Return to the One (26 page)

Bhagavan Ramana, an Indian sage, says it simply: “If the idea ‘I am the body’ is accepted, the selves are multiple.”
⁷

Our return to the One is nothing but a return to ourselves. When a soul becomes a single being rather than many, the One is near. Pierre Hadot says, “Being present to yourself is in fact being present to the universal being, to the totality in which all beings commune…. To be present to the self, to be conscious of the real self, is thus to be present to God.”
⁸

Image Is Illusion

A
SOFT DRINK
advertisement offers the “real thing.” An ad for mustard intones, “Accept no substitutes.” If these companies wanted Plotinus’s endorsement of their messages (not their products), I’m quite sure he would give it.

For the quest of the mystic philosopher is to know reality as it is, not as it seems to be. He or she cannot be content with anything other than the absolute truth. Just as a material scientist delves ever deeper into physical reality, seeking to lay bare what lies beneath appearances, so does the spiritual scientist.

What differentiates a physicist and a mystic isn’t their common search for objective knowledge but the sort of truth being sought. One looks without, one within. Plotinus’s inner experiences led him to confirm a central tenet of Greek philosophy: that truth, beauty, and goodness are manifestations of a single ultimate reality that may be called the One, or God, but is far beyond name and form.

Spirit is the first emanation of the One, which makes it ultimate reality once-removed. Soul comes next and so is twice-removed. This physical universe, the lowest aspect of the Soul of the All, thus is a reflection of a reflection. The seamless unity of the One becomes the multitude of forms contained within the one-many of spirit, which then are projected by soul onto the empty reflecting surface of matter.

Here we are, then, hapless humans wandering around the world looking for truth, beauty, goodness, and love in all the wrong places.

But we, because we are not accustomed to see any of the things within and do not know them, pursue the external and do not know that it is that within which moves us: as if someone looking at his image and not knowing where it came from should pursue it.
[V-8-2]

The physical universe is a most imperfect reflection of higher immaterial realities. And we ourselves are part of this illusory materiality, for our bodies are a mixture of insubstantial matter and substantial form. So what I’m able to sense of the physical me is nothing but smoke and mirrors, a falsity made out of falsehood, and the same is true for you.

It is as if, the visible Socrates being a man, his painted picture, being colors and painter’s stuff, was called Socrates; in the same way, therefore, since there is a rational form according to which Socrates is, the perceptible Socrates should not rightly be said to be Socrates, but colors and shapes which are representations of those in the form.
[VI-3-15]

Practically speaking, of course, I can’t go around introducing myself with Plotinian exactitude: “Hello, I’m Brian, a fleshly shape serving, for the moment, as a representation of the true Form of Brian in the spiritual world. Glad to meet you.”

Some of my conversations might be more interesting if I did this but most probably would end rather abruptly. After all, it generally isn’t socially acceptable to tell people that what we’re living isn’t really life. Plotinus, though, isn’t shy about saying so and within ourselves, even if this isn’t expressed without, we should realize the difference between our shadow and our substance.

We all want to be happy and most people also want to be good, to be truthful, to be loving, to be kind. But what a handicap each of us labors under: the physical self is barely being; it hardly
is
at all. So it isn’t surprising that we fail to achieve well-being, what with all the attention we give to bodies that are a shadow of being. As was noted before, it’s impossible to have genuine well-being without a firm foundation of being.

This is so easy to say but so difficult to take to heart. Philosophical verities and spiritual proverbs spring lightly from our lips while we continue to act as if we believe in the reality of illusion. Plotinus, like many other mystics, isn’t out to scare us into living our spirituality with as much vigor as we profess it, but he points out that those who cling to images will have no support, either now or at the time of death.

For if a man runs to the image and wants to seize it as if it was the reality …
[he will]
sink down into the dark depths where intellect has no delight, and stay blind in Hades, consorting with shadows there and here.
[I-6-8]

Strong words. But those wearing blinders who believe they can see need to be shaken out of their complacency. The problem is that we’re immersed so totally in a mirage. Plotinus says that nothing made of matter—nothing—possesses any substantial truth at all. No holy book; no sacred shrine; no revered person; no time-honored ritual.

Matter is merely a mirror that reflects a terribly indistinct image of the spiritual forms and nothing at all of the ineffable One. We should laugh at the pretentiousness of all things physical including our own bodily selves.

Whenever announcement it
[matter]
makes, therefore, is a lie, and if it appears great, it is small, if more, it is less; its apparent being is not real, but a sort of fleeting frivolity; hence, the things which seem to come to be in it are frivolities, nothing but phantoms in a phantom, like something in a mirror which really exists in one place but is reflected in another.
[III-6-7]

Spirituality isn’t a question of going to the right place of worship or reading the right book or doing the right things. Church or mosque? Bible or Koran? Pray facing in a certain direction or not? For Plotinus, these sorts of outward physical choices amount to deciding which mirage you like best. To a true seeker, that is immaterial because what is sought has nothing to do with matter and everything to do with spirit.

Imagine that you have become mesmerized by your reflection in a mirror and now believe that this image is your true self. On your own or with the help of another person, you could come to realize the nature of the spell, pick up a heavy object, and break the glass. No glass, no reflection. No reflection, no image. Alternatively, you could get up the gumption to simply walk away from the mirror. In either case, when you continued to exist apart from the image, the reflection’s unreality would be revealed.

But how do we smash matter? Who has the power to obliterate all of materiality? Further, says Plotinus, we can’t even see matter for matter is empty of form. It is merely a nothingness that reflects the images of reality emanating from the Soul of the All. There is no background, so to speak, against which the illusion of the physical universe can be discerned. A mirror, on the other hand, has a frame that delimits the boundaries of the reflection and a visible reflecting surface. It is easy to realize that what is reflected in the mirror exists apart from its image.

By contrast, this earthly illusion is seamlessly complete. Presently all that we are, all that we do, and all that we think about is part of the image, not the reality. We can’t see the trickster, matter, because it is nowhere to be seen.

So in this way the images in mirrors are not believed or are less believed to be real, because that in which they are
[such as glass]
is seen, and it remains but they go away; but in matter, it itself is not seen either when it has the images or without them.
[III-6-13]

That said, it bears repeating that Plotinus is unfailingly positive about the physical world, notwithstanding its shadowy status.
Maya,
or illusion, may indeed be a trick played upon us unrealized souls but the Cosmic Magician is utterly good, with not a trace of maliciousness. Our universe is what it is, the final emanation from the One. It is a reflection, not the original.

We don’t expect that an image of an orange will be anywhere near as appealing as a real orange (if in a magazine, it will taste like paper, and won’t be juicy at all). But a faithful reproduction of reality, as is the material creation, will possess as many qualities of the original as the medium is able to express.

Matter, we might say, does the best it can to reflect the spiritual forms. But a copy impressed upon an imperfect material results in an imperfect image. It’s difficult for us to appreciate how utterly insubstantial the medium of matter is. The best analogy, perhaps, is with a mirror made of nothing. Because it is a mirror, forms are reflected in it. Yet because there is nothing for these forms to make an impression on, they leave no trace as they come and go, just like a physical mirror.

But Plato’s supposition does at least indicate as clearly as possible the impassibility of matter and the seeming presence in it of a kind of phantasms which are not really present.
[III-6-12]

When Plotinus says that matter is impassible he means that matter is incapable of being affected by the spiritual forms that shape it. Everything in our universe is created by the forms that emanate from spirit and are impressed upon matter by soul. The laws of nature, so often capable of expression in precise mathematical form, reflect the unsurpassed intelligence of their source. This wisdom appears in matter much as a reflection appears in a mirror.

However, there is a crucial difference between matter and a mirror: the reflecting surface of a mirror can be sensed because it is made of a combination of matter and form. Thus what is seen in a mirror are material forms appearing in a material form. Matter, on the other hand, isn’t one of the spiritual forms. Rather, it is an empty receptacle of form, a nearly-nothing that has the least amount of being of anything that is.

For if here below you took away the real beings
[forms]
, none of the things which we now see in the world perceived by the senses would ever at any time appear. Here, certainly, the mirror itself is seen, for it, too, is a form; but in the case of matter, since it is in no way a form, it is not itself seen…. So matter itself is not real.
[III-6-13, II-4-16]

Then is the physical world unreal? No, since it exists. But it lacks being.

Non-being here does not mean absolute non-being but only something other than being…. The whole world of sense is non-existent in this way, and also all sense-experience.
[I-8-3]

There is nothing permanent in the physical world. Everything is constantly becoming, not being. The forms come and go, leaving no trace on matter, like the shadow of a flying bird briefly appearing on the surface of a pond. And lest we think that all is shadows and seeming except for the cherished ideas and beliefs we carry about in our minds, Plotinus reminds us that thoughts also are things that have no substantial reality. They leave the pure consciousness of soul completely unaffected, just as the forms make no impact on matter.

But it is like what happens with opinions and mental pictures in the soul, which are not blended with it, but each one goes away again, as being what it is alone, carrying nothing off with it and leaving nothing behind, because it was not mixed with soul.
[III-6-15]

Some people claim that God can be found in the form of nature, or a person, perhaps even in the form of an idea or emotion. Plotinus answers that God, the One, has no form. So whatever can be perceived by either the senses or the mind is of something created, not the source of creation.

So then the image of the intelligible is not of its maker but of the things contained in the maker, which include man and every other living being
[VI-2-22]

Loving God by loving the creation is akin to loving people by loving what they make. It would be senseless for a carpenter’s spouse to caress what he or she makes—tables, chairs, and the like—rather than the carpenter. Still, if someone persists in wanting to worship a thing made of matter, Plotinus has a suggestion: Why not revere mirrors? For if what is seen in mirrors is real, then so is what appears in matter. But if reflected images lack the reality of what produces the image, then seek the original.

If, then, there really is something in mirrors, let there really be objects of sense in matter in the same way; but if there is not, but only appears to be something, then we must admit, too, that things only appear on matter, and make the reason for their appearance the existence of the real beings.
[III-6-13]

Suffering Is Separation

C
LEARLY THERE IS
a difference between happiness and suffering. But what produces this difference? Why do we smile when life brings us this and cry when life brings us that? As was noted previously about good and evil, pleasure and pain are easily distinguished but not so easily defined.

Examining everyday language helps us understand Plotinus’s philosophical perspective on suffering. In general, when we’re pleased we speak words of union. “I’m so happy that it’s all coming together.” “I’m totally immersed in this book.” “I’ve really gotten into a new hobby.” “I feel close to you right now.” “This talk narrowed the rift between us.”

Pain is almost always described in divisive terms. “I feel like I’m being torn into pieces.” “My life is falling apart.” “That was a cutting remark.” “It bothers me that we’re on opposite sides of the fence.” “You’ve broken my heart.”

Both pleasure and pain have something to do with physical or psychic distance. When we’re close to what we desire or love, we feel good. When we’re distant, we feel bad. Thus life is an endless process of moving toward some things and away from others. We’re attracted to what brings us closer to what we want and repelled by what distances us from our desires.

The root of both joy and suffering, then, is separation. What is truly one, says Plotinus, is sufficient to itself. It can neither gain by having anything added to it nor lose by having anything taken away.

For we must say that experiences of this kind
[pains and pleasures]
do not belong entirely to the soul, but to the qualified body and something common and composite. For when something is one, it is sufficient to itself.
[IV-4-18]

Having descended from the spiritual world, where soul was united with spirit, we now are divided in several respects. First, consciousness is composite. Part of soul’s awareness remains in touch with spirit while our conscious attention is occupied with affairs of the physical world. Hence we are split off from our own selves and have an incessant longing to become whole again.

Even our [particular] soul has not come down entirely, but something of it always remains within the Intelligible world.
[IV-8-8]
¹

So long as a person’s conscious attention is directed toward his physical body and the world out there while the unrealized higher part of his soul is subtly communing with spirit in here, his mood is bound to fluctuate. Happiness increases when someone is more one, and decreases when he or she is less one.

H.J. Blumenthal says, “It [the body] has entered into an unstable partnership with the higher. The result is fluctuation between greater and lesser unity. It is in terms of the frustration or realization of this wish for unity that Plotinus explains pain and pleasure.”
²

But when two things aspire to unity, since the unity which they have is an extraneous one, the origin of pain, it is reasonable to expect, lies in their not being permitted to be one.
[IV-4-18]

Love, which is nothing other than the pursuit of unity, results in a pain of separation before the bliss of union. When the soul aspires to unite with the One, or spirit, that bliss is fully capable of being realized. Thus the pain is temporary. However, when we love anything other than the One or spirit, it’s impossible to consummate our longing for union. For the immaterial soul can never unite with anything material, including thoughts of materiality. So the love we have for things, people, or ideas of this world is doomed to frustration.

Plotinus says that if two entities such as the soul and spirit have the same nature they can become one. Or at least nearly one. But if they have different natures, as is the case with matter and soul, then the better (soul) can only take a trace of the worse (matter). This results, he tells us, in “a communion with the other that is hazardous and insecure, always borne from one extreme to the other.”

So it
[soul]
swings up and down, and as it comes down it proclaims its pain, and as it goes up its longing for communion.
[IV-4-18]

The ups and downs of life will always be with us if we set our sights on worldly people and objects that can never be ours. Over and over again, we make the same mistake: believing that possessions, relationships, and achievements are what make us happy and pursuing those desires. The chase often is exhilarating. The promise of what awaits us at the end of the hunt keeps our juices flowing. We expend much time and energy to run down our quarry. And in the end? It fails to satisfy.

How could it? The soul longs to return to the One. We mistakenly try to assuage that longing with what is most distant from the One and most unlike the One: matter. Instead of realizing that we’re in a cave of illusion where nothing can bring us lasting satisfaction because nothing truly is, we set off on another pursuit of another desire. And then another after that. And another and another.

Try something different, says Plato. Stop chasing shadows.

So long as we are here in this world, we should see human life as it is: shadow people acting out shadow roles on a shadow stage. In his parable of the cave, Plato says that the wall holding the objects that cast shadows is “like the screen which marionette players have in front of them, over which they show the puppets.”
³
These “puppets,” which represent the immaterial spiritual forms, are not perceived directly in the physical world. We sense only the reflections of the forms that appear in the mirror of matter.

Thus when Plotinus calls us living toys he indicates that we wouldn’t take life so seriously if we realized how insubstantial this shadow show really is.

There is a Life full of multiplicity in the universe, and it creates and varies all things as it lives, and it cannot bear not to constantly produce beautiful and well-shaped living toys. The arms of men who attack each other—even though they are mortal, they fight in graceful order, as is done for fun in the Pyrrhic dances—go to show that all mankind’s serious concerns are only children’s games.
[III-2-15]
⁴

If we believe that we are only physical beings, then naturally we will be terribly concerned about what happens to our bodily selves. When the “toy” is injured or suffers some calamity, it will seem that we’re playing a losing game. However, even children can get out their toy soldiers or dolls and have them perform some drama, then put their playthings away, becoming themselves again. Similarly, each of us should try to recognize the difference between the outer roles being acted on this stage of life, and the inner soul that remains serenely detached from these petty goings-on.

Just like on a theater stage, that is how we must consider all murders and rapings and sackings of cities: these are all changes of scenery and costume, acted-out wailings and lamentations. In this world, in each event that happens to us in life, it is not the inner soul, but the outer shadow of a person which laments and grieves.
[III-2-15]
⁵

We lament and grieve because we are in touch only with the shadow of ourselves. Separated from our true nature, eternal soul, we have come to identify ourselves with what we are not, ephemeral separate bodies and personalities. It’s as if the actors in a play had become so immersed in the lives of their characters that they had come to forget they were acting.

“Bang!” Someone is shot and falls dead on the stage. Only crocodile tears are shed by the grieving survivors, for the lamenting is just part of the show. When the scene ends, the actor will return to life in the same way a soul survives the demise of its body. Plotinus doesn’t express much sympathy for those who suffer because he teaches that suffering is largely self-imposed. That is, the cause of suffering is forgetting who we truly are. Nothing prevents us from discarding the plaything, body, which is the root of all our pains.

Such are the acts
[lamenting and grieving]
of the person who knows only how to live the lower and outer life, and who does not know that in the midst of his tears, even when they are serious, he is playing children’s games. Serious matters should be taken seriously only by a person’s serious part; the rest of the person is a mere toy.

…
If you play with them and have a bad experience, at least realize that you have fallen into a children’s game, and take off the toy
[the body]
that you are wearing. Even if it is Socrates who is playing, he plays with the outer Socrates.
[III-2-15]
⁶

Still, Plotinus recognizes that the suffering that comes with living this lower life can be extreme. Intense physical or emotional pain can’t be easily wished away or shunted into a closed-off corner of consciousness. If a person’s soul has not yet disentangled itself from body, then the body’s experiences will continue to bring him sorrow or joy. Even the sage may become delirious or unconscious, Plotinus says, “as the result of drugs and some kinds of illness.” [I-4-5]

But this does not affect his or her well-being, for well-being is “possession of the true good.” [I-4-6] The soul that has united with spirit or the One
is
the Good, so can never lose it, no matter what happens to its physical body.

Fortunately, outer happenings have nothing to do with inner happiness. Strong winds of pain and suffering may scatter the embers of bodily consciousness but the inner flame of the soul always burns brightly.

As for his
[the sage’s]
own sufferings: when they are intense, he will bear them as long as he is able; but if they become too strong, they will carry him away. Nor will he be pitiable in his suffering, for his inner flame still burns as does the light within a lantern, though outside there rage the fierce winds of a winter storm.
[I-4-8]
⁷

The light in a lantern remains lit because it is separated from inclement conditions by panes of glass. So there is a difference between the sort of separation that causes suffering and the sort that results in an end to suffering. If someone’s attention has sunk deep into the physical world and lost touch with the undescended aspect of his soul that remains serenely in the spiritual realm, then he has separated himself from the source of bliss. This, obviously, leads to suffering.

But if his attention is turned away from the pleasures and pains of earthly life, then he is able to separate himself from matter and this leads to the end of suffering. Like a lantern light that illumines its surroundings but is unaffected by the weather outside, the soul now passes through the drama of life more as a detached spectator than as a passionate participant.

In order for the soul to separate herself from the body, perhaps it is necessary for her to gather herself up into herself from what, for her, corresponds to the places she has been in; at any rate, she must remain free of passions. As for inevitable pleasures, she must, in order not to be hindered, turn them into mere sensations: processes of healing and of relief from pain. Pain is to be eliminated, or, if this is impossible, is to be borne with gentleness, and diminished by not suffering along with it.
[I-2-5]
⁸

Plotinus reminds us that physical pain does not need to result in suffering, nor does physical pleasure need to result in joy. To the mystic philosopher every sort of sensual perception is simply that: a perception. He or she is aware of what the body is experiencing but this awareness isn’t converted into psychic distress or elation. It remains, as much as possible, on the bodily level so that the soul is not distracted from its business of returning to the One. For if our attention remains rooted in the physical what chance do we have of realizing the spiritual?

Many people, however, claim that while it might be praiseworthy for a person to have a Stoic attitude toward his own suffering, he should be moved by the suffering of others. Isn’t it a mark of humanness to feel someone else’s pain? Not to Plotinus.

If anyone says that it is our nature to feel pain at the misfortunes of our own people, he should know that this does not apply to everybody, and that it is the business of virtue to raise ordinary nature to a higher level, something better than most people are capable of.
[I-4-8]

Countless people have tried, and continue to try, to make this world a paradise that is free of suffering. None have succeeded and none ever will. A comparatively few people, Plotinus being one of them, have tried to teach humanity how suffering can be eliminated—not by changing the world, but by changing ourselves.