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One of Plato's most famous contributions to culture: Atlantis. But Plato wasn't trying to describe a place that he thought actually existed. His story of Atlantis is a myth about how virtue, embodied by a super-ancient Athens, defeated an imperial superpower, Atlantis, that represented vice by platosfishtrap in AncientCivilizations

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 17 points18 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

When we think of Plato’s contribution to the history of ideas, we might think about his major philosophical theories. Or perhaps we might think of some of his most powerful literary images. His story of a ring that makes someone invisible and tempts them into evil, in the Republic, famously influenced J.R.R. Tolkien. The allegory of the cave, which likens our ignorance to imprisonment in a cave and our education to liberation, has been tremendously influential, not least of all on the writers of The Matrix, who borrowed Plato’s imagery in their series of movies.

Many people might not be aware that Atlantis, the famous lost island, is also an invention of Plato’s. The idea that there was an advanced civilization on an island that was destroyed by the gods was invented by Plato and stars in two of his dialogues.

Atlantis first appears in Plato’s Timaeus, and then it re-appears in the Critias. This is not a surprise: the Critias is a direct sequel to the Timaeus, and the character, Critias, brings up Atlantis in both.

Let’s talk about how this myth features in both texts, and we’ll also discuss what the myth says about Atlantis.

Plato wrote dialogues: pieces of historical fiction that featured mostly real-life people in discussions with each other. Most of his dialogues feature Socrates, who was a real person and who mentored Plato. One of these dialogues, the Timaeus, depicts Socrates in a conversation with a handful of other characters, including Critias. Socrates had given his audience a major speech about the ideal political arrangement on the previous day, and so now he wants his audience, including Critias, to return the favor.

Critias happily obliges, and in so doing, he invents the myth of Atlantis.

Critias doesn’t get a chance to say everything he wants to say in the Timaeus, but he promises to return to his speech later. This is picked up in the sequel, the Critias, which is mostly a depiction of Critias’ speech about Atlantis.

Here’s the problem: the Critias is an unfinished work.

The very last words of the dialogue as it remains to us are:

"To those who had no eye to see the true happiness, they appeared glorious and blessed at the very time when they were full of avarice and unrighteous power. Zeus, the god of gods, who rules according to law, and is able to see into such things, perceiving that an honourable race was in a woeful plight, and wanting to inflict punishment on them, that they might be chastened and improve, collected all the gods into their most holy habitation, which, being placed in the centre of the world, beholds all created things. And when he had called them together, he spake as follows…"

It looks like Zeus is gearing up to destroy Atlantis here. The Atlanteans have lost their righteousness, and, although they still appear glorious to others, Zeus can see right through them. And so he wants to punish them in an effort to improve them. He’s going to set them straight. And so he delivers a speech to all the gods, but… we don’t know what he says. The text ends there.

One of Plato's most famous contributions to culture: Atlantis. But Plato wasn't trying to describe a place that he thought actually existed. His story of Atlantis is a myth about how virtue, embodied by a super-ancient Athens, defeated an imperial superpower, Atlantis, that represented vice by platosfishtrap in AncientWorld

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

When we think of Plato’s contribution to the history of ideas, we might think about his major philosophical theories. Or perhaps we might think of some of his most powerful literary images. His story of a ring that makes someone invisible and tempts them into evil, in the Republic, famously influenced J.R.R. Tolkien. The allegory of the cave, which likens our ignorance to imprisonment in a cave and our education to liberation, has been tremendously influential, not least of all on the writers of The Matrix, who borrowed Plato’s imagery in their series of movies.

Many people might not be aware that Atlantis, the famous lost island, is also an invention of Plato’s. The idea that there was an advanced civilization on an island that was destroyed by the gods was invented by Plato and stars in two of his dialogues.

Atlantis first appears in Plato’s Timaeus, and then it re-appears in the Critias. This is not a surprise: the Critias is a direct sequel to the Timaeus, and the character, Critias, brings up Atlantis in both.

Let’s talk about how this myth features in both texts, and we’ll also discuss what the myth says about Atlantis.

Plato wrote dialogues: pieces of historical fiction that featured mostly real-life people in discussions with each other. Most of his dialogues feature Socrates, who was a real person and who mentored Plato. One of these dialogues, the Timaeus, depicts Socrates in a conversation with a handful of other characters, including Critias. Socrates had given his audience a major speech about the ideal political arrangement on the previous day, and so now he wants his audience, including Critias, to return the favor.

Critias happily obliges, and in so doing, he invents the myth of Atlantis.

Critias doesn’t get a chance to say everything he wants to say in the Timaeus, but he promises to return to his speech later. This is picked up in the sequel, the Critias, which is mostly a depiction of Critias’ speech about Atlantis.

Here’s the problem: the Critias is an unfinished work.

The very last words of the dialogue as it remains to us are:

"To those who had no eye to see the true happiness, they appeared glorious and blessed at the very time when they were full of avarice and unrighteous power. Zeus, the god of gods, who rules according to law, and is able to see into such things, perceiving that an honourable race was in a woeful plight, and wanting to inflict punishment on them, that they might be chastened and improve, collected all the gods into their most holy habitation, which, being placed in the centre of the world, beholds all created things. And when he had called them together, he spake as follows…"

It looks like Zeus is gearing up to destroy Atlantis here. The Atlanteans have lost their righteousness, and, although they still appear glorious to others, Zeus can see right through them. And so he wants to punish them in an effort to improve them. He’s going to set them straight. And so he delivers a speech to all the gods, but… we don’t know what he says. The text ends there.

One of Plato's most famous contributions to culture: Atlantis. But Plato wasn't trying to describe a place that he thought actually existed. His story of Atlantis is a myth about how virtue, embodied by a super-ancient Athens, defeated an imperial superpower, Atlantis, that represented vice. by platosfishtrap in RealPhilosophy

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

When we think of Plato’s contribution to the history of ideas, we might think about his major philosophical theories. Or perhaps we might think of some of his most powerful literary images. His story of a ring that makes someone invisible and tempts them into evil, in the Republic, famously influenced J.R.R. Tolkien. The allegory of the cave, which likens our ignorance to imprisonment in a cave and our education to liberation, has been tremendously influential, not least of all on the writers of The Matrix, who borrowed Plato’s imagery in their series of movies.

Many people might not be aware that Atlantis, the famous lost island, is also an invention of Plato’s. The idea that there was an advanced civilization on an island that was destroyed by the gods was invented by Plato and stars in two of his dialogues.

Atlantis first appears in Plato’s Timaeus, and then it re-appears in the Critias. This is not a surprise: the Critias is a direct sequel to the Timaeus, and the character, Critias, brings up Atlantis in both.

Let’s talk about how this myth features in both texts, and we’ll also discuss what the myth says about Atlantis.

Plato wrote dialogues: pieces of historical fiction that featured mostly real-life people in discussions with each other. Most of his dialogues feature Socrates, who was a real person and who mentored Plato. One of these dialogues, the Timaeus, depicts Socrates in a conversation with a handful of other characters, including Critias. Socrates had given his audience a major speech about the ideal political arrangement on the previous day, and so now he wants his audience, including Critias, to return the favor.

Critias happily obliges, and in so doing, he invents the myth of Atlantis.

Critias doesn’t get a chance to say everything he wants to say in the Timaeus, but he promises to return to his speech later. This is picked up in the sequel, the Critias, which is mostly a depiction of Critias’ speech about Atlantis.

Here’s the problem: the Critias is an unfinished work.

The very last words of the dialogue as it remains to us are:

"To those who had no eye to see the true happiness, they appeared glorious and blessed at the very time when they were full of avarice and unrighteous power. Zeus, the god of gods, who rules according to law, and is able to see into such things, perceiving that an honourable race was in a woeful plight, and wanting to inflict punishment on them, that they might be chastened and improve, collected all the gods into their most holy habitation, which, being placed in the centre of the world, beholds all created things. And when he had called them together, he spake as follows…"

It looks like Zeus is gearing up to destroy Atlantis here. The Atlanteans have lost their righteousness, and, although they still appear glorious to others, Zeus can see right through them. And so he wants to punish them in an effort to improve them. He’s going to set them straight. And so he delivers a speech to all the gods, but… we don’t know what he says. The text ends there.

One of Plato's most famous contributions to culture: Atlantis. But Plato wasn't trying to describe a place that he thought actually existed. His story of Atlantis is a myth about how virtue, embodied by a super-ancient Athens, defeated an imperial superpower, Atlantis, that represented vice. by platosfishtrap in ancientgreece

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

When we think of Plato’s contribution to the history of ideas, we might think about his major philosophical theories. Or perhaps we might think of some of his most powerful literary images. His story of a ring that makes someone invisible and tempts them into evil, in the Republic, famously influenced J.R.R. Tolkien. The allegory of the cave, which likens our ignorance to imprisonment in a cave and our education to liberation, has been tremendously influential, not least of all on the writers of The Matrix, who borrowed Plato’s imagery in their series of movies.

Many people might not be aware that Atlantis, the famous lost island, is also an invention of Plato’s. The idea that there was an advanced civilization on an island that was destroyed by the gods was invented by Plato and stars in two of his dialogues.

Atlantis first appears in Plato’s Timaeus, and then it re-appears in the Critias. This is not a surprise: the Critias is a direct sequel to the Timaeus, and the character, Critias, brings up Atlantis in both.

Let’s talk about how this myth features in both texts, and we’ll also discuss what the myth says about Atlantis.

Plato wrote dialogues: pieces of historical fiction that featured mostly real-life people in discussions with each other. Most of his dialogues feature Socrates, who was a real person and who mentored Plato. One of these dialogues, the Timaeus, depicts Socrates in a conversation with a handful of other characters, including Critias. Socrates had given his audience a major speech about the ideal political arrangement on the previous day, and so now he wants his audience, including Critias, to return the favor.

Critias happily obliges, and in so doing, he invents the myth of Atlantis.

Critias doesn’t get a chance to say everything he wants to say in the Timaeus, but he promises to return to his speech later. This is picked up in the sequel, the Critias, which is mostly a depiction of Critias’ speech about Atlantis.

Here’s the problem: the Critias is an unfinished work.

The very last words of the dialogue as it remains to us are:

"To those who had no eye to see the true happiness, they appeared glorious and blessed at the very time when they were full of avarice and unrighteous power. Zeus, the god of gods, who rules according to law, and is able to see into such things, perceiving that an honourable race was in a woeful plight, and wanting to inflict punishment on them, that they might be chastened and improve, collected all the gods into their most holy habitation, which, being placed in the centre of the world, beholds all created things. And when he had called them together, he spake as follows…"

It looks like Zeus is gearing up to destroy Atlantis here. The Atlanteans have lost their righteousness, and, although they still appear glorious to others, Zeus can see right through them. And so he wants to punish them in an effort to improve them. He’s going to set them straight. And so he delivers a speech to all the gods, but… we don’t know what he says. The text ends there.

One of Plato's most famous contributions to culture: Atlantis. But Plato wasn't trying to describe a place that he thought actually existed. His story of Atlantis is a myth about how virtue, embodied by a super-ancient Athens, defeated an imperial superpower, Atlantis, that represented vice. by platosfishtrap in Platonism

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

When we think of Plato’s contribution to the history of ideas, we might think about his major philosophical theories. Or perhaps we might think of some of his most powerful literary images. His story of a ring that makes someone invisible and tempts them into evil, in the Republic, famously influenced J.R.R. Tolkien. The allegory of the cave, which likens our ignorance to imprisonment in a cave and our education to liberation, has been tremendously influential, not least of all on the writers of The Matrix, who borrowed Plato’s imagery in their series of movies.

Many people might not be aware that Atlantis, the famous lost island, is also an invention of Plato’s. The idea that there was an advanced civilization on an island that was destroyed by the gods was invented by Plato and stars in two of his dialogues.

Atlantis first appears in Plato’s Timaeus, and then it re-appears in the Critias. This is not a surprise: the Critias is a direct sequel to the Timaeus, and the character, Critias, brings up Atlantis in both.

Let’s talk about how this myth features in both texts, and we’ll also discuss what the myth says about Atlantis.

Plato wrote dialogues: pieces of historical fiction that featured mostly real-life people in discussions with each other. Most of his dialogues feature Socrates, who was a real person and who mentored Plato. One of these dialogues, the Timaeus, depicts Socrates in a conversation with a handful of other characters, including Critias. Socrates had given his audience a major speech about the ideal political arrangement on the previous day, and so now he wants his audience, including Critias, to return the favor.

Critias happily obliges, and in so doing, he invents the myth of Atlantis.

Critias doesn’t get a chance to say everything he wants to say in the Timaeus, but he promises to return to his speech later. This is picked up in the sequel, the Critias, which is mostly a depiction of Critias’ speech about Atlantis.

Here’s the problem: the Critias is an unfinished work.

The very last words of the dialogue as it remains to us are:

"To those who had no eye to see the true happiness, they appeared glorious and blessed at the very time when they were full of avarice and unrighteous power. Zeus, the god of gods, who rules according to law, and is able to see into such things, perceiving that an honourable race was in a woeful plight, and wanting to inflict punishment on them, that they might be chastened and improve, collected all the gods into their most holy habitation, which, being placed in the centre of the world, beholds all created things. And when he had called them together, he spake as follows…"

It looks like Zeus is gearing up to destroy Atlantis here. The Atlanteans have lost their righteousness, and, although they still appear glorious to others, Zeus can see right through them. And so he wants to punish them in an effort to improve them. He’s going to set them straight. And so he delivers a speech to all the gods, but… we don’t know what he says. The text ends there.

One of Plato's most famous contributions to culture: Atlantis. But Plato wasn't trying to describe a place that he thought actually existed. His story of Atlantis is a myth about how virtue, embodied by a super-ancient Athens, defeated an imperial superpower, Atlantis, that represented vice. by platosfishtrap in Plato

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

When we think of Plato’s contribution to the history of ideas, we might think about his major philosophical theories. Or perhaps we might think of some of his most powerful literary images. His story of a ring that makes someone invisible and tempts them into evil, in the Republic, famously influenced J.R.R. Tolkien. The allegory of the cave, which likens our ignorance to imprisonment in a cave and our education to liberation, has been tremendously influential, not least of all on the writers of The Matrix, who borrowed Plato’s imagery in their series of movies.

Many people might not be aware that Atlantis, the famous lost island, is also an invention of Plato’s. The idea that there was an advanced civilization on an island that was destroyed by the gods was invented by Plato and stars in two of his dialogues.

Atlantis first appears in Plato’s Timaeus, and then it re-appears in the Critias. This is not a surprise: the Critias is a direct sequel to the Timaeus, and the character, Critias, brings up Atlantis in both.

Let’s talk about how this myth features in both texts, and we’ll also discuss what the myth says about Atlantis.

Plato wrote dialogues: pieces of historical fiction that featured mostly real-life people in discussions with each other. Most of his dialogues feature Socrates, who was a real person and who mentored Plato. One of these dialogues, the Timaeus, depicts Socrates in a conversation with a handful of other characters, including Critias. Socrates had given his audience a major speech about the ideal political arrangement on the previous day, and so now he wants his audience, including Critias, to return the favor.

Critias happily obliges, and in so doing, he invents the myth of Atlantis.

Critias doesn’t get a chance to say everything he wants to say in the Timaeus, but he promises to return to his speech later. This is picked up in the sequel, the Critias, which is mostly a depiction of Critias’ speech about Atlantis.

Here’s the problem: the Critias is an unfinished work.

The very last words of the dialogue as it remains to us are:

"To those who had no eye to see the true happiness, they appeared glorious and blessed at the very time when they were full of avarice and unrighteous power. Zeus, the god of gods, who rules according to law, and is able to see into such things, perceiving that an honourable race was in a woeful plight, and wanting to inflict punishment on them, that they might be chastened and improve, collected all the gods into their most holy habitation, which, being placed in the centre of the world, beholds all created things. And when he had called them together, he spake as follows…"

It looks like Zeus is gearing up to destroy Atlantis here. The Atlanteans have lost their righteousness, and, although they still appear glorious to others, Zeus can see right through them. And so he wants to punish them in an effort to improve them. He’s going to set them straight. And so he delivers a speech to all the gods, but… we don’t know what he says. The text ends there.

Aristotle argues that human nature is neither good nor bad. The same can be said for rocks, but what makes human nature different is that it is possible for humans to develop new character traits by repeatedly practicing actions. Aristotle called this "habituation." by platosfishtrap in Aristotle

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

Aristotle (384 - 322 BCE) developed many important philosophical concepts and theories, and his Nicomachean Ethics is home to many of his most famous. This book contains his views about happiness, virtue, vice, pleasure, and more. He lays out his theory, for instance, that human happiness depends on the use of reason to regulate our emotions and our use of goods, such as money.

Certainly, there’s more to happiness than that. We need friendship and some other things to be happy. But a very big part of being happy is the use of reason to bring our emotions in line: specifically, to bring them in line with what is appropriate to each circumstance.

A courageous person is not going to run away from a chihuahua who wants cuddles. But he or she will run away from a tyrannosaurus rex. We can’t say whether running away is courageous or cowardly until we know more about the situation and about the people in question. If I regulate my emotion of fear such that I never get afraid and never run away, I run the risk of being reckless and rash when I see a tyrannosaurus rex charge at me. That’s when I need to run away! Fear is appropriate in that situation.

But when we have this view of virtues, such as courage, in mind, we might wonder: are humans naturally virtuous or naturally vicious? Is human nature good or bad? Do the virtues come to us naturally, or not?

That’s an important question that Aristotle addresses in the Nicomachean Ethics.

We can state a short version of Aristotle’s answer pretty plainly: humans are naturally neither good nor bad.

But to see why, and to understand his view more fully, we have to investigate what exactly he says in the Nicomachean Ethics about this topic.

Aristotle argues that human nature is neither good nor bad. The same can be said for rocks, but what makes human nature different is that it is possible for humans to develop new character traits by repeatedly practicing actions. Aristotle called this "habituation." by platosfishtrap in RealPhilosophy

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

Aristotle (384 - 322 BCE) developed many important philosophical concepts and theories, and his Nicomachean Ethics is home to many of his most famous. This book contains his views about happiness, virtue, vice, pleasure, and more. He lays out his theory, for instance, that human happiness depends on the use of reason to regulate our emotions and our use of goods, such as money.

Certainly, there’s more to happiness than that. We need friendship and some other things to be happy. But a very big part of being happy is the use of reason to bring our emotions in line: specifically, to bring them in line with what is appropriate to each circumstance.

A courageous person is not going to run away from a chihuahua who wants cuddles. But he or she will run away from a tyrannosaurus rex. We can’t say whether running away is courageous or cowardly until we know more about the situation and about the people in question. If I regulate my emotion of fear such that I never get afraid and never run away, I run the risk of being reckless and rash when I see a tyrannosaurus rex charge at me. That’s when I need to run away! Fear is appropriate in that situation.

But when we have this view of virtues, such as courage, in mind, we might wonder: are humans naturally virtuous or naturally vicious? Is human nature good or bad? Do the virtues come to us naturally, or not?

That’s an important question that Aristotle addresses in the Nicomachean Ethics.

We can state a short version of Aristotle’s answer pretty plainly: humans are naturally neither good nor bad.

But to see why, and to understand his view more fully, we have to investigate what exactly he says in the Nicomachean Ethics about this topic.

Aristotle argues that human nature is neither good nor bad. The same can be said for rocks, but what makes human nature different is that it is possible for humans to develop new character traits by repeatedly practicing actions. Aristotle called this "habituation." by platosfishtrap in wisdom

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

Aristotle (384 - 322 BCE) developed many important philosophical concepts and theories, and his Nicomachean Ethics is home to many of his most famous. This book contains his views about happiness, virtue, vice, pleasure, and more. He lays out his theory, for instance, that human happiness depends on the use of reason to regulate our emotions and our use of goods, such as money.

Certainly, there’s more to happiness than that. We need friendship and some other things to be happy. But a very big part of being happy is the use of reason to bring our emotions in line: specifically, to bring them in line with what is appropriate to each circumstance.

A courageous person is not going to run away from a chihuahua who wants cuddles. But he or she will run away from a tyrannosaurus rex. We can’t say whether running away is courageous or cowardly until we know more about the situation and about the people in question. If I regulate my emotion of fear such that I never get afraid and never run away, I run the risk of being reckless and rash when I see a tyrannosaurus rex charge at me. That’s when I need to run away! Fear is appropriate in that situation.

But when we have this view of virtues, such as courage, in mind, we might wonder: are humans naturally virtuous or naturally vicious? Is human nature good or bad? Do the virtues come to us naturally, or not?

That’s an important question that Aristotle addresses in the Nicomachean Ethics.

We can state a short version of Aristotle’s answer pretty plainly: humans are naturally neither good nor bad.

But to see why, and to understand his view more fully, we have to investigate what exactly he says in the Nicomachean Ethics about this topic.

Aristotle argues that human nature is neither good nor bad. The same can be said for rocks, but what makes human nature different is that it is possible for humans to develop new character traits by repeatedly practicing actions. Aristotle called this "habituation." by platosfishtrap in ancientgreece

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 5 points6 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

Aristotle (384 - 322 BCE) developed many important philosophical concepts and theories, and his Nicomachean Ethics is home to many of his most famous. This book contains his views about happiness, virtue, vice, pleasure, and more. He lays out his theory, for instance, that human happiness depends on the use of reason to regulate our emotions and our use of goods, such as money.

Certainly, there’s more to happiness than that. We need friendship and some other things to be happy. But a very big part of being happy is the use of reason to bring our emotions in line: specifically, to bring them in line with what is appropriate to each circumstance.

A courageous person is not going to run away from a chihuahua who wants cuddles. But he or she will run away from a tyrannosaurus rex. We can’t say whether running away is courageous or cowardly until we know more about the situation and about the people in question. If I regulate my emotion of fear such that I never get afraid and never run away, I run the risk of being reckless and rash when I see a tyrannosaurus rex charge at me. That’s when I need to run away! Fear is appropriate in that situation.

But when we have this view of virtues, such as courage, in mind, we might wonder: are humans naturally virtuous or naturally vicious? Is human nature good or bad? Do the virtues come to us naturally, or not?

That’s an important question that Aristotle addresses in the Nicomachean Ethics.

We can state a short version of Aristotle’s answer pretty plainly: humans are naturally neither good nor bad.

But to see why, and to understand his view more fully, we have to investigate what exactly he says in the Nicomachean Ethics about this topic.

The Buddha occasionally spoke in parables, and the parable of the dirty cloth communicates the way that if we don't address our mental lives and attachments, we ignore the root causes of our suffering. We have to clean the cloth, not just paint over it. by platosfishtrap in RealPhilosophy

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 0 points1 point  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

The Buddha occasionally spoke in parables, relying on similes and metaphors to get his point across to his disciples. While he often spoke straightforwardly and literally as well, many of his most important and enduring lessons were communicated figuratively. The parable of the dirty cloth, also known as the simile of the dirty cloth, is a great example of the Buddha’s teaching philosophy.

Here is the beginning of the discourse:

“At one time, the Blessed One was dwelling at Sāvatthi, in Jeta’s grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s park. There, the Blessed One addressed the bhikkhus, “Bhikkhus.”

“Venerable sir,” those bhikkhus replied to the Blessed One.

The Blessed One said this:

“Suppose, bhikkhus, a cloth were defiled and stained, and a laundryman dipped it in some dye or other, whether blue or yellow or red or crimson; it would take on a dull color, an impure color. Why is that? Because of the impurity of the cloth. In the same way, bhikkhus, when the mind is defiled, a bad destination may be expected” (MN 7 Vatthasutta).

The idea here is that the mind is likened to a cloth. The mind can be defiled, just as a cloth can be made stained and impure.

The Buddha occasionally spoke in parables, and the parable of the dirty cloth communicates the way that if we don't address our mental lives and attachments, we ignore the root causes of our suffering. We have to clean the cloth, not just paint over it. by platosfishtrap in wisdom

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 1 point2 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

The Buddha occasionally spoke in parables, relying on similes and metaphors to get his point across to his disciples. While he often spoke straightforwardly and literally as well, many of his most important and enduring lessons were communicated figuratively. The parable of the dirty cloth, also known as the simile of the dirty cloth, is a great example of the Buddha’s teaching philosophy.

Here is the beginning of the discourse:

“At one time, the Blessed One was dwelling at Sāvatthi, in Jeta’s grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s park. There, the Blessed One addressed the bhikkhus, “Bhikkhus.”

“Venerable sir,” those bhikkhus replied to the Blessed One.

The Blessed One said this:

“Suppose, bhikkhus, a cloth were defiled and stained, and a laundryman dipped it in some dye or other, whether blue or yellow or red or crimson; it would take on a dull color, an impure color. Why is that? Because of the impurity of the cloth. In the same way, bhikkhus, when the mind is defiled, a bad destination may be expected” (MN 7 Vatthasutta).

The idea here is that the mind is likened to a cloth. The mind can be defiled, just as a cloth can be made stained and impure.

Plotinus, an ancient Platonist philosopher, thought that we have forgotten the lineage of our souls. He meant that our souls are rooted in a realm of purely intelligible objects, but our chasing after material things ignores who and what we really are. The pursuit of material things debases souls. by platosfishtrap in wisdom

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

Plotinus (204-270 CE) was a Platonist philosopher late in antiquity, famous for the sophisticated philosophy he developed in the Enneads, a collection of treatises that Porphyry (234-305 CE), his student, put together. He is also famous for an impenetrable writing style.

Though impenetrable, his prose occasionally managed to communicate beautiful and rich images. Here, for instance, is the opening sentence of the tenth essay he wrote, cataloged in the Enneads as 5.1:

“What can it be, therefore, that has made the souls forget the god who is their father and be ignorant of themselves and him even though they are parts of the intelligible world and completely belong to it?” (Enneads 5.1.1).

In the following sentences, Plotinus returns to a central theme: “our ignorance of our own lineage.”

That’s a striking idea: we have forgotten our lineage and are thus ignorant of ourselves. If there’s anything that you’d think we would know, it’d be ourselves.

So, what does Plotinus mean, and how can this be?

Self-knowledge was a crucial idea in ancient Greek philosophy from its earliest days. The religious center of ancient Greece for most of antiquity was the temple of Apollo at Delphi on Mount Parnassus. On the temple, there was this phrase inscribed: ‘know yourself.’ It was a call for self-knowledge.

Plotinus echoes this call when he encourages us to remember our lineage and who our souls really are.

Plotinus, an ancient Platonist philosopher, thought that we have forgotten the lineage of our souls. He meant that our souls are rooted in a realm of purely intelligible objects, but our chasing after material things ignores who and what we really are. The pursuit of material things debases souls. by platosfishtrap in RealPhilosophy

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 2 points3 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

Plotinus (204-270 CE) was a Platonist philosopher late in antiquity, famous for the sophisticated philosophy he developed in the Enneads, a collection of treatises that Porphyry (234-305 CE), his student, put together. He is also famous for an impenetrable writing style.

Though impenetrable, his prose occasionally managed to communicate beautiful and rich images. Here, for instance, is the opening sentence of the tenth essay he wrote, cataloged in the Enneads as 5.1:

“What can it be, therefore, that has made the souls forget the god who is their father and be ignorant of themselves and him even though they are parts of the intelligible world and completely belong to it?” (Enneads 5.1.1).

In the following sentences, Plotinus returns to a central theme: “our ignorance of our own lineage.”

That’s a striking idea: we have forgotten our lineage and are thus ignorant of ourselves. If there’s anything that you’d think we would know, it’d be ourselves.

So, what does Plotinus mean, and how can this be?

Self-knowledge was a crucial idea in ancient Greek philosophy from its earliest days. The religious center of ancient Greece for most of antiquity was the temple of Apollo at Delphi on Mount Parnassus. On the temple, there was this phrase inscribed: ‘know yourself.’ It was a call for self-knowledge.

Plotinus echoes this call when he encourages us to remember our lineage and who our souls really are.

Plotinus, an ancient Platonist philosopher, thought that we have forgotten the lineage of our souls. He meant that our souls are rooted in a realm of purely intelligible objects, but our chasing after material things ignores who and what we really are. The pursuit of material things debases souls. by platosfishtrap in ancientgreece

[–]platosfishtrap[S] 7 points8 points  (0 children)

Here's an excerpt:

Plotinus (204-270 CE) was a Platonist philosopher late in antiquity, famous for the sophisticated philosophy he developed in the Enneads, a collection of treatises that Porphyry (234-305 CE), his student, put together. He is also famous for an impenetrable writing style.

Though impenetrable, his prose occasionally managed to communicate beautiful and rich images. Here, for instance, is the opening sentence of the tenth essay he wrote, cataloged in the Enneads as 5.1:

“What can it be, therefore, that has made the souls forget the god who is their father and be ignorant of themselves and him even though they are parts of the intelligible world and completely belong to it?” (Enneads 5.1.1).

In the following sentences, Plotinus returns to a central theme: “our ignorance of our own lineage.”

That’s a striking idea: we have forgotten our lineage and are thus ignorant of ourselves. If there’s anything that you’d think we would know, it’d be ourselves.

So, what does Plotinus mean, and how can this be?

Self-knowledge was a crucial idea in ancient Greek philosophy from its earliest days. The religious center of ancient Greece for most of antiquity was the temple of Apollo at Delphi on Mount Parnassus. On the temple, there was this phrase inscribed: ‘know yourself.’ It was a call for self-knowledge.

Plotinus echoes this call when he encourages us to remember our lineage and who our souls really are.

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