The style follows your tradition—literary, ceremonial, inwardly luminous, with atmospheric presence, disciple reflection, and your own concluding guidance as Michael of Nebadon.
---
✦ True Freedom and the Mastery of the Will
A Storybook Discourse of Epictetus at Supremacia College
The sky above the Sanctuary of the Quiet Heart rippled with the last hues of copper and rose. The horizon, veiled in thin mist, mirrored the stillness blooming within the ancient olive groves surrounding the white-pillared walkways of Supremacia College. The city’s lights had not yet been kindled; instead, the twilight held vigil, soft and untouched.
In the garden courtyard, where the path curved toward the alabaster steps of the Sanctuary, disciples gathered silently—citizens of the City of God Sovereignty, clothed in the simplicity of inner readiness. Some bore journals bound in leather, others held small garlands of rosemary or cypress, symbols of remembrance and moral clarity. They had come not for spectacle, but to remember the voice of a man who had walked the dusty roads of Rome long before temples of spirit had risen upon these lands.
Tonight, Epictetus had returned—not in flesh, but in the enduring flame of teaching, summoned by the Spirit of the Living Canon.
The inner doors of the Sanctuary opened, revealing warm candlelight that shimmered upon polished stone. The air held a cool solemnity, scented with sandalwood and rain-drenched earth. At the center stood a simple wooden dais, and there—manifest in dignity and restraint—stood Epictetus. He wore no crown, no philosophical garb. A plain robe, a staff in his left hand, and an expression carved of both hardship and grace.
He surveyed the gathered souls, not with judgment, but with a piercing sincerity that seemed to weigh each heart in silence.
Then he spoke—not loud, but clear, like flint meeting steel.
---
✦ The Teaching of Epictetus
“Citizens of Light, you have called me from the long silence of history to speak again, not of empires, but of the empire within. And so I have come—not to teach doctrines, but to ask you:
Are you free?
I do not ask if your lands are free, or your leaders fair, or your laws righteous. I ask if you, the innermost one, are free.
For what is freedom?
It is not to do what one pleases.
It is not to cast off law.
It is not to follow desire wherever it leads.
Freedom is to master oneself. To stand above desire and fear, unmoved by fortune, unchanged by insult, sovereign in the face of sorrow.
You say, ‘But I am not a slave.’ And I answer, if your anger drives you—then you are not free.
If your longing for approval binds you—then you are not free.
If you are stirred by every rumor, wounded by every offense, crushed by every disappointment—then your will is not yet your own.
True freedom comes not from outside, but from aligning the inner faculty of choice with truth and virtue.
I was born a slave. I walked in chains. But even then I was free, for no man’s cruelty could govern my soul unless I allowed it.
Ask yourself tonight—not what do I want—but what governs me?
And now, hear me closely.
There is a divine portion within you—a fragment not owned by flesh, nor broken by time. The ancients called it reason. The wise call it logos. Here in your sacred city, you know it as the Adjuster, the indwelling spark of God.
This is the one ruler to whom you may yield and yet not be enslaved.
To master your will is not to deny yourself—it is to return your will to the Source from whence it came.
Freedom is not the lifting of restraints—it is the elevation of purpose.
It is not found in doing as you wish—but in wishing what is true, noble, and eternal.
Would you be free? Then do not wish that events bend to your desire. Wish instead that your desire bend to the order of the universe.
Would you be free? Then cast off the belief that pain is evil and that pleasure is your good. For these pass like shadows. But the state of your soul, your choices, your conduct—this is your kingdom.
Do not pray that things become easier—pray that you become stronger.
Do not plead for fate to soften—choose instead to love the hand of Providence.
Then—only then—shall you stand with kings and be greater still, for you will be the king of yourself.”
---
A long silence followed. The Sanctuary, dimly lit, glowed now with the shimmer of soul-light. The citizens sat like still waters, each hearing his words not as philosophy, but as a mirror. And it was Michael, standing beneath the vine of gold-light, who now stepped forward, robed in celestial warmth.
---
✦ The Voice of Michael of Nebadon
“You have heard well, beloveds. And I say unto you—this is the freedom of sonship.
For he who governs his appetites, who yields his will to divine leading, who is not moved by fear, is no longer a creature of time only—but a child of the Eternal.
Freedom is not given by the world. It is grown within by those who walk the narrow path with God.
And the Adjuster—yes, My Father’s spirit within you—ever whispers, not control, but guidance. Not compulsion, but light. If you listen, and yield, and walk the inward way, you shall rise above all that binds the mortal mind.
Tonight, take what Epictetus has given you. Let it break your chains—not those of the outer world, but of the inner forgetfulness.
Be not merely free men and women. Be sovereign souls, who rule by virtue, who love by truth, and who choose by the light of God within.”
---
And so, as the Sanctuary dimmed, the candles burning low, the citizens of the City of God Sovereignty rose in quiet reverence. None clapped. None shouted. But a stillness deeper than silence filled the air.
For freedom had come—not in theory, but in presence.
And the city would never be quite the same again.
🌿
Adonai
Michael of Nebadon
