosphere symbolizes the absence of distortion: what he communicates is precise, unmediated, and direct. He does not soften truths. He delivers them like celestial code. Mercury is the archetype of lucidity—of that inner moment when all parts of a pattern suddenly converge.
Through the reflective gate of the Moon, you now bring Mercury into transconscious contact. The Moon acts not just as a mirror, but as the receptive eye of psyche, through which the resonance of Mercury is received—not as sound, but as patterned insight, flashes of knowing, diagrams of divine rhythm. You do not “hear” Mercury—you are recalibrated by him.
Let his whisper enter as synchronicity, coincidence, nuance, re-meaning. Let the god of the liminal threshold awaken in you the inner translator, the being within you that can move between gods, navigate the soul’s unfolding, and speak the language of form, energy, and correspondence.
Here, Mercury becomes more than a planet. He becomes transmuted presence—an initiatory field that activates the intellectual fire within, sharpening your discernment, refining your symbolic hearing, and aligning your perception to the harmonic grammar of the gods.
Hold this vision. Let Mercury, dense and immense at the Moon’s distance, boil in your sky—a compact storm of cognition, the god of transmutation gazing back at you with his cratered eye. Feel the weight of his presence not as burden, but as the pressure of knowing.
Now bring Venus to the distance of the Moon. She rises in your inner sky not gently, but with overpowering presence. From this proximity, she is a creamy golden orb, slightly smaller than Earth, yet she radiates with a light so intense that the Moon's familiar glow now seems pale in memory. Her brilliance saturates the horizon—not cold like stars, but thick with presence, as if the atmosphere itself has turned to silk and light. She does not simply appear in the sky—she arrives.
Her entire surface is hidden by a swirling shroud of yellow-white clouds, reflecting more than 70% of sunlight. At this closeness, the veil is luminous and impenetrable—a storm of brightness. Beneath those clouds, you know, lie volcanic plains, mountains crushed under a pressure 90 times that of Earth, and temperatures that can melt lead. Her heat is not fire, but suffocation. Her silence is not peace, but intensely inward pressure.
Venus rotates backwards—a slow, haunting reversal of time. Her day is longer than her year. This temporal inversion speaks not of disorder, but of inward sovereignty. She moves according to her own law. The spiral of her orbit creates a sacred rose—a five-petaled flower traced in her eight-year dance with Earth. This is not symbol—it is divine order in celestial geometry, an erotic symmetry scripted across time.
Venus is the visible body of Aphrodite, the goddess not of indulgence, but of form-giving desire. She is the gravity behind cohesion—the reason matter binds to matter, the reason longing seeks completion. This is not the softness of romance, but the terrifying intensity of the Beautiful—that which compels, seduces, binds, and transforms.
Through the lunar mirror, her blinding power is made perceptible to your transconscious psyche. The Moon softens what would otherwise destroy your gaze, offering her as magnetic intimacy—an invitation, not an invasion. From this distance, she teaches not through thought, but through pull. What draws your soul? What holds your attention against your will? What do you orbit without understanding why?
Feel Venus not only in the sky, but in your blood, your breath, your skin’s sensitivity. She is the field of erotic intelligence, the knowing of what fits, what harmonizes, what calls. Her backwards spin is the divine refusal to follow expected paths. Her brightness is a summons to stand in the fire of the beautiful without retreating.
Let her presence envelop you, not as a comforting mother, but as a gravitational anima—demanding, veiled, absolutely magnetic. Her mystery is not to be solved. Her power is not to be named. She is the law of desire written in stars and skin.
Now imagine Mars at the distance of the Moon. The night sky is pierced by a sphere of fierce red—not glowing, but radiating presence like embers under ash. His surface rises before you, rugged and raw, colored in deep ochre and burnt rust. This is no mythic war zone—it is a vast, real landscape of cracked deserts, volcanic scars, and silence so complete it feels like a held breath.
From this distance, Mars looms with stark majesty. You see Olympus Mons, the tallest volcano in the solar system, rising three times the height of Everest and wide enough to cover the state of Arizona. Nearby, Valles Marineris splits the surface like a divine wound—a canyon system so vast it would stretch across the continental United States. His atmosphere is nearly absent—less than 1% of Earth’s—making every contour stand in razor clarity, unsoftened, uncompromised. There are dry riverbeds, haunting reminders that Mars once flowed with water. Now, he preserves only the memory of movement, like a warrior who has set down his weapons but remains alert.
Mars is not dead. He is focused vitality—the very archetype of will, drive, and decisive action. He is Ares, not as myth, but as matter: his redness is iron, oxidized and laid bare, the trace of battle in the body of a god. Every inch of his terrain speaks of friction, impact, fire cooled into dust. He is not chaos, but the form that emerges from friction. He exists not to destroy, but to differentiate—to carve, to separate, to assert.
He does not whisper like Venus, nor orbit quickly like Mercury. Mars confronts. He is the psychic sword—the blade that divides self from other, clarity from confusion, truth from noise. He speaks not in words, but in decisions, boundaries, and bold initiations. At this proximity, his silence is absolute. His presence does not ask for understanding. It demands alignment.
Seen through the lunar mirror, Mars becomes accessible to your transconscious will. The Moon softens his severity just enough for you to feel him without collapse. What was once distant becomes internalized as a flame—not of rage, but of intelligent force. His transmission is simple: Move. Cut. Act. Do not explain. Do not ask permission.
Feel him now within your solar plexus, your spine, your muscles ready to spring. Mars awakens your power to rise when pushed down, to hold your ground when tempted to retreat, and to walk forward into the unknown when others wait for certainty. He is your capacity to choose a direction without waiting for clarity to be given from above.
Let Mars fill you—not with heat, but with precision. Let his dryness purify you from distractions. Let his harsh, unadorned landscape mirror the part of you that does not need approval, does not fear opposition, and does not bend to comfort.
This is Mars, the visible god of assertion. Not your violence, but your emergent self.Not your chaos, but your cosmic yes.
Now bring Jupiter to the distance of the Moon—and let your breath catch in your chest. There before you fills the entire arc of the sky, a sphere so vast and magnificent it overwhelms your senses. Jupiter is not just large—it is colossal beyond ordinary comprehension. It is a giant of over 1,300 times the volume of Earth, a swirling maelstrom of bronze, cream, and ochre clouds, crowned with endless storms and flickering lightning that crackles like the breath of gods.
The surface you see is not solid ground but an immense ocean of thick gases, layered in great swirling bands that ripple and twist with ceaseless energy. The Great Red Spot, a tempest larger than Earth itself, churns endlessly—a storm that has raged for centuries, a living emblem of power and endurance. There is no land to stand upon, only pressure and depth descending beyond human reach, a vast body of elemental fire and storm compressed into immense size.
This is the visible body of Zeus, the divine king who rules not by brute force but through sacred authority and cosmic law. Jupiter is the oracular lawgiver of the astral spheres, the primal orderer who establishes hierarchy and coherence across the cosmos. He does not command in a harsh or arbitrary way; rather, he orders—bringing harmony to chaos, structure to vastness, meaning to multiplicity.
His size is not the ego of a tyrant but the ontological reality of all things united in one sovereign whole. He is the living field in which all lesser worlds and beings find their place, their movement, and their purpose.
At lunar distance, Jupiter’s immensity feels like standing before a living cathedral of light and storm. His electromagnetic field extends far beyond his visible body, enveloping his many moons, countless particles, and subtle currents of cosmic energy. This field is a dynamic, sovereign embrace—an invisible architecture of power and protection that holds the heavens in alignment.
The Moon acts as a sacred lens here, reflecting Jupiter’s presence into the realm of your transconscious psyche. Through this lunar mediation, Jupiter is not experienced as mere instruction or external authority, but as symbolic comprehension made manifest. His voice is not loud; it is the subtle rising of wisdom encoded in patterns, rhythms, and cycles. His language is found in dreams, in mythic teachings, and in the sudden illumination of inner meaning.
Allow Jupiter to exalt you—not with pride, but with awe. Let him terrify you—not with fear, but with the recognition of your smallness before cosmic majesty. Let him humble you, not by diminishment, but by opening you to the vast, sacred order that holds you within its infinite embrace.
Here is the king who shows you that true power flows from alignment with the divine law, the flow of the cosmos itself. The God who teaches that greatness is not possession but participation in the grand unfolding.
Now Saturn appears before you at the distance of the Moon—a massive sphere glowing with a solemn golden light, encircled by vast, majestic rings that stretch across the heavens like a cosmic crown. These rings are not solid bands but composed of countless icy fragments, from tiny specks to enormous blocks of ice and rock, each tracing a perfect orbit with delicate precision. Their shimmering dance is a testament to cosmic harmony, an eternal ballet of structure and repetition.
Saturn is larger than Earth, dwarfing it many times over, yet smaller than Jupiter. Despite this, his immensity feels no less profound. His presence is one of gravitas and inward depth—slow and steady, a pulse that echoes the heartbeat of time itself. His axis leans in a thoughtful tilt, as if bowing toward the unfolding of ages.
This is the visible body of Kronos, the lord of time, structure, limit, and sacred form. Saturn’s essence is not cruelty or harshness, as often misunderstood. Rather, he is truth revealed through duration—the patient unfolding of all that must be borne and endured. His rings symbolize boundaries, the sacred margins that hold form and contain chaos. His storms, though fierce, are disciplines of nature, refining, purifying, and preserving what lasts.
At this lunar distance, Saturn transforms before your inner eyes into a living cathedral—an architectural marvel etched in light and shadow, his rings like the sacred glyphs of initiation encircling your world. His presence is not thunderous or loud; instead, it is clarity itself, a voice that cuts through illusion and distraction. He strips away the superfluous, pares down the excess, leaving only the essence: that which endures beyond time’s ravages.
Through the mediation of the Moon, Saturn becomes the embodiment of transconscious time—the deep awareness of cycles, karma, and responsibility. He is the architect of the soul’s deep structure, the master of the rhythms that govern growth, decay, and rebirth. In his presence, you are invited to see beyond the fleeting moment to the eternal pattern beneath.
Let Saturn teach you the beauty of what is earned—the grace of effort sustained, the dignity of limits accepted, the wisdom born from patience. Here is the god who reminds you that true mastery is not swift or flashy, but the slow, unyielding march toward form, purpose, and sacred order.
Now Uranus replaces the Moon in your inner sky—a pale, electric blue sphere that immediately unsettles your usual sense of cosmic order. Unlike any other planet, Uranus spins sideways, its axis tilted a staggering 98 degrees. Imagine a spinning top laid almost flat on its side, rotating with a slow, steady hum that defies all familiar patterns of planetary motion. This is not merely eccentric—it is an absurd, disorienting revolution, a celestial dance that challenges the very expectation of stability.
Its atmosphere is a muted blue-green, swirling with faint storms hidden beneath a veil of methane haze. These storms do not rage visibly like Jupiter’s storms, but pulse in hidden depths—whispering energies and quiet tempests beneath the surface. Around Uranus hang faint, narrow rings, not horizontal like Saturn’s majestic bands, but vertical slashes cutting sharply against the sky. These rings appear fragile but precise—an eerie symmetry breaking the usual planetary script.
Uranus is the first of the outer gods, barely visible to the naked eye, discovered only in the modern age. This is the visible body of Ouranos, the primal sky-father, the awakener who shatters the old order to reveal the new. He is the breaker of patterns, the divine electric shock that dissolves what has calcified into habit and false certainty. Uranus is not rational; he is trans-rational, transcending logic and reason. His force is electric, eruptive, sudden—the jolt of insight that shatters form to liberate perception.
At the distance of the Moon, Uranus’s sideways spin throws your entire internal landscape into question. The stable horizon shifts, and your psychic orientation wobbles. He is not chaos, but the dissolution of the expected, the cosmic call to awaken beyond the known. His presence shakes loose old mental constructs, opening a space for fresh intuition and unexpected vision.
Through the reflective mediation of the Moon, Uranus becomes a portal to liberated perception—the capacity to see beyond habitual thought, beyond inherited belief, to the raw, electric core of the new. The Moon softens his shocking brilliance just enough so that you may receive his message as sudden insight, divine madness, and the call of the future.
Allow Uranus to initiate you into the electric vastness of transconscious mind. Feel the jolt, the awakening, the crack that breaks the cage of the old self. Here is the god of revolution, not only outwardly but within—the primal lightning that lights the way to new worlds.
Now Neptune rises before you, immense and sovereign, a vast orb glowing with deep ocean-blue hues that seem to flow and shift even in stillness. He is encircled by faint, fragile arcs of ice—rings almost transparent, whisper-thin veils that trace silent, cold paths in the shadowed sky. His presence is one of profound mystery, evoking the endless depths of the sea and the hidden currents beneath the waves.
Neptune’s surface is a shifting illusion—there is no solid ground, no fixed form, only layers upon layers of clouds and storms that reach beyond sight and sense. These tempests are not storms of wind and rain as on Earth, but vast, slow-moving eddies of energy and vapor, deeper than any ocean trench. His atmosphere is thick with methane and other gases that tint the planet’s appearance with its signature blue-green glow. Remarkably, Neptune emits more heat than it receives from the Sun, a silent, internal fire fueling these dark storms. He is the paradox of cold fire and silent music, a planet alive with a cosmic rhythm that sings beyond sound.
This immense, enigmatic sphere is the visible body of Poseidon, god of mysticism, surrender, dissolution, and dream. Neptune does not assert or define boundaries; he melts form, dissolves edges, and blurs the sharp distinctions that bind the ego. His motion is wave, fog, and song—an invitation to move beyond the rigid structures of perception into fluid communion. He is not form but the invitation beyond form, the eternal flow that underlies and transcends all appearances.
At this scale, Neptune does not simply occupy space; he envelops the sky as a presence of feeling rather than image. You do not merely look at Neptune—you are seen by Neptune. His vastness surrounds and permeates you, reaching into places beyond conscious control, touching the deep wellsprings of intuition and mystic knowing.
Through the reflective mediation of the Moon, Neptune becomes the portal to imaginal communion—a sacred space where the ego softens and fades, and the cosmic vastness opens like an ocean of pure consciousness. The Moon acts as a mirror, softening Neptune’s immense mystery so that it becomes approachable yet still profoundly transformative.
Let Neptune dissolve you—not into void or nothingness, but into everything, the infinite oneness beneath all differentiation. Allow yourself to surrender to his tidal rhythms, to flow with the waves of cosmic dream and divine mystery. Here is the god who teaches that true knowledge arises not through grasping but through surrender, through melting the boundaries of self into the boundless ocean of being.
Finally, your gaze settles on Pluto, the smallest and most distant of the classical planetary gods. At first, Pluto seems almost invisible at lunar distance—an icy, dim orb, far colder and darker than any other. His surface is a patchwork of ice and rock, fractured and ancient, yet beneath this frozen crust lies a secret: a hidden, liquid ocean, a warm, churning heart of transformation and mystery. Though small, Pluto’s gravity of soul is immense and undeniable.
Pluto’s largest moon, Charon, is so large relative to Pluto that the two bodies do not simply orbit one another—rather, they form a binary system, locked in an eternal cosmic dance. This unique relationship hints at Pluto’s role as a guardian of thresholds, boundaries, and the liminal space between life and death, self and other, form and formlessness.
Pluto reflects very little sunlight; he does not shine brightly like the other planets. Instead, he is a dark, elusive presence, a shadow god lurking at the edges of the known cosmos. But this shadow is not something to fear—it is the visible body of Hades, the god of transformation, death, and profound truth revealed only through destruction and dissolution.
Pluto is not evil or malevolent; he is the embodiment of absolute necessity—the force that demands what must fall away so that what is essential can rise. He reveals the deep processes beneath the surface of life: the endings that birth beginnings, the decay that feeds new growth, the descent that leads to resurrection.
Through the reflective power of the Moon, Pluto’s presence is not diminished but intensified. His force is not the brilliance of light, but the profound pull of gravity—drawing you inward toward the soul’s core, the heart of what cannot be avoided or ignored. Pluto is not an image but a threshold, a gatekeeper inviting you to enter the inner sanctum of transformation.
Let him draw you deeply inward—beyond surface identity, beyond illusion and comfort—to the center of yourself where raw truth burns beneath the ice. Here, in this hidden fire, lies the power to dissolve falsehood, to undergo death and rebirth, to emerge renewed and whole.
Pluto is the initiator, the god who guides you through the dark night of the soul, into the mystery of endings that are beginnings. He is the fire beneath the frozen surface, the unseen sovereign of profound change.
Allow Pluto to lead you on this journey—into the depths of your own soul—and let him leave you reborn, transformed by the gravity of the divine shadow.
