Authors: Brian Hines
F
LY FROM EVILS
. That’s the advice Plotinus, echoing Plato, just gave us. But this is a spiritual sort of flying that doesn’t require wings. For we won’t get away from evils by ascending to a mountain top or rocketing off to another planet. What we must fly from is our love affair with matter, particularly the matter that we wrongly believe to be us, our bodies.
How then is one to escape? Not by movement in place, Plato says, but by winning virtue and separating oneself from the body: for in this way one separates oneself from matter as well, since the man who lives in close connection with the body is also closely connected with matter.
[I-8-7]
But why does Plotinus consider matter, and by extension, the body, to be so malignant?
This seems to contradict his assertion that evil is emptiness, a deficiency of good. Matter certainly doesn’t seem to be empty. Rather, for most of us it is the bedrock of our lives, what can be relied on when all else fails. If we’ve had a bad day at work, the chocolate box is loyally waiting to comfort us when we get home. Family and friends may let us down but a walk on the beach or a stroll in the woods reassures us that nature’s companionship is never-failing.
To Plotinus, matter is alive and even divine in a certain sense, for it is the body of the Soul of the All. But since physical creation is the lowest manifestation of being there isn’t much good to be found in it. The universe is akin to the dregs at the bottom of a cup of coffee, almost totally drained of pleasing flavor.
Recall that the strong, clear essence of reality is spirit, the World of Forms. The spiritual realm is true being where all that could possibly exist does exist perfectly and eternally. Spirit, as we read earlier, “gives to the Soul of the All, and Soul gives from itself to the soul next after it.”
This last soul is what we call nature. Its product, the physical universe, may appear beautiful to our eyes but Plotinus cautions us that material reality is twice-removed from ultimate reality. Our world is the residue of the spiritual forms, which are greatly dimmed and weakened in the course of their transformative passage through the Soul of the All and nature.
Its
[the last soul’s]
product is a living being, but a very imperfect one, and one which finds its own life disgusting since it is the worst of living things, ill-conditioned and savage, made of inferior matter, a sort of sediment of the prior realities, bitter and embittering.
[II-3-17]
These words sound harsh but we need to clearly understand what Plotinus means by matter. He isn’t referring to all the objects we sense in the world, such as plants, clouds, rocks, and water, nor is he even talking about the unseen chemical elements that make up everything material. For all of these manifestations of matter possess some form. And since forms come from the spiritual world, the World of Forms, material forms are the manifestation of spirit here on earth.
What is truly malignant to Plotinus is primordial matter, matter completely emptied of form. We can’t perceive this variety of matter, for it is devoid of any quality that could be sensed. It is not a body, because a body is matter shaped by form. So matter is immaterial, barely existent.
Hard to believe? Consider these findings of modern science.
The familiar objects of everyday life are almost entirely empty space. If a hydrogen atom could be magnified until its nucleus was the size of a ping-pong ball, then its electron, as small as a grain of dust, would be whirling about some three hundred meters away. In a neutron star, matter is compacted down to its essence. If the sun became a neutron star, its radius would be seventy thousand times smaller than it is now, but its mass would be the same (a cubic inch of a neutron star has a mass of about a billion tons).
Thus when form is removed from physical matter a vanishingly small amount of sheer bulk is all that remains. Astronomer Frank Shu says, “A sugarcube of neutron-star stuffon Earth would weigh as much as all of humanity! This illustrates again how much of humanity is empty space.”
1
For matter has not even being—if it had it would by this means have a share in good…. Matter, then, is incorporeal, since body is posterior and a composite, and matter with something else produces body.
[I-8-5, III-6-7]
Perhaps this incorporeal undefined matter is what scientists are approaching as they delve ever deeper into the subatomic realm in their quest to discover the essence of physical existence. Atoms are found to be made of electrons, protons, and neutrons. Protons and neutrons are found to be made of quarks. And what are electrons and quarks made of? No one knows. But the answer may be “strings.”
According to physicist Brian Greene, string theory posits that the fundamental constituents of the universe are not point particles, but almost infinitely small one-dimensional filaments that vibrate to and fro: “All strings are absolutely identical. Differences between the particles arise because their respective strings undergo different resonant vibrational patterns.”
2
This emphasizes Plotinus’s teaching that primordial matter is as near to nothing as anything can be. For string theory holds that the ultimate essence of all sub-atomic particles is identical, a sameness broken only by varying vibrations that produce different patterns (or forms).
To Plotinus the form is what is important, not the medium of matter that transmits a semblance of the incorporeal spiritual forms to the physical realm. It’s rather like when I have a grand insight about something, “Ah, now I understand,” and then I try to describe my revelation to someone else. To communicate, words are necessary, but inadequate. Once we get beyond the simplest messages, the form of what is said outwardly is always less than the form of what is known inwardly.
This is the pitfall of matter. It diffuses and dims spiritual forms that in reality are unified and bright.
Matter darkens the illumination, the light from that source, by mixture with itself.
[I-8-14]
The problem, it seems, is that physical matter is always empty, a void that can be covered over by a semblance of form but never is filled. This is why Plotinus tells us that matter’s nature is contrary to form. When form mixes with matter, it isn’t truly combined, as when milk and honey are put into a blender and a sweet drink is made. Instead, form and matter are akin to water and oil; they lie next to each other and on the surface seem to be one substance but actually remain separate.
By contrast, Plotinus speaks of divine matter in the spiritual, or intelligible, world that does take on the light and life of forms.
So those who say that matter is substance must be considered to be speaking correctly if they are speaking of matter in the intelligible world. For that which underlies form There is substance, or rather, considered along with the form imposed upon it, it makes a whole which is illuminated substance.
[II-4-5]
The danger of descending into materiality is that we will be dazzled by the insubstantial wrappings that cover the deadness of matter. These wrappings, images of the spiritual forms, are undeniably attractive. But they are akin to the reflection in a mirror of a beautiful person. The image may be beguiling, yet when we reach out to it we find there really is nothing that can be grasped, just photons shimmering upon an empty surface.
So it
[matter]
is actually a phantasm: so it is actually a falsity.
[II-5-5]
Matter, says Plotinus, is like reflective glass. There is nothing in it but the spiritual forms, which come from elsewhere. Take away these forms and what remains is utter emptiness. This is not the formlessness of the One, for the One is formless because of a surfeit, not a deficiency; since it is all things, it cannot take on the limiting form of any particular thing. No, the formlessness of matter is complete absence of form; since it is no thing, it is capable of reflecting the image of any form.
The fullness of the One reaches its utter contrary in the emptiness of matter. Since the One is absolute Good, matter is absolute non-Good, which is what Plotinus considers evil to be.
Anything which lacks something, but has something else, might perhaps hold a middle position between good and evil, if its lack and its having more or less balance; but that which has nothing because it is in want, or rather is want, must necessarily be evil.
[II-4-16]
The soul yearns to reunite with the spiritual forms: virtue, beauty, strength, and so on. However, this is possible only when the soul returns to the immaterial world of spirit, for here on Earth we sense only the shadows of spiritual substance. So long as we are enthralled by material people and things we will remain separate from spirit. As John Dillon explains, “Essentially, matter throws up a screen of attractive illusion, which the soul must see through, and evil is its not being able to do that.”
3
Matter is particularly malignant because, like cancer, it masquerades as something normal, even something good. Just as cancer cells are unrecognized by the body as malevolent and stealthily take over more and more of a person’s energy, so does materiality generally capture an increasing share of the soul’s care and attention. This happens quietly and naturally, an unnoticed sleight of hand that nevertheless results in the theft of our spirituality.
But because of the power and nature of good, evil is not only evil; since it must necessarily appear, it is bound in a sort of beautiful fetters, as some prisoners are in chains of gold.
[I-8-15]
We need to look beyond the attractive glitter of the physical world and consider what it would be like to be freed from matter entirely. Isn’t it true that we spend almost all of our time dealing with problems that wouldn’t exist, and desires that wouldn’t arise, if our souls weren’t connected to bodies?
But if one considers that things external to the soul are evils, illness or poverty for instance, how will one trace them back to the nature of matter? Illness is defect and excess of material bodies which do not keep order and measure; ugliness is matter not mastered by form; poverty is lack and deprivation of things which we need because of the matter with which we are coupled, whose very nature is to be need.
[I-8-5]
If we’re ill and want a lasting cure rather than merely symptomatic relief, it’s important to properly diagnose the cause of our suffering and get to the root of the problem. That is just what Plotinus does in the intriguing preceding passage, which deserves careful consideration.
Soul, he implies, has no share in evil. Evil is absence of good, and the pure soul has no such deficiency. Being essentially identical with spirit, every soul contains all of the forms that comprise creation. Each of us is a spiritual world and the spiritual world is within each of us. So how is it that we continually feel we are lacking something?
The cause of this perpetual neediness is that whatever is external to the soul will be less than soul. So when we turn to matter we aren’t making deposits to our happiness accounts, we’re actually making withdrawals.
The soul is never sick. It is the body that falls ill because the order that keeps it healthy is precarious, a house of cards that collapses at the slightest tremor of disease or trauma.
The soul is never ugly. Ugliness is an insufficiency of form, much more a spiritual defect than a physical lack that can be rectified by a plastic surgeon or a cosmetic makeover.
The soul is never poor. Poverty is caused by the soul’s descent into materiality, for the physical body needs food, shelter and clothing to survive. Without enough of these so-called material goods we feel impoverished, since we no longer enjoy a carefree and bodiless spiritual life.
Matter is the cause of most, if not all, of our problems. Failing to realize this, we turn to material things and bodily forms in fruitless attempts to resolve those problems. Fruitless because a void cannot be filled by nothingness; hunger cannot be assuaged by an empty plate. Since matter is a barrier, not a bridge, to well-being, it is foolish to expect that the people and objects of this world will bring us any sort of lasting happiness. The cure to our troubles will not be found in what is producing our distressed condition.
We need to separate from matter and cleave to spirit. In that union, not the soul’s present marriage with materiality, will be found the peace and bliss we long for.
“This is the life of the gods,” without sorrow and blessed; evil is nowhere here.
[I-8-2]
L
OOKING BACK
, it probably was a mistake for me to adopt the critter. I’ll tell you, caring for him is exhausting, almost a full-time job.
Morning, noon, and night he’s got to be fed. If I forget one of his meals he gets cranky and pesters me until his stomach is full. That keeps him quiet for a while but soon he’s bothering me again because he needs to go to the bathroom and get rid of what I just gave him. Okay, I take care of that and finally I figure I’ve got some time to myself. Wrong!
Now he wants some exercise because he’s an energetic animal. So we go off to the park for a jog. Everything is running along smoothly until he notices a female of breeding age. Then I’ve got all I can do to hold him back from making a nuisance of himself. Thank heavens he’s leash-trained. Sometimes he’s come close to getting in a fight with another animal and I worry about what might happen if I lost control of him.
To be honest, he’s most pleasant to be around when he’s sleeping. Other times, it’s just one demand after another, an almost constant yapping and whining for something or another: Feed me! Play with me! Groom me! Take me for a walk! Let’s go in the car! I need to go potty! And it’s not as if he comes free. I pay a lot for the privilege of keeping this nuisance. His food isn’t cheap; we’ve had to take lots of training classes together; his health care is expensive and will get even more costly as the years go by.
You might be wondering why, if he’s so difficult to take care of, I don’t find another home for him. Well, as bothersome as he is, it’s not easy to make a break with someone you’ve been close to for so long, especially when that someone is yourself—or, more precisely, my own body. It’s difficult to separate the two, the bodiless me and the bodily me, so for now we’re involved in this strange relationship I’ve described.
For every man is double, one of him is the sort of compound being and one of him is himself…. So “we” is used in two senses, either including the beast or referring to that which even in our present life transcends it. The beast is the body which has been given life. But the true man is different, clear of these affections.
[II-3-9, I-1-10]
It sounds strange to have the body called a beast. Yet there is no doubt that we are animals. All of our gross bodily functions and activities—eating, drinking, digesting, defecating and urinating, mating, and so on—are shared by other mammals. However, humans also possess an intelligence other animals lack and it is this quality of the soul that makes it possible for us to be “clear of these affections” if we use our reason and intuition rightly.
It is natural, says Plotinus, for the soul to be the alpha in its relationship with the beast. Soul, whether the Soul of the All or individual souls, should care for the body, not be controlled by the body. Then the soul, so to speak, is top dog and can enjoy the best of both the material and spiritual worlds.
Unfortunately, most of us have fallen into a dysfunctional relationship with our bodies. We’ve allowed the beast to get the upper hand and even though it seems like we’re in control of the creature, the body actually is calling the shots (cat owners, especially, can relate to this).
Just consider how much of our day is devoted to meeting bodily needs. We shop for food, then have to cook and eat it. The body must be cleansed, clothed, groomed, and exercised. Sexual drives lead to dating, marriage, and child raising. We must find the time and money to keep up homes that are basically elaborate dens to comfortably house the beast.
Soul enlivens the body but the body can deaden the soul with all the care it requires. When soul entered into a partnership with body, Plotinus tells us that the advantages accrued to the material partner.
Let us assume, then, that there is a mixture
[of soul and body].
But, if this is so, the worse element, the body, will be improved and the other element, the soul, will be made worse.
[I-1-4]
A person’s true self is soul. Soul is the essence of his identity, the core of his consciousness. In its bodiless state, soul is free to enjoy the delights of the spiritual forms or the ineffable wonder of the One. There, soul is united with universal order. It is a drop in an ocean of spirituality, an instrument playing in harmony with the cosmic symphony. This is freedom, the freedom to know and love reality as it truly is, as a part of the whole that lies beyond the illusory divisions of materiality.
When a soul descends into physical existence and attaches itself to a body, it enters the realm of many. Here, far from the One, what remains of primal unity is interconnectedness, lawful relationships, give and take, cause and effect. Natural consequences now constrain the soul’s freedom of action. For while we may be free to act, we aren’t free to avoid the results of our actions.
Now when the soul is without body it is in absolute control of itself and free, and outside the causation of the physical universe; but when it is brought into body it is no longer in all ways in control, as it forms part of an order with other things.
[III-1-8]
Recall Plotinus’s teaching that the physical universe is the body of the Soul of the All. Since human bodies are part of the physical universe this means that there is an overlap between the particular body being cared for by an individual soul and the universal body, the universe, being cared for by the Soul of the All. When the locus of control is in doubt the universal triumphs over the individual. Or we might say, “man proposes, and God disposes.”
To believe that we can control the world, a small part of the world, or even just our own bodies, is to be ignorant of the interconnectedness and impermanence of physical reality. The mystic philosopher recognizes that the body will be troublesome only if we allow ourselves to be unduly bothered by its desires and cravings, its pleasures and pains, its joys and sorrows. Just as a pet owner isn’t hurt if his animal breaks a leg, so should the sage view his own body in a similarly detached manner.
For as there are two reasons why the soul’s fellowship with body is displeasing, that body becomes a hindrance to thought and that it fills the soul with pleasures, desires, and griefs, neither of these things could happen to a soul which has not sunk into the interior of its body, and is not anyone’s property, and does not belong to the body, but the body belongs to it, and is of such a kind as to want nothing and be defective in nothing.
[IV-8-2]
We might do well to imagine that our bodies are wearing collars with ID tags that read: “My name is Matter. I belong to Soul.” If we can have the attitude that we possess and control our bodies instead of our bodies possessing and controlling us, then we will go through life much more contentedly. After all, if a person’s dog or cat gets sick, runs away, or dies, he or she is able to go on living a human life. Similarly, Plotinus teaches that the immaterial soul is unaffected by material experiences whether these be tribulations or triumphs.
Why, then, is a person’s sense of well-being influenced so much by what happens to his or her body? A bad case of the flu leaves us feeling listless; after a relaxing massage, all is right with the world. This is, says Plotinus, a result of being asleep and dreaming that we are our bodies. This waking dream, of course, seems fully real, but so can the dreaming that occurs when our eyes are closed. We’ve all had terrifying nightmares that were no less scary for being purely a product of our own brains, as well as glorious visions that were both delightful and imaginary.
Those who believe that what the senses tell them is real, says Plotinus, are dreaming. And they will be affected by their dreams, for good or ill, until they are able to wake up from the slumber of physical reality.
They act like people dreaming, who think that the things they see as real actually exist, when they are only dreams. For the activity of sense-perception is that of the soul asleep; for it is the part of the soul that is in the body that sleeps; but the true wakening is a true getting up from the body, not with the body.
[III-6-6]
The soul is a unity, formless and without parts, but its powers are many. When soul descends from the spiritual realm to the material world, some of its powers remain above while others are directed below. This creates a division in us. We generally are unconscious of our higher powers because our attention is focused almost entirely on our lower powers, such as sense-perception.
It
[soul]
happens to become divided in the sphere of bodies, though it was not affected in this way before it gave itself to bodies.
[IV-1-1]
Spiritual wakening occurs when soul is able to separate from body and be aware of all of its powers, not just those that can be exercised in concert with a physical frame.
We then will realize the true relationship of soul and body, which is poorly understood by even religiously-minded people. Soul commonly is considered to be some sort of mysterious life force that enters the body at birth and leaves it at death. Movies sometimes portray this as a small blob of light descending to or ascending from a person.
There may be some grain of truth in this imagery but Plotinus would challenge it on several counts. First, the soul cannot be seen with physical eyes so any sensory depiction will be misleading. Second, in truth the body is in the soul not the soul in body. Thus it is more accurate to say that the body enters and leaves the soul when we are born and die.
Dominic O’Meara says, “Plotinus asks us to reverse our normal way of thinking. We should not think of soul as being somehow ‘in’ body…. Such is the relation between soul and body that we should try rather to conceive of body as being ‘in’ soul, in the sense that it depends entirely for its organization and life on soul.”
1
But if the soul was visible and perceptible, in every way surrounded by life and extending equally to all the extremities [of the body], we should not have said that the soul was in the body, but that the unimportant was in the more important, and what is held together in what holds it together, and that which flows away in that which does not.
[IV-3-20]
What a carefree life we would enjoy if we could only take this message to heart. The body that flows away gradually through aging, then suddenly at death, is so much less important than what remains, soul. There really is nothing to worry about when the body falls ill, grows infirm, and loses its youthful vim and vigor.
What is changing and failing is not us. The body is merely a material mirror. It reflects spiritual forms so long as this dreamlike projection is energized by the Soul of the All and the individual soul attached to that body. Why cry and wail when a cinema show is over? Just leave the theatre and do something else.
For without body the soul is wholly in the intelligible world.
[IV-5-1]
Soul’s production of “My Life” had a beginning and it will have an end. When the prop of the body is no longer needed it is laid aside. This is cause more for rejoicing than despair since the play of life won’t have a happy ending until the soul stops acting its illusory part on this worldly stage.
The sage will care for his earthly self and put up with it as long as he can, as a musician does with his lyre, as long as it is still serviceable. When it is not, he will exchange it for another, or else he will abandon his lyre and will give up playing on the lyre altogether, since he now has another task to perform, without a lyre.
He will leave it lying next to him and keep on singing, now without an instrument. Yet it was not in vain that the instrument was given to him in the first place, for he has played on it many a time.
[I-4-16]
2
Here is a wonderful encapsulation of Plotinus’s attitude toward the physical body, one’s earthly self. So long as the body is a useful instrument in our search for truth we should take good care of it. After all, there are some spiritual advantages that come with living on the material plane. Because we are so far from the highest good the soul has an intense longing to return to the One, in much the same fashion as bitter cold makes us desperate to find a warm fire.
When the body wears out or no longer serves its purpose the soul takes one of two directions. It either exchanges one body for another, reincarnation, or it exists without a body, the preferable state of affairs. It is possible, Plotinus tells us, to sing life’s song without the accompaniment of a body. Here on Earth we need that physical instrument to be in tune with the crude conditions of materiality. But in the higher realms, the soul sings “a cappella” in harmony with spirit and the One.