I Turn My Room Into A Cube of Space

Hello, and welcome to this episode of Cribs, where I turn my room into a Cube of Space.

What is a Cube of Space? It’s a concept popularized by Paul Foster Case, the 20th century occultist and founder of Builders of the Adytum (or B.O.T.A.). Case took his inspiration from the Sepher Yetzirah, the Kabbalistic Book of Formation, and in his model, the faces, angles and axes of a cube are assigned a letter of the Hebrew aleph bet. This letter further corresponds to a number and an elemental, planetary or zodiacal sign, which in turn, can be paired with a tarot attribution, a path on the tree of life, or a Sephirot. The list goes on. Within this framework, spatial orientation becomes a way to deepen magical muscle memory by communing with hermetic principles, or entertaining theurgical practices, as you like it.

So last week, I woke up and realized my bedroom was very nearly cube-ular (not a word), which means it would be a simple enough task to map the Cube of Space onto it by placing the letters in their proper designations.

Some of you might be asking, “But why, Nyssa? Why did you do this?” And I would say, first of all, why not? Magical experimentation aside, I have a perfectly good room with walls and corners, just sitting there, with NO attributions of their own, which seems like a waste.

Second of all, the Cube of Space is a meditative principle. It’s the jumping off point for contemplating even more complex geometrical ideas, like the tesseract, which you can have hours of fun watching below. By sitting in the center of the Cube (which is now at the end of my bed), I can better visualize my own spiritual unfolding. I’m also lucky in that the walls of my room face the cardinal directions with relative accuracy, so the rising of the sun, for example, is in the “correct” place.

How DID I do it?

First you get your supplies. I used foam, adhesive glue dots, an exacto knife, and scissors. You can choose any size letter that you’d feel comfortable staring at for a length of time. (Fig.A) Print your aleph bet (two to be on the safe side, especially if you have a cat who likes to sit on your work), and laminate them. (As an optional bonus step, you can have a conversation with the nice guy at FedEx who is stoked that you’re studying Hebrew. Politely explain that the letter “he” is not pronounced like the “he” in He-man.)

Cut your planetary letters and use glue dots to adhere to wall faces. Next, use the foam and exacto to get your zodiacal letters all angular. (Figs. B, C, D) For the floor angles, I’m hovering the letters above the base board instead of placing them directly on the ground. This is for easier cleaning (also, the cat).

Next you make a janky weathervane out of wire onto which you’ll place the three mother letters. (Fig. D) To which you will say, “that looks horrible.” And I will counter with, “yes, it’s not my best work.” And you will say, “no, but really, it’s like you’ve never seen wire before, much less fashioned it into anything resembling a shape.” And I will say, “well that’s a bit harsh, but it’s only a prototype.”

Which is true. That’s why I’m also using foam. If this test produces positive results, I plan to fashion woodblocks to replace the laminated letters, but I am a renter, and this is the best way to spec out the idea before drilling holes anywhere.

The janky weathervane (which, fingers-crossed, will eventually be 3D printed) will hang from the light fixture that is roughly center-ceiling.

Finally, sit back and admire your weird creation. You now have a meditative space which you can use to build a memory palace.