everywhere in nature some of the divine light is shining. We can see it in all
living creatures; even a rose or a bluebell has its divine glow. Furthest away
from the living God are earth and water and stone.
I am saying that there is something of the divine mystery in everything
that exists. We can see it sparkle in a sunflower or a poppy. We sense more
of this unfathomable mystery in a butterfly that flutters from a twig—or in a
goldfish swimming in a bowl. But we are closest to God in our own soul. Only
there can we become one with the great mystery of life. In truth, at very rare
moments we can experience that we ourselves are that divine mystery.
Plotinus’s metaphor is rather like Plato’s myth of the cave: the closer we
get to the mouth of the cave, the closer we get to that which all existence
springs from. But in contrast to Plato’s clear two-fold reality, Plotinus’s
doctrine is characterized by an experience of wholeness. Everything is one—
for everything is God. Even the shadows deep down in Plato’s cave have a
faint glow of the One.
On rare occasions in his life, Plotinus experienced a fusion of his soul
with God. We usually call this a mystical experience. Plotinus is not alone in
having had such experiences. People have told of them at all times and in all
cultures. The details might be different, but the essential features are the
same. Let us take a look at some of these features.
Mysticism
A mystical experience is an experience of merging with God or the
“cosmic spirit.” Many religions emphasize the gulf between God and Creation,
but the mystic experiences no such gulf. He or she has experienced being
“one with God” or “merging” with Him.
The idea is that what we usually call “I” is not the true “I.” In short
glimpses we can experience an identification with a greater “I.” Some mystics
call it God, others call it the cosmic spirit, Nature, or the Universe. When the
fusion happens, the mystic feels that he is “losing himself”; he disappears into
God or is lost in God in the same way that a drop of water loses itself when it
merges with the sea. An Indian mystic once expressed it in this way: “When I
was, God was not. When God is, I am no more.” The Christian mystic Angelus
Silesius (1624-1677) put it another way: Every drop becomes the sea when it
flows oceanward, just as at last the soul ascends and thus becomes the Lord.
Now you might feel that it cannot be particularly pleasant to “lose
oneself.” I know what you mean. But the point is that what you lose is so very
much less than what you gain. You lose yourself only in the form you have at
the moment, but at the same time you realize that you are something much
bigger. You are the universe. In fact, you are the cosmic spirit itself, Sophie. It
is you who are God. If you have to lose yourself as Sophie Amundsen, you
can take comfort in the knowledge that this “everyday I” is something you will
lose one day anyway. Your real “I”— which you can only experience if you are
able to lose yourself—is, according to the mystics, like a mysterious fire that
goes on burning to all eternity.
But a mystical experience like this does not always come of itself. The
mystic may have to seek the path of “purification and enlightenment” to his
meeting with God. This path consists of the simple life and various meditation
techniques. Then all at once the mystic achieves his goal, and can exclaim, “I
am God” or “I am You.”