Plotinus is the hinge between classical mystery schools and every later map of hidden worlds. He duels with Gnostics over whether matter is a curse or a mirror; he out-argues fatalistic astrologers by insisting the stars are signs, not chains; he describes mystical union in language that echoes through Kabbalah, Sufism, and Rosicrucian ritual alike. Even his optics—‘Never did eye see the sun unless it had first become sun-like’—has fueled centuries of alchemical imagery about turning leaden sight to gold.

We’ll follow Plotinus from Alexandria’s lecture halls to Rome’s plague-stricken streets, watch him build a metaphysical ladder from matter to mind to The One, and test whether his promise—that every soul can slip the body’s dim hallway and step into unbroken light—still holds weight for magicians, mystics, and everyday seekers in 2025. Sharpen your inner eye; and light that flame.

“Life is the flight of the Alone to the Alone.” (VI .9 .11)

The year is 270 CE, and the Roman Empire is coming apart at every seam—emperors fall with the seasons, plague drains the streets, and soldiers barter loyalty for silver. Yet amid the collapsing institutions, a quiet figure on an estate in Campania turns his failing eyes inward and speaks of something far older and steadier than Rome: a reality he calls The One, a wellspring of light from which every soul has spilled and to which every soul can return. Today we retrace Plotinus’s extraordinary passage from an obscure Egyptian birthplace, through the lecture halls of Alexandria, across a failed Persian campaign, and into the chambers of Rome where senators, mystics, and widows gathered to watch a man who, witnesses swear, slipped across the frontier of consciousness itself.

Plotinus believed that the cosmos is an unbroken hymn—The One singing itself out into mind, soul, and matter—so that every star, every breath, every heartbeat is a syllable of that single, continuous word. Against the despair of his era, he argued that the world is not an error to escape but the “best possible image” of its own hidden source. Tonight we will follow the logic of his fountain-like emanations, debate his gentle war with the Gnostics and the astrologers, and listen for the moment when philosophy slides into mysticism—when the thinker himself becomes “alone with the Alone.”

“Wisdom is but the act of the Intellectual-Principle withdrawn from the lower places and leading the soul to the Above.” I .6 .6

Plotinus: Life, Philosophy, and Legacy

Plotinus was born around 204–205 CE during the reign of Roman Emperor Septimius Severus, in Roman-controlled Egypt. Later writers give his birthplace as Lyco or Lycopolis in Egypt (possibly modern Asyut in Upper Egypt or a Delta town), but Plotinus himself was notably silent about his family and origins. In fact, according to his student Porphyry, Plotinus “never disclosed his ancestry, parentage or birthplace”, reflecting a sense of shame at being in “the body” and a philosophy that valued the spiritual over the material. This reticence leaves historians uncertain of his ethnic background – some speculate he was Hellenized Egyptian or Greek, but all that is reasonably certain is that Greek was his native language and he received a Greek education. Plotinus showed little interest in his genealogy or homeland, focusing instead on intellectual and spiritual pursuits.

The world into which Plotinus was born was one of great cultural and religious unrest. Egypt in the 3rd century was a diverse province of the Roman Empire, where indigenous Egyptian traditions mingled with Hellenistic Greek culture and the universalizing reach of Rome. Plotinus grew up as the classical Greco-Roman world was nearing the end of its Pax Romana and entering a period of crisis. The empire was sliding toward the “Third Century Crisis”, a turbulent era of frequent wars, political upheavals, and economic difficulties. Despite these challenges, cities like Alexandria – where Plotinus would later study – remained vibrant centers of learning. Alexandria in particular was a metropolis filled with philosophers, scholars of various schools, mystics, and the early stirrings of Christian theology. This was the intellectual setting that would shape Plotinus’s formative years.

Little is known of Plotinus’s childhood, but it is clear that he was drawn to philosophy relatively late in youth. By his own account (as reported by Porphyry), it was not until about age 27 or 28 that Plotinus felt “an impulse to study philosophy”. He traveled to Alexandria, the intellectual capital of Roman Egypt, in search of a teacher. Alexandria at this time had various philosophical instructors – Stoics, Aristotelians, and Platonists – but Plotinus found their teachings unsatisfying. After listening to the prominent lecturers of the city, he grew disheartened, feeling they did not reveal the deeper truths he sought.

Everything changed when an acquaintance recommended he attend the lectures of a self-taught Platonic philosopher named Ammonius Saccas. Plotinus went to hear Ammonius, and upon the first lecture he was overcome with excitement, reportedly exclaiming to his friend: “This is the man I was looking for!”. At last, Plotinus had found a philosophical mentor who resonated with his ideas. He became Ammonius Saccas’s devoted pupil for the next 11 years. Under Ammonius’s guidance, Plotinus made rapid progress in philosophy.

Ammonius Saccas is a somewhat mysterious figure in philosophy – he left no writings and is known mainly through his famous students. He is credited with a revival of Platonic thought in Alexandria and is sometimes considered a precursor to Neoplatonism. (Some sources even suggest Ammonius had been born Christian and later reverted to pagan philosophy, though this remains uncertain.) What is clear is that Ammonius’s teaching profoundly shaped Plotinus. It was common in antiquity for a student to join a philosophical school almost like entering a spiritual community, often for many years. Plotinus indeed “stayed with him for 11 years”, embracing a lifelong quest for truth and the “liberation of the spirit”.

During these Alexandrian years (c. 232–243 CE), Plotinus also absorbed a wide range of earlier Greek philosophy. Besides Ammonius’s Platonic doctrines, he studied Aristotle, the Presocratics (like Empedocles and Heraclitus), Middle Platonists such as Numenius of Apamea, and Stoic and Neopythagorean ideas. This broad background would later enable Plotinus to synthesize ideas from multiple traditions. His contemporaries in Alexandria likely included scholars of many stripes – indeed one tradition holds that Origen, the great Christian theologian of Alexandria, and another student named Herennius studied with Ammonius at the same time as Plotinus. According to Porphyry, the three students (Plotinus, Origen, Herennius) agreed to keep Ammonius’s teachings secret, but this pact was later broken by the others when they began publishing doctrines that may have stemmed from Ammonius. Plotinus, however, “kept faith” and did not divulge Ammonius’s specific teachings in writing, a testament to his loyalty and perhaps to the oral, esoteric nature of Ammonius’s school.

“Therefore we must ascend again toward the Good, the desire of every soul.” I .6 .7

Journey to the East (242–244 CE)

After eleven years in Alexandria, Plotinus developed an ambition to explore Eastern wisdom first-hand. He had heard of the famed sages of Persia and India and wished, as Porphyry writes, to “learn directly the philosophy practiced among the Persians and that which is held in esteem among the people of India.” In 242 CE an opportune moment arrived: the young Roman Emperor Gordian III launched a military expedition against the Persian Empire. Seeing a chance to travel east under imperial auspices, Plotinus joined the expedition at age 38. We do not know in what capacity he traveled – perhaps as a kind of intellectual attached to the campaign – but it was unusual for a philosopher to accompany a Roman army. Some later interpreters speculate Plotinus may have had aristocratic connections that enabled him to attach himself to the emperor’s entourage. In any case, his goal was clear: to reach the heart of Persian and Indian thought.

The world beyond Rome’s eastern frontier beckoned with ancient wisdom traditions (Zoroastrian magi in Persia, and Hindu/Buddhist sages further east). However, Plotinus’s eastern journey went awry almost as soon as it began. Emperor Gordian’s campaign ended in disaster: in early 244 CE, Gordian III was killed (murdered by his own troops) in Mesopotamia during the Persian war. The Roman army fell into disarray, and Plotinus suddenly found himself stranded deep in hostile territory. He barely escaped with his life, making his way north to Antioch in Syria “with difficulty” after the army’s collapse. His dream of meeting Persian or Indian philosophers was cut short; he never reached India, nor did he directly encounter the famed Persian sages.

It is worth noting that Plotinus’s interest in Eastern philosophies was not unusual for a man of his time – Hellenistic thinkers had long been intrigued by Indian gymnosophists, Persian magi, and Egyptian priests. While Plotinus did not manage to learn from Eastern masters in person, later scholars have observed some striking parallels between Plotinus’s ideas and Indian philosophy (particularly the Hindu Upanishads and Advaita Vedanta). For example, both Plotinus and Vedantic thinkers speak of an ineffable One or Brahman as the ultimate reality. These similarities have spurred debate over whether Plotinus was influenced by Indian thought or arrived at similar conclusions independently.

In the mid-20th century, historian Émile Bréhier argued that certain elements of Plotinus’s philosophy (such as the infinite nature of “the One”) were alien to prior Greek thought and might reflect Indian influence. However, this view was convincingly refuted by the scholar A. H. Armstrong in 1936. Armstrong demonstrated that Plotinus’s ideas can be explained as a natural development of Greek Platonic traditions without needing to posit direct borrowing from India. Today, most scholars agree that while Plotinus was curious about Eastern wisdom, there is no concrete evidence of direct influence – the resemblances likely arise from convergent philosophical insight rather than any secret contact. In Armstrong’s words, “Plotinus’s own thought shows some striking similarities to Indian philosophy, but he never actually made contact with Eastern sages...the resemblances...were more likely a natural development of the Greek tradition that he inherited.”. This debate illustrates how Plotinus sits at a crossroads of cultures – rooted in Hellenic philosophy yet with interesting comparisons with broader mystical traditions.

After the failed expedition, Plotinus regrouped at Antioch. In 244 CE, at age 40, he traveled to Rome, then the empire’s capital, and decided to settle there. The choice of Rome was somewhat unusual for a philosopher (many preferred Athens or Alexandria), but Rome offered Plotinus a fresh start and a new audience. He arrived during the reign of Emperor Philip the Arab – a time when the empire was turbulent externally but Roman high society still nurtured literary and philosophical establishments. Plotinus would spend the next quarter century in Rome, teaching, writing, and becoming the center of an influential intellectual circle.

“Withdraw into yourself and look … if you do not find yourself beautiful yet, … never cease chiselling your statue until there shall shine out on you the god-like splendour of virtue.” I .6 .9

Teaching and Community in Rome (244–269 CE)

When Plotinus came to Rome in 244 CE, the city – and empire – were in flux. The mid-3rd century saw a rapid succession of emperors, wars on the frontiers, economic strife, and even plague. Yet amid this chaos, Plotinus created a haven of philosophy. He quickly attracted students and patrons, gaining a reputation as a charismatic teacher. By all accounts, Plotinus’s personal demeanor and ethics were exemplary, which helped win him respect in elite Roman circles. He lived a simple and disciplined life: reportedly he abstained from indulgence in fine foods, avoided baths in favor of simple daily massages, and even refused to sit for a portrait because he disdained the bodily image. (In one famous incident, his friend Amelius had to smuggle an artist into Plotinus’s lectures to sketch his likeness from observation, since Plotinus would not pose – the resulting portrait, done without the philosopher’s knowledge, was the only one of him.) Plotinus’s ascetic attitude and “distrust of the body” were in line with Platonist thought that the material world is a poor shadow of higher reality. He seemed, as Porphyry said, “ashamed of being in a body.”

Despite his private lifestyle, Plotinus was deeply engaged in society through his teaching. In Rome he formed a circle of students and friends that included some of the city’s intellectual and political elite. Among his closest disciples were Porphyry of Tyre (who would become his biographer), Amelius Gentilianus from Tuscany (who reportedly wrote down many of Plotinus’s discussions), the Senator Castricius Firmus, and Eustochius of Alexandria (a physician who attended Plotinus till his death). Other notable associates included Zethos (an Arab aristocrat who left Plotinus property in Campania), Zoticus (a literary critic and poet), Paulinus (a doctor from Scythopolis), and Serapion of Alexandria.

Remarkably, women were also counted among Plotinus’s students, which was somewhat exceptional for the era. A wealthy Roman woman, Gemina, hosted Plotinus in her house for years, and her daughter (also named Gemina) studied with him, as did a woman named Amphiclea (the wife of the philosopher Iamblichus’s brother). This diverse group indicates Plotinus’s broad appeal – he was able to inspire senators, scholars, and women of high status with his philosophy.

Plotinus’s daily activity revolved around informal lectures and discussions, which his biographer Porphyry calls “Conferences” or “meetings” (sunousiai). He did not establish a formal school with institutional structure like Plato’s Academy, but rather a salon-like gathering of eager learners. According to Porphyry, Plotinus’s teaching style was conversational and unforced: “his lectures had the air of conversation” and he welcomed questions and objections.

During sessions, he might have passages from earlier philosophers read aloud (Atticus, Numenius, Aristotle’s works, Stoic writings, etc.) as a springboard for discussion. But he was no mere commentator – Porphyry emphasizes that Plotinus “followed his own path rather than tradition”, using Ammonius’s method of inquiry but thinking for himself. Observers noted that when Plotinus spoke intently “his intellect visibly illuminated his face…he radiated benignity”, sometimes even sweating slightly from the fervor of thought. He was always gracious yet formidable in debate; Porphyry relates how for three days he peppered Plotinus with questions about how soul connects to body, and Plotinus patiently answered until even an impatient visitor had to concede the value of resolving those difficulties before moving on.

Around 254 CE, a decade after settling in Rome, Plotinus began to write essays to capture the fruits of these philosophical discussions. Initially, he had written nothing, preferring oral teaching (perhaps honoring his pledge not to divulge Ammonius’s teachings in writing). But as his circle grew and new questions arose, Plotinus started composing treatises as “reminders” for those in his circle. These writings were often prompted by debates or problems posed during the meetings. Porphyry notes that Plotinus’s treatises echo the manner of analysis from his classroom, and that their purpose was to record the insights reached in discussion.

Plotinus, however, was not a polished writer – he wrote rapidly, in a single draft, with little concern for stylistic niceties or even correcting spelling. His handwriting was reportedly terrible, and he frequently omitted word separations and punctuation. Because of his poor eyesight, he did not revise his manuscripts much. He also disliked revisiting or editing his work; thus, many treatises remained somewhat rough. This placed a heavy burden on his students, especially Porphyry, to later edit and arrange the writings into a coherent collection.

In Rome, Plotinus became more than just a private teacher – he was respected in wider society and even at the imperial court. The Emperor Gallienus (who ruled 253–268 CE) and his wife Salonina held Plotinus in esteem, calling him “philosopher” and honoring him with their presence. By this imperial favor, Plotinus once attempted a grand practical project: he petitioned Gallienus to rebuild a ruined city in Campania as a utopian community for philosophers. This abandoned settlement, which Plotinus referred to as the “City of Philosophers,” was to be refounded and governed according to the laws outlined in Plato’s Laws. Plotinus requested that the emperor designate the territory for the community, which he proposed to name “Platonopolis.” He and his associates would live there, embodying Plato’s ideal society under wise philosophical rule. Gallienus and Salonina were initially receptive and “would have granted the request,” Porphyry says, “without more ado”, but interference at court – jealousy or political obstacles – ruined the plan. Thus, the dream of Platonopolis died, showing the limits of even an esteemed philosopher’s influence in a volatile imperial system.

Within Plotinus’s household in Rome lived a noble widow named Chione and her children, which led to anecdotes of Plotinus’s almost uncanny insight. When Chione’s valuable necklace was stolen by a servant, Plotinus gathered all the servants, scrutinized them closely, and pointed out one man, declaring “This man is the thief.” Under pressure, the man eventually confessed and returned the necklace. On another occasion, Plotinus accurately foretold the futures of Chione’s children – for example, predicting that a boy named Polemon would be “amorous and short-lived,” which proved true. These stories circulated as evidence of the philosopher’s almost Extraordinary intuition or perhaps the favor of his personal daimon (guardian spirit).

Indeed, one famous incident involved Plotinus’s guardian spirit. A certain Egyptian priest visiting Rome offered to invoke Plotinus’s protective daemon to visible appearance. Intrigued, Plotinus agreed. The ritual was performed in the Temple of Isis (chosen by the priest as a spiritually “pure” location in Rome). When the priest conjured the spirit, a divine being appeared – not a lowly spirit or demon, but a God. The Egyptian was astonished and exclaimed that Plotinus’s agathos daimon was of the higher, divine order. Unfortunately, the manifestation abruptly ended when the priest’s assistant foolishly strangled the sacrificial birds (either out of jealousy or panic), disrupting the rite. Nonetheless, the result implied that Plotinus’s soul was under the guidance of a higher divinity, not a mere intermediary spirit.

Porphyry remarks that this revelation inspired Plotinus to write a treatise “On Our Tutelary Spirit,” analyzing the nature of different guardian spirits and why they differ in rank for different individuals. It also accords with Plotinus’s own lofty self-conception – when his student Amelius invited him to participate in certain religious observances of the moon, Plotinus refused, reportedly saying, “It is for those beings to come to me, not for me to go to them.” In other words, he felt the higher powers should seek the philosopher, rather than the philosopher seeking them. This remarkable statement, which even his followers found mystifying, underscores Plotinus’s confident sense of communion with the divine realm.

During these Roman years Plotinus’s reputation spread beyond his immediate circle. He corresponded with renowned thinkers such as Cassius Longinus, a scholar in Athens, who admired Plotinus’s writings. Longinus wrote letters praising Plotinus as “a man worthy of the highest veneration” and eagerly sought copies of all his treatises, though lamenting the poor state of some manuscripts and begging Porphyry for corrected copies.

There were also detractors: some jealous philosophers in Greece accused Plotinus of merely plagiarizing the ideas of Numenius. One of Plotinus’s devoted students, Amelius, answered this charge in a tract titled “The Difference between the Doctrines of Plotinus and Numenius,” arguing point by point that Plotinus’s system was original and not an uncredited copy. This debate over originality shows that Plotinus’s teachings were making enough waves to prompt comparisons with established philosophers. Plotinus himself was above the fray; his focus was on articulating truth as he saw it, rather than claiming personal innovation. In fact, he saw his work as deeply rooted in the Platonic tradition (to be discussed later), and if anything, he viewed himself as reviving and clarifying Plato’s insights rather than inventing a wholly new doctrine.

Even Porphyry, upon first hearing Plotinus' lecture, struggled to grasp some doctrines. He wrote a paper arguing against Plotinus’s position. Instead of taking offense, Plotinus had Porphyry’s critique read aloud by Amelius and, after hearing it, simply smiled and gently said, “Porphyry doesn’t understand our position.” He tasked Amelius to respond in writing, which led to an exchange of essays between Porphyry and Amelius. Only on Porphyry’s third rebuttal did he finally “with difficulty, grasp the doctrine” and convert to Plotinus’s viewpoint. Porphyry then composed a public recantation of his earlier objections, winning Plotinus’s approval. This situation shows Plotinus’s patient, non-dogmatic approach – he allowed debate to unfold and guided his student to understanding rather than demanding blind acceptance. It also exemplifies how rigorous dialectic was integral to his school’s life, much as it had been in Plato’s Academy.

“Seeking nothing, possessing nothing, lacking nothing, the One is perfect … its exuberance has produced the new.” V .2 .1

Later Years and Death (269–270 CE)

By the late 260s, Plotinus’s health was declining. In 268, his disciple Porphyry, who suffered a bout of depression and suicidal thoughts, was advised by Plotinus to leave Rome for a change of scene. Porphyry departed for Sicily, and during Porphyry’s absence Plotinus’s own condition worsened. He developed symptoms such as hoarseness, vision problems, and possibly skin ulcers – Porphyry suggests it might have been diphtheria or a similar illness. As his health failed, Plotinus withdrew from bustling Rome to the more peaceful countryside of Campania in southern Italy. He retired to an estate at Minturnae that had belonged to his deceased friend Zethos, where another

friend, Castricius, helped provide for his needs. Only his student Eustochius, the physician, remained by his side in those final days.

Plotinus died in Campania in late 270 CE, at the age of 66. Porphyry reports a mystical and serene end: as Plotinus was on his deathbed, a snake – symbol of the soul in many traditions – crawled from beneath his bed and slipped out through a hole in the wall, at the very moment he passed away. It was as if his soul had departed the body in that guise. His last words, as recorded by Eustochius, encapsulate his life’s goal: “Try to raise the divine in yourselves to the Divine in the All.” (In another translation: “Strive to bring back the god in yourselves to the God in the All.”). By this, Plotinus meant that one should elevate the divine spark within one’s soul back to union with the ultimate divine reality of the universe – a fitting final words from a philosopher who had always taught the ascent of the soul.

Plotinus died during the reign of Emperor Claudius II, and Porphyry calculates his birth to have been in the 13th year of Septimius Severus (205 CE) based on the age of 66 at death. Importantly, Plotinus had never revealed his exact birthday – he disliked the idea of people celebrating it with sacrifices or feasts, consistent with his avoidance of personal glorification. Yet, interestingly, he himself honored the birthdays of his heroes Plato and Socrates each year, offering the traditional sacrifices and hosting a banquet where every member of his circle would give an address in honor of the occasion. This tradition shows Plotinus’s deep reverence for his philosophical predecessors and the continuity of his school with the Platonic heritage.

After Plotinus’s death, his literary legacy was left in disarray. He had written a large number of treatises (approximately 54 essays) over the last 15–16 years of his life, but they were unfinished in terms of editing and organization. The task of preserving and organizing this corpus fell to Porphyry, who devoted himself to publishing his master’s works. As we shall see, Porphyry arranged them into the famous collection called The Enneads, which has spread Plotinus’s thought to later ages.

Before getting into Plotinus’s philosophy, one final note on his character and personal impact: By all accounts, Plotinus was not only a profound thinker but was also said to have “the highest moral standards” in his personal and social life. He even took in the children of friends who died, caring for their upbringing and education as a guardian. Many in his circle were deeply attached to him not just for his intellect but for his benevolence. He lived out the principles he taught, striving for virtue and self-transcendence. This unity of life and philosophy made him a compelling figure – one who inspired “hero-worship” in Porphyry’s words. As we turn to his ideas, it’s helpful to remember that Plotinus’s doctrine was not just abstract metaphysics; it was a guide to the “ultimate liberation of the spirit”, as Armstrong puts it, which Plotinus himself earnestly sought.

“The One is all things and no one of them; the source of all things is not all things.” V .2 .1

Now we will get into The Writings: Porphyry’s Enneads

The body of Plotinus’s work is preserved in the collection known as The Enneads, compiled by Porphyry. The word enneads means “groups of nine” – Porphyry divided the treatises into six books of nine treatises each (6 × 9 = 54 treatises). This arrangement was somewhat artificial; Porphyry ordered the works thematically rather than chronologically. Ennead I contains ethical topics , Enneads II–III cover cosmology and the sensible world, Ennead IV focuses on the Soul, Ennead V on Intellect, and Ennead VI on the most abstract metaphysics including the One. Porphyry’s aim was to lead the reader from accessible topics to the most profound. However, he admits the sequence isn’t perfect, and later editors have sometimes preferred to read the treatises in the chronological order of composition. Porphyry fortunately preserved a chronological list of the order in which Plotinus actually wrote the treatises (included in his Life of Plotinus).

Plotinus’s style in these essays is concise, dense, and not always polished. He often revisits the same problems in multiple treatises, each time from a new angle, rather than presenting a single systematic treatise. This makes his writings challenging but rich – “more lavish of ideas than of words,” as Porphyry says. Modern readers sometimes find the Enneads difficult, but they reward careful study with deep insights into reality and the soul.

Some notable treatises among the Enneads include: On Beauty (I.6) – which discusses the nature of beauty and the ascent from physical beauty to the Beauty-Itself (this was Plotinus’s first work); On Virtue (I.2) and On Happiness (I.4) – which examine the nature of virtue and true happiness; On Providence (Ennead III.2–3) and On Fate (II.3) – tackling whether the universe is ordered and what role stars and fate play; Against the Gnostics (II.9) – a tract refuting certain Gnostic religious doctrines(we will come back to this later); On the Immortality of the Soul (IV.7) and On the Descent of the Soul (IV.8) – dealing with the soul’s relationship to the body and its journey; On Intelligible Beauty (V.8) – concerning the beauty of the Forms; On the Intellectual-Principle, (V.9); and On the Good or the One (VI.9) – his final and capstone treatise, exploring the nature of the ultimate reality (The One). These are just a few examples – the 54 treatises cover a vast range of topics: metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, psychology, cosmology, and even specific scientific questions of the day (such as vision, time, and the nature of matter).

Plotinus wrote in Greek, but his works reached later ages through various translations. Porphyry’s editorial effort ensured the Enneads survived and circulated in the late Roman world. Centuries later, in the Renaissance, Marsilio Ficino famously translated Plotinus into Latin (1484–1492), making the Enneads available to Western scholars for the first time in full. Ficino considered this labor second only to his translation of Plato and saw Plotinus as a key to reviving Platonism. In modern times, there have been several English translations. The most poetic and influential older translation is by Stephen MacKenna (1917–1930), which, though somewhat dated in language, conveys the “rhythm” and fervor of Plotinus’s prose. A more literal and scholarly translation was produced by A. H. Armstrong in the 1960s–1980s (Loeb Classical Library), which became the standard academic version for decades. Most recently, scholars like Lloyd P. Gerson have offered new translations and interpretations, sometimes challenging earlier views on Plotinus (for instance, Gerson offers a slightly different take on Plotinus’s attitude towards Gnosticism, as we’ll note later). It can be illuminating to compare different translations; for example, MacKenna renders Plotinus’s final speech as “give back the Divine in yourselves to the Divine in the All”, whereas a more modern phrasing is “bring back the god in yourselves to the God in the All.” Both capture the essence of Plotinus’s mystical philosophy, each in their own tone.

Now, with an understanding of his life and writings, let us explore Plotinus’s philosophical system – often regarded as the culmination of Greek Platonic thought and the foundation of what later is called Neoplatonism. We will examine his key ideas in: the One, the emanation of reality from the One, the nature of the true human and happiness, Plotinus’s critiques of Gnosticism and astrology, the practice of henosis (mystical union), and his relationship to Plato’s philosophy. Throughout, we will highlight scholarly interpretations, debates, and even uncertainties, to give a full picture of Plotinus’s thought, what is available to us and how it is perceived.

“One principle must make the universe a single living creature, one from all.” IV .4 .32

The One: Supreme Principle of Reality

At the core of Plotinus’s philosophy stands “the One” (to hen in Greek) – the ultimate principle that is “the first principle of everything”. The One (also referred to as the Good in Platonic terms) is absolutely transcendent and indescribable. Plotinus insists that the One is beyond all categories of being and non-being. It “cannot be any existing thing”, nor even the total of all things, but is “prior to all existents”. In other words, it transcends all particular beings and even the concept of being itself. This echoes Plato’s idea of the Form of the Good, which is beyond being in dignity and power. Plotinus firmly identifies the One with the Good and also with the source of all Beauty. In Ennead VI.9, he argues that the Good is that ultimate simplicity and perfection which every soul seeks.

Why must there be such a One? Plotinus arrives at the One by pushing the question of cause and explanation to the highest level. If we look at the world, everything has a source or principle. The chain of causation or dependency cannot go on to infinity without grounding; there must be a first cause that itself depends on nothing prior. For Plotinus, this first cause must be absolutely simple and unified – if it were complex or one of many, we could seek a more fundamental explanation. Thus it must be the One, the single ultimate reality. He also reasons that the highest principle must contain no division or multiplicity, since any multiplicity implies limitation. The One is so unitary that our normal thinking cannot grasp it, because all thought involves distinguishing subject and object (a duality). Even the divine Intellect is dual in the sense that it contemplates itself and thus has a kind of internal distinction.

The One, however, is beyond even self-awareness or any action (“Plotinus denies sentience, self-awareness or any other action (ergon) to the One”). It simply is, in a manner beyond being.

Plotinus often resorts to negations to describe the One – a method akin to what later theology calls apophatic (negative) theology. We cannot say what the One is in positive terms, because every predicate would limit or define it, whereas the One is “different from everything” that derives from it. So we approach it by saying what it is not: not a thing, not qualified, not limited, not many, not even truly a being. It is “utterly uncompounded, the absolute One”. It transcends even the duality of knower and known, so it is not a mind thinking (that would be Nous, a lower level). This extreme transcendence leads to a paradox – how can such a One produce or relate to the world at all? Plotinus wrestles with this, since he also holds that the One is the cause of everything that exists.

He resolves this by introducing the idea of emanation or outflow. The One is “the (productive) power of all things”, an infinite creative force. Although the One itself is perfectly full and lacking nothing, its superabundant perfection overflows. Plotinus uses analogies like the sun radiating light: the sun does not lose anything by shining, yet light streams forth from it continuously. Similarly, the One, by its very nature as the limitless Good, “expresses” or pours out a universe without diminishing itself. This process is not a deliberate act or a change in the One – it happens eternally and by necessity of the One’s creativity. In Plotinus’s descriptive language, the One “overflowed” and its superabundance produced an Other”. This “Other” that first emanates is Nous (Divine Intellect), the second principle. Emanation (Greek aporrhoia, meaning a flowing-forth) is thus the metaphysical scheme by which multiple levels of reality proceed from the transcendent Source while the Source remains unchanged.

Plotinus emphasizes that the One is not diminished or changed by producing the universe, just as a mirror’s reflection doesn’t alter the object reflected. Plotinus’s world emerges from the One, yet the One remains “above” it, untouched. He even explicitly contrasts emanation to creation ex nihilo (which he knew as a notion held by Christians): the One’s relationship to the universe is like the sun’s light or a fountain’s flowing water, not a craftsman making something from external materials.

Let’s talk about the emanation hierarchy that Plotinus describes, often called the three “hypostases” (underlying realities):

1. The One (The Good) – the absolute, transcendent origin of all. Beyond being and thought; the ultimate cause.

2. Nous (Divine Intellect or Mind) – the first emanation from the One. It is the realm of true Being and thought. It contains all the Forms or Ideas (like Plato’s Forms) as the thoughts of the divine mind. Plotinus identifies this metaphorically with the Demiurge (Craftsman) from Plato’s Timaeus, and with the divine Logos. It is the first will toward the Good. It is a unity-but-multiple: unlike the One, it can be described – it is an intellect that knows itself and the plurality of Forms, so it has structure. Plotinus calls it a “one-many” or a “multiple unity”. Being the second principle, it is absolutely dependent on the One, yet is itself divine and eternal.

3. The Soul (World Soul and souls) – from Nous emanates Soul. First is the World Soul, which Plotinus often subdivides into an “upper” and “lower” aspect. The upper part of Soul remains closely connected to Nous and the intelligible realm, while the lower part immerses itself in shaping the material world (this lower soul is akin to Nature). The World Soul produces individual souls, including human souls. Soul in Plotinus is the level that interfaces with time and matter – it animates the cosmos and all living things. Yet Soul is still double: one foot in eternity (through its higher aspect) and one in time (through its governance of the material world).

4. Matter – at the lowest end of emanation is the material realm, which in Plotinus’s view is the furthest removed from the One’s perfection. Matter itself, when considered apart from form, is almost non-being: it is indefinite and lacks quality (Plotinus even calls matter “almost evil” insofar as it’s the Deprivation of form and good). However, since everything ultimately originates from the One, even matter indirectly derives from the divine source. Thus, the entire cosmos is a radiation of the One’s power through Nous and Soul. Plotinus stresses that the material world, despite its imperfections, is “ultimately of divine nature” because it comes from the One via Nous and Soul. It is the “best possible image” of the higher reality, not a demonic mistake.

This reality can be visualized as a hierarchy or Great Chain of Being: The One at the top, emanating Nous (Intellect), which begets Soul, which produces the sensible world. Importantly, the emanation is continuous and timeless – it’s not that at a moment the One decided to emit Nous; rather, the One always emanates Nous, Nous always emanates Soul like an eternal fountain of reality. And the lower always “looks back” to the higher: Soul contemplates Nous and yearns for it, Nous in turn “looks” to the One as its source of unity.

The concept of emanation distinguishes Neoplatonism (a term modern scholars use for Plotinus’s school) from earlier Platonism. It was Plotinus’s way of explaining how a transcendent, unitary principle could give rise to a diverse, temporal world without compromising its transcendence. He uses many analogies: the sun and its rays (the sun doesn’t lose light by shining), or an overflowing cup, or a mirror’s reflection. Another metaphor is life pouring out: just as a plant overflowing with life may put out new shoots, the One’s perfection “overflows” into Nous.

One crucial point: emanation is not a wilful creation but a necessary overflowing. The One doesn’t “think” or “decide” (those would be actions, and action implies lack or change – which cannot apply to the One). Instead, given that the One is what it is, reality flows from it. Plotinus says the One is so powerful that it cannot help but generate an outflow; “it would be impossible for it...not to express itself as some kind of outflow”, since not emanating would imply a limitation of power. Yet this outflow is eternal and simultaneous with the One. Plotinus compares it to the way a bright object cannot avoid emitting light.

The One remains unchanged and unaffected by emanating. It is like the source of a spring that is not depleted by the stream that flows from it. As the Enneads put it, “The One is in no way affected or diminished by these emanations, just as the Christian God (Plotinus adds) is in no way augmented or diminished by the act of Creation.”. (Plotinus was aware of Christian claims and subtly positioned his view as an alternative understanding of how the divine relates to the world.)

Finally, Plotinus’s One is not an impersonal abstraction; it is also associated with the idea of the Good, and is the ultimate object of love and desire. Plotinus frequently uses religious and superlative language when referring to the One: it is the “father” of all, the transcendent God above all gods. He even calls it “God” (though not in a personal monotheistic sense, but as the beyond-being Godhead). It is “the Unity and the Good” (hen kai agathon), merging Plato’s Form of the Good with the concept of the One. In ethical terms, all beings desire the Good, so all (knowingly or not) desire to return to the One. This gives Plotinus’s metaphysics a profoundly spiritual and moral dimension: the structure of reality is such that everything emanates from the One and seeks to return to the One. We shall see this clearly in Plotinus’s conception of the human soul and its quest for happiness.

“All things are striving after contemplation, looking to vision as their one end … each attaining it in the measure possible to their kind.” III .8 .1

Now let's get into the Second and Third Hypostases – Intellect (Nous) and Soul, since understanding these is key to Plotinus’s views on the world, the self, and even topics like astrology and fate.

Nous (Divine Intellect): This is the immediate emanation of the One. At the moment of emanation (speaking metaphorically, since it’s eternal), this second principle turns back towards its source in contemplation. In Plotinus’s narrative, the first hypostasis beyond the One arises as an indeterminate reality that then, in “seeing” the One, becomes ordered as Intellect and thought. Nous is the realm of real Being – it is Plato’s world of Forms, but instead of Forms existing independently, Plotinus unifies them in one all-encompassing Mind. Nous contains all the archetypal ideas, and at the same time is those ideas, and is the mind thinking them.

It is a living, dynamic intellect – often described as a “living organism of truth”. Plotinus says Nous has a dual aspect: the thinker and the thought (subject and object), but in Nous these are one – Nous is self-thinking thought (an idea foreshadowing Aristotle’s description of the divine mind). Because it has multiplicity (the many ideas), Nous is less unitary than the One, but still a timeless, changeless reality where every idea is eternally present.

Nous is absolutely good and perfect in a derivative sense – it’s the image of the One’s perfection. It’s often referred to as “the Demiurge” by Plotinus because Intellect is what directly structures the cosmos via the Forms. Plotinus even calls Nous “the second god” – subordinate to the One (the prime God) but itself divine. Importantly, the One is present to Nous as its object of desire and unity; Nous is always “gazing” at the One in love and wonder, drawing its sustenance from the One’s light. This contemplative vision of the One becomes the content of Nous (since it cannot grasp the One in itself, it generates the world of Forms in trying to). In this way, Plotinus sees the One as beyond even self-intellection, and Nous as the level where self-awareness and definition begin.

Soul (Psyche): Proceeding from Nous is the principle of Soul. The World Soul is the aspect of reality that bridges the intelligible and the material. It contemplates Nous (and thus gets its intelligible structure from Nous), but it also projects an image of itself onto matter, thus crafting the physical cosmos. Plotinus describes Soul as having a higher part (often called the upper Soul or heavenly Aphrodite in some allegories) that remains in eternal contemplation of Intellect, and a lower part (the nature that “gives life to the world”). The World Soul creates time (since Intellect is eternal, Soul introduces temporal succession when it moves).

All individual souls – such as human souls – are outpourings or “droplets” of the World Soul. Each human soul retains a connection to the World Soul and ultimately to Nous. Plotinus famously asserted that even while a soul is embodied, its highest part remains unfallen in the intelligible realm – a sort of “apex of the soul” that never leaves Nous. This is why we can, through introspection and spiritual effort, reascend to the intelligible world: part of us is always there.

The Soul level is also where multiplicity increases and individuality emerges. Souls descend into bodies, which introduces diversity and separation. However, all souls collectively are one Soul in a higher sense. The material world, with all its changing phenomena, is the “shadow” or last echo of this procession. Plotinus describes matter (the physical element) as neither good nor evil in itself, but as far removed from the One’s light as possible. It’s like the darkest periphery of reality, where form and being are faint. Yet, since the One’s light filters even down here, the cosmos as a whole is good and beautiful in Plotinus’s view – “the most perfect possible image of the intelligible world.”. This is a critical stance that differentiates Plotinus from certain Gnostics (who saw the material world as evil or a mistake, as we will discuss). Plotinus instead insists on the goodness of the world because it originates ultimately from the Good (the One).

The One radiates Intellect. Intellect contains all the ideal realities and thinks them. Soul arises from Intellect, and through Soul, the structure and life of the cosmos come into being. At each stage, the lower level “images/reflects” the level above it in a diminished way. Think of a bright light (the One) casting a series of reflections: the first mirror image (Nous) is brilliant but slightly less intense, the next reflection (Soul) is dimmer, and finally the last (matter) is a very faint glimmer. Despite the diminishing, each lower level depends on the continuous presence of the higher – if the One withdrew, everything would vanish, just as turning off the sun would end all reflections. Thus the cosmos is like a great emanational chain, or an outflowing hierarchy, often termed by later thinkers as the Great Chain of Being.

Now on to: The True Human and the Pursuit of Happiness

Plotinus’s ethics and psychology are rooted in the idea that the true self of a human is not their body or even their empirical personality, but the higher soul that is akin to Nous.

According to Plotinus, “the true human is an incorporeal contemplative capacity of the soul, superior to all things corporeal.” What makes you truly you is not your flesh-and-blood organism but your soul’s rational and spiritual part. The body is a temporary instrument or vessel. He even argues that “Man...is not the coupling of soul and body”; a person is essentially the soul, and in particular the intellectual aspect of the soul, which can exist apart from the body. This leads to a conception of happiness quite different from common views.

For Plotinus, Authentic Happiness (eudaimonia) does not depend on external, worldly conditions. Because the real person is the soul (especially the intellective soul) and not the perishable body, “worldly fortune does not control true human happiness.”. Wealth, health, social status, even physical pain or pleasure – none of these truly determine happiness or misery for the true self. As he boldly states, “there exists no single human being that does not either potentially or effectively possess this thing we hold to constitute happiness.” All have a rational soul, and thus all have access to happiness from within, by realizing their inner potential.

So what actually constitutes happiness for Plotinus? Happiness is the soul’s alignment with its highest, divine aspect, the state of identification with the best in the universe. In practice, this means a life of virtue and, above all, contemplation of truth. Plotinus is here in line with the Platonic and Aristotelian notion that the contemplative life is the supremely happy life, but he radicalizes it: even if a sage is tortured or in extreme physical duress, the sage’s inner self can remain happy by clinging to the intelligible world. He imagines even scenarios like a wise person under torture; although the body suffers, the sage can mentally detach, knowing “that which is being tortured is merely a body, not the true self”. This sounds extreme, but it gets to his point – real happiness is “metaphysical”, not subject to bodily harm.

Plotinus articulated these ideas in treatises like Ennead I.4 “On True Happiness”. There he argues that happiness is attainable by every person (not in the sense that everyone is happy, but that nothing external can prevent one from achieving it, since it depends only on oneself). The essence of happiness is living in accordance with one’s highest nature – which means living in the activity of reason and virtue. The perfect life, he writes, is one where a man “commands reason and contemplation”. The happy person will be self-sufficient in a profound way: not that they don’t need food or shelter, but that their well-being isn’t hostage to those things. Plotinus says the happy person “will not sway between happy and sad” with the vicissitudes of life. Unlike the Stoics, who emphasized enduring hardship with fortitude, Plotinus goes further to say the inner bliss of union with the Good is such that even sleep or unconsciousness cannot truly interrupt it – because the soul at its apex is outside time. He answers Stoic critics who ask how one can be happy if one falls asleep or is knocked senseless; Plotinus replies that the soul “does not sleep” – its highest part is ever active beyond the temporal realm.

Plotinian happiness is the state of the soul’s unity with intellect and ultimately with the One. It is “a flight from this world’s ways and things”, as Plotinus quotes Plato, and a focus on “the highest” (the Forms and the One). It is achieved by an “interior” life turning away from external attachments. In a memorable phrase, Plotinus says true happiness is “living inwardly”, free from slavery to bodily desires. One who attains this “perfect life” is characterized by calm, unshakable contentment, because they identify with the divine intellect rather than the mortal part.

This viewpoint was one of Plotinus’s great contributions to Western thought. It's been claimed Plotinus is among the first to articulate clearly that happiness is an inner state independent of fortune, found only in consciousness (or the soul’s activity). This idea would echo down through Augustine (who was influenced by Plotinus) into later Christian conceptions of the soul’s rest in God, and even into modern ideas of psychological well-being not tied to externals.

Now, how does one achieve this happy state? Virtue is important – Plotinus inherited from Plato the idea that virtues (temperance, courage, justice, wisdom) purify the soul and orient it towards the Good. But he goes beyond ordinary virtue to speak of “purification” and contemplative ascent. The well-known analogy is that the soul must “remember” its true nature and shed what is alien (the bodily desires and identifications). In Ennead I.6 (On Beauty), he describes the process: “You must set free your soul from all outward things and turn wholly within yourself... lay your mind bare of the images of sense, and even your own self, so as to see the One.”. In other words, through practices of intellectual and spiritual focus, one strips away the lower attachments. Plotinus was not a formal mystic with a step-by-step technique, but he advocates philosophical contemplation, ethical living, and dialectical reasoning as means to ascend.

When the soul succeeds in rising to the level of Nous, it experiences profound satisfaction – but Plotinus hints at an even greater fulfillment when the soul transcends Nous and unites with the One itself. That is the peak of happiness, which is really beyond description.

This brings us to Henosis – the mystical union – which is intimately tied to Plotinus’s idea of the ultimate human goal.

Henosis: Union with the One

Henosis (Greek for “oneness” or "unity") is the term for mystical union in Plotinus’s philosophy. Plotinus’s philosophy is often regarded not just as abstract metaphysics but as a mystical path aiming for the soul’s union with God (the One). Henosis is the culmination of that path: the moment when the individual soul, after ascending through virtue and intellect, becomes one with the One – achieving an ecstasy beyond being.

Plotinus doesn’t provide a systematic “how-to” for henosis, but he describes it in several places, particularly in Ennead VI.9 (“On the Good or the One”) and in Porphyry’s biography. Porphyry famously reports that Plotinus himself attained henosis a handful of times: “Plotinus attained such a union [with the One] four times during the years I knew him,” Porphyry writes. This suggests that, for Plotinus, union with the One was not merely theoretical – he claimed to have experienced it. These mystical experiences likely inspired and confirmed his teachings.

What is this union like? By definition, it defies ordinary language. In union, the soul loses all differentiation – seer and seen become one. In a sense it’s a “passing away” of consciousness as we know it. Plotinus describes it in negative terms: there is no perception, no thought, no duality – yet a supreme “awareness” or rather being remains, which is blissful and filled with the One’s presence. One becomes, in Plotinus’s phrase, “alone with the Alone” (a phrase later echoed by Sufis and others). In Ennead VI.9 he tries to convey it: when one approaches the One, “if he remembers who he became when he merged with the One, he will bear its image in himself. He was one, with no diversity in himself... no passion, no desire for another, once the ascent was accomplished.”. Before the One, the soul must drop even the intellectual forms – one must forget even oneself. In that moment, there is a profound unity that is the ultimate goal of life.

Henosis is a transient experience in this life – as indicated, Plotinus only occasionally could reach it, and Porphyry implies he himself perhaps did not. But it is the telos (end) for which our souls exist: to rejoin the Source. In death, Plotinus believed a purified soul would permanently dwell in the intelligible realm and perhaps even be in the presence of the One (though strictly, “permanent union” is tricky to speak of – union is beyond time, so it's not a duration).

Plotinus’s language about henosis often has a religious sentiment. He uses metaphors of seeing: “the two (the soul and the One) are one, with no intermediary, no otherness; the soul ‘touches’ or ‘sees’ the light by becoming identical with it”. He also employs the language of erotic love (from Plato’s Symposium) – the soul as lover yearning to merge with the beloved One. This mystical aspect of Plotinus greatly influenced later mystical traditions. For example, Pseudo-Dionysius, the 5th-century Christian mystic, took much from Plotinus about negative theology and union. In Sufism and medieval Christian mysticism, we similarly see talk of the soul’s union with the Godhead, often echoing Plotinian concepts.

It’s noteworthy that Plotinus insisted henosis cannot be achieved by mere intellectual effort alone. One must undergo a moral purification and a turning of the entire being. There’s almost an element of grace implied – the One “comes” when it wills. In Ennead V.5, he says one should “close the eyes” and awaken the vision of the soul; then “suddenly, you see the solitary One.” Such descriptions resonate with many later mystics.

To give a sense of both the ancient and modern interpretations: Armstrong once described Plotinus’s henosis as “a most powerful protest on behalf of Hellenic philosophy against an un-Hellenic heresy” – Armstrong was emphasizing Plotinus’s context of arguing against Gnostics, meaning that Plotinus’s mysticism was still rational in a way, a fulfillment of Greek philosophy. But others see in henosis a kinship with Eastern mysticism (e.g., union with Brahman in Advaita Vedanta). Modern scholar Lloyd Gerson cautions that Plotinus isn’t endorsing irrational mysticism but rather showing the limit of rational discourse: reason leads one to the precipice of the One, but to actually unite requires transcending discursive thought.

This interplay of philosophy and mysticism in Plotinus is often debated. Widely accepted is that he saw no hard line between them – the philosophic pursuit of truth, if done rigorously and with moral purification, naturally culminates in a mystical union. There is no contradiction: for Plotinus, the highest philosophy is a mystical act.

Henosis is the fulfillment of the emanation cycle in reverse: all reality flowed out from the One, and in the soul’s ascent and union, reality (in the form of an individual consciousness) flows back into the One. Plotinus’s final words at death – “to give back the divine in myself to the Divine in the All” – beautifully encapsulate that goal. It implies that within each of us is a spark of the divine, and life’s purpose is to return that spark to its cosmic source.

Plotinus and the Gnostics

During Plotinus’s time in Rome, Gnostic sects were active and attracted followers with their elaborate cosmologies and promise of spiritual salvation. Plotinus took issue with these Gnostic teachings, seeing them as distortions of Platonism and dangerous deviations.

In fact, Plotinus is our earliest philosophical critic of the movement that modern scholars call Gnosticism. He devoted an entire treatise (Ennead II.9) to refuting their ideas. Porphyry titled this treatise “Against the Gnostics”, and it provides an interesting view into an intellectual debate of the 3rd century.

First, who were these “Gnostics” Plotinus argued against? They were likely members of sects that combined some elements of Christianity or Jewish mysticism with a radically dualistic cosmology. They taught that the material world was the flawed creation of a lower deity (often called the Demiurge or Ialdabaoth), and that above this was a remote supreme God. Human souls, according to Gnostics, were sparks of divinity trapped in the evil material world, and only secret knowledge (gnosis) could free them.

Texts with names like Zostrianus, and Allogenes, contained mystical revelations, and were circulating among these groups. Porphyry even names individuals like the “school of Adelphius and Aquilinus” which had many followers, and they revered apocryphal writings attributed to Zoroaster, Zostrianus, and Nikotheus. These are clearly references to Gnostic scriptures that we now know from discoveries like the Nag Hammadi library. So Plotinus was directly engaging with real Gnostic teachers in his circle. Porphyry said “many Christians of this period – among them sectarians who had abandoned the old philosophy – fell into these doctrines”, implying that some of Plotinus’s own acquaintances were swayed.

Plotinus responded by frequently criticizing the Gnostics in his lectures, and eventually writing his treatise to systematically dismantle their ideas. His key points against Gnosticism include:

Rejection of Contempt for the Material World: The Gnostics taught that the material cosmos is utterly evil, a prison for the soul. Plotinus found this blasphemous and irrational. As a Platonist, he also viewed the sensible world as inferior to the intelligible, but he maintained it is an image of the higher reality and fundamentally good. He argues that if one properly understands emanation, one must “respect the sensible world as the best possible imitation of the intelligible world.”. Gnostics, by contrast, “despise and revile the material universe and its maker,” which Plotinus saw as intolerable blasphemy. He calls the Gnostic view of the world “blasphemous to Plato” because Plato taught the world’s creator was good (the Timaeus’s Demiurge creates a kosmos that is “good” and “beautiful”). For Plotinus, the Cosmos is a living, ensouled organism governed by the World Soul and illuminated by Nous; it is not the botched work of a fallen deity.

Critique of Gnostic Cosmogony: Gnostic myths often involve a complex cosmogony where a divine realm of Æons degenerates, sometimes through a mistake by an Æon (like Sophia/Wisdom), resulting in the creation of the material world. Plotinus attacked these myths as senseless jargon and arbitrary storytelling. He was a philosopher used to rigorous reasoning, so the Gnostic penchant for baroque myth offended him. He accuses them of plagiarizing Plato’s ideas and corrupting them with outlandish inventions. For example, he refutes the Gnostic notion of a “new earth” or a distinct principle called “Wisdom” outside the Intelligible realm. He also targets the Gnostic idea of the soul’s “fall” – Gnostics often said the soul fell from the Pleroma (fullness) and got entangled in matter. Plotinus, while using the metaphor of descent, insists the universe was not created in time by a fall; it’s an eternal procession and thus the world has always existed and always will (no Edenic golden age followed by a cosmic disaster).

Moral and Spiritual Critique: Plotinus also observed the behavior and attitude of these Gnostics and found it objectionable. He says they are arrogant and elitist, claiming to be the only ones with divine spark and looking down on even the heavenly bodies and gods. One of his arguments: If they despise the world so much, why do they indulge in its pleasures when it suits them? In Porphyry’s Life (ch.16) he notes that Plotinus and his pupils spent much time in anti-Gnostic controversy, clearly viewing Gnosticism as “an extremely dangerous” heresy. Armstrong summarizes that to Plotinus, “the teaching of the Gnostics seems untraditional, irrational and immoral. They despise the ancient Platonic teaching and claim a new revelation.”. This conservative stance of Plotinus – defending Hellenic tradition against novel sects – is notable.

Against Gnostic Misotheism: Some Gnostics portrayed the creator as ignorant or malevolent. Plotinus found it absurd and impious that one would “refuse to acknowledge the hierarchy of created gods and spirits” (like the stars, world-soul, etc.) and instead say only they (the Gnostics) are children of the true God. He ridiculed their “ridiculous arrogance” in claiming to be above the cosmic order. He also calls out the “absurdities” of the Gnostic myth of the fall of Sophia and their magical beliefs (some claimed they could control cosmic powers via magic).

To systematically counter these points, Plotinus’s Against the Gnostics goes through a structured rebuttal. Porphyry’s notes (and Armstrong’s introduction) outline it roughly: first, an exposition of true Platonic doctrine (the three hypostases) to show its completeness; then arguments for the eternity of the universe against Gnostic creation-in-time; then specific refutations: e.g., the Gnostic idea of a flawed world made by a fallen soul is wrong – the world-soul is good; the Gnostics misuse Platonic terms and have incoherent cosmologies (the “senseless jargon” passage); the universe is good and governed by a providence, not by evil; the Gnostics’ contempt for stars and planets is wrong – these are ensouled beings and part of the divine order; and their claim to secret magic or being above other souls leads to immorality.

Plotinus’s vehement opposition reveals a lot about his own philosophy too. It emphasizes his cosmic optimism: the idea that the universe is as good as it can be given its place in the hierarchy. It also underscores his commitment to Greek rationality and continuity – he saw the Gnostics as interlopers twisting Plato, whereas he considered himself the faithful transmitter of Plato’s insights. Plotinus even says he is not coining new doctrine but clarifying tradition. This stance likely helped shape Neoplatonism’s identity in contrast to Gnostic or Christian thought.

Interestingly, modern scholarship has nuanced this picture. For a long time, Armstrong’s view (from the 1950s–60s) that Plotinus was extremely hostile to Gnostics was standard. Armstrong portrayed the treatise as a “most powerful protest on behalf of Hellenic philosophy against the un-Hellenic heresy”. However, more recently, scholars like Lloyd P. Gerson have suggested that Plotinus might not be as “vitriolic” as once thought. Gerson notes that Plotinus had friends in his circle who were inclined to Gnostic ideas, and that Plotinus aimed to correct them philosophically without entirely condemning them personally. Plotinus’s tone in the treatise, while firm, is still philosophical argument, not mere polemic. He invites the Gnostics to “tell us in what respects they intend to disagree with Plato… these views should be set out in a considerate and philosophical manner.”. This shows he was willing to debate specifics, not just denounce. Gerson emphasizes that Plotinus shared a critical attitude toward the material world (as any Platonist would), but he diverged from the Gnostics in that he loved the world as an image of the divine. Basically Plotinus wanted to reform what he saw as the Gnostics’ misunderstandings of Platonism.

Plotinus’s confrontation with Gnosticism was a defining intellectual battle of his career. It reinforced his own doctrines: the eternity of the universe, the goodness of the World Soul and the stars, the insistence on clear philosophical reasoning over wild myth, and the view of salvation through philosophical purification and contemplation rather than through belonging to an elect with secret knowledge. His efforts left a legacy – later Neoplatonists (like Porphyry and Iamblichus) also took anti-Gnostic stances, and Church Fathers like Augustine (who was once involved with a quasi-Gnostic sect, the Manicheans) found in Plotinus a more rational spirituality that influenced them away from Gnostic dualism. Thus Plotinus can be seen as having saved Platonism from being eclipsed by Gnostic theosophy, reasserting a worldview where even the far-flung corners of the cosmos are under the care of the Good.

Plotinus on Astrology and Fate

In the 3rd century, astrology – the belief that the stars and planets influence human destinies – was highly popular (even some Stoic philosophers accepted a deterministic astrology). Plotinus, however, was wary of any doctrine that undermined the rational order or human moral responsibility. In a late essay titled “Are the Stars Causes?”, Plotinus addresses the notion of causal astrology head-on.

Plotinus’s stance can be summarized as: the stars may be signs (indicators), but not causes of our fate. He reasons that attributing direct causal power over human affairs to the positions of stars and planets would introduce an irrational, mechanistic fate into the cosmos that conflicts with the providence of the divine and with our free will. He asks, if a specific star’s configuration dooms someone to vice or misery, where is the justice or reason in that? It would make the universe irrational and morally incoherent.

In “Are the Stars Causes?” (Enn. II.3), Plotinus argues several points:

The cosmos is a living being with a soul (the World Soul) that orders everything providentially. The heavenly bodies (stars and planets) themselves are ensouled beings – splendid, eternal, and part of the divine order. They move in their courses not to micromanage our lives but as part of the harmony of the All.

If astrologers say the stars cause events or personal traits, this implies a weird scenario: either the star-souls are deliberately manipulating us (which would make them malicious or petty – unthinkable for divine beings), or the matter of the stars somehow emanates forces that override our reason (which would mean matter is controlling spirit – also absurd in Plotinus’s hierarchy).

Plotinus concedes that the correlation between celestial cycles and earthly events is not imaginary – patterns exist. But he interprets this as synchronicity within a unified organism, not as one causing the other. In other words, the stars may indicate future trends (because all parts of the cosmos are interwoven in meaning), just as a person’s flushed face might indicate a fever without causing it. He is willing to allow that astrologers can sometimes predict things by reading the “letters in the sky”, but he insists this does not mean the stars caused those things in a mechanistic sense.

Plotinus thus navigates a middle ground: he is not completely dismissing astrology, since he accepts a kind of cosmic symbolism or “signs” concept. The stars, being divine lights, could be viewed as part of the communication of the universe’s order. But he strongly rejects astrological determinism – the notion that our character or fate is locked in by stellar positions at our birth is incompatible with his view of the dignity of the soul and the goodness of Providence. Plotinus believes each soul has the freedom (indeed the duty) to turn inward and upward, regardless of material conditions. If one were to blame the stars for one’s moral failings or misfortunes, that would encourage passivity and fatalism, which Plotinus cannot accept.

In On Fate, he also integrates this with the concept of Universal Reason (Logos) – fate, in the sense of an ordered sequence of causes, exists, but it is subsumed under Providence. There is a rational plan (Providence) that orders everything, and what people call fate is just the lower manifestation of that plan in the connected chain of natural causes. But this chain of natural causes (including stars influencing weather, etc.) does not absolutely determine the choices of rational souls. Souls, especially at the intellectual level, participate in the higher freedom of the divine. Thus human freedom coexists with a meaningful cosmic order in Plotinus’s thought.

Interestingly, this view of Plotinus on astrology influenced later thinkers. Renaissance Platonists like Ficino, who was himself an astrologer of sorts, often echoed that the stars incline but do not compel. The idea that astrology is about reading signs rather than submitting to causes ultimately allowed astrology to be philosophically defended through the Renaissance in a Plotinian spirit (until a more mechanistic science dispensed with it entirely).

From the evidence, Plotinus was one of the first philosophers to articulate arguments against strict astrological determinism. This was significant because it helped preserve the notion of moral responsibility and the integrity of divine providence against a fatalistic view that was tempting in a tumultuous era. Given that many people in the crisis of the 3rd century sought solace in astrology (to find some certainty), Plotinus’s message was: the stars are part of the chorus of the cosmos, not puppet-masters of your soul. The proper attitude towards the stars, for Plotinus, is reverence (they are divine) and understanding of the universal sympathy that connects all things, but not servile fear or blind reliance. One anecdote we saw earlier indirectly relates: Plotinus’s enemy Olympius tried to use “star-spells” (an astrological magic) against him, and reportedly the attempt backfired because of Plotinus’s powerful soul. Plotinus feeling the attack and describing Olympius’s limb convulsions shows that he acknowledged some kind of occult effect, but ultimately virtue and the power of the higher soul prevailed. This dramatizes his belief that no astrological “curse” can harm the philosopher rooted in intellect.

Plotinus viewed astrology through a philosophical lens: it's not outright nonsense, but its popular form is based on a misunderstanding. Stars signify, but they do not compel. The rational soul is meant to guide itself by the higher stars (the Forms), not by the physical stars.

Plotinus as Plato’s Successor

Plotinus considered himself not an innovator but a faithful interpreter of Plato. In his seminars, he would frequently have Plato’s dialogues read aloud, and he built on Platonic doctrine at every turn. However, later historians label him the founder of “Neo”-platonism because he did go beyond Plato in constructing a more systematic metaphysics of the three hypostases. Let’s see how Plotinus relates to Plato and other predecessors:

Plato: Plotinus virtually idolized Plato, referring to him often simply as “the Philosopher.” On the birthdays of Plato and Socrates, Plotinus celebrated with special honor. He believed that Plato’s writings contained the truth in need of proper interpretation. Plotinus’s metaphysics of the One, Intellect, and Soul can be seen as a grand elaboration of hints in Plato. For instance, Plato’s Republic posits the Form of the Good beyond being – Plotinus identifies that with the One and makes it the center. Plato’s Timaeus describes a transcendent Craftsman (Demiurge) and a World Soul – Plotinus’s Nous corresponds to the Craftsman/Forms and his World Soul is directly from that tradition.

Middle Platonist philosophers like Numenius had already spoken of a second deity or “Nous” emanating from a supreme One or Good, and Plotinus built on those ideas. When some accused him of borrowing from Numenius, Amelius and Porphyry defended Plotinus by showing differences – likely emphasizing how Plotinus’s One is absolutely transcendent (Numenius had two gods, with the second doing creation; Plotinus says the highest itself involuntarily generates the second). Plotinus saw himself as clarifying Plato, especially against misreadings by other sects (like the Gnostics or perhaps Stoics). Notably, he avoided writing commentaries on Plato; instead, he integrated Platonic doctrines into his own systematic treatises.

Aristotle: Plotinus respected Aristotle’s philosophy greatly and absorbed much of it. Porphyry notes “Aristotle’s Metaphysics, especially, is condensed in Plotinus’s writings almost entire” – which is quite a statement. Plotinus indeed uses Aristotelian terminology of act, potency, the categories, etc., but often subtly modifies them. For example, Aristotle’s concept of the Unmoved Mover as purely actual intellect influenced Plotinus’s concept of Nous, though Plotinus places a One above that. Plotinus also adopts Aristotle’s idea of the intellect knowing itself (Nous thinking itself) directly into his system. However, he diverges by insisting that even the self-thinking intellect must be transcended. He also critiques some Aristotelian ideas like the eternity of the world in a different sense – actually Plotinus agrees the world is eternal, but he has no use for Aristotle’s denial of a transcendent Good beyond being (Aristotle’s God is thought thinking itself, not a One beyond thought).

Middle Platonists & others: Plotinus definitely drew on the work of previous Platonists like Numenius of Apamea (2nd century). Numenius had taught a supreme “First God” and a second “Demiurge” and that matter was preexistent and evil. Plotinus’s hierarchy One-Nous-Soul can be seen as a refinement: One = Numenius’s First God, Nous = second God/Demiurge, Soul = third principle; but Plotinus refuted the idea of matter as a co-eternal evil principle, instead seeing matter as a privation, which is more in line with Plato’s Timaeus where the Demiurge imposes form on a preexisting chaos, but Plotinus denies that chaos has real being. Porphyry’s letter (included in Life ch.17-18) addressing differences with Numenius suggests Plotinus’s originality: presumably, Plotinus emphasized the continuity of all levels (no absolute dualism) and the indwelling presence of the higher in the lower – i.e., even in matter the One’s presence is faintly there, whereas some earlier thinkers might have had a harsher dualism.

Overall, Plotinus synthesized 600+ years of Greek philosophy: he took Parmenides’s concept of the One, Heraclitus’s dynamics, Plato’s dualism of intelligible vs sensible, Aristotle’s logic and psychology, Stoic ethics to some degree, and Pythagorean/Neopythagorean numerological themes (he even wrote on the significance of numbers, see Ennead VI.6 On Numbers). The result was something both traditional and new. Plotinus himself insisted it was the true interpretation of Plato – later thinkers realized it was a new school, hence Neoplatonism.

One debate in scholarship is whether calling Plotinus a “Neoplatonist” (a term coined in the 19th century) is fair, or whether he’s just a Platonist in the Platonic succession. The consensus is that Plotinus’s system is a distinct development. For example, Plato didn’t clearly articulate the One as separate from the Good or a triadic emanation structure – those are Plotinus’s developments, influenced by centuries of intervening thought and perhaps non-Greek ideas. Another debate: how much did Plotinus incorporate mystery religion or Eastern concepts? Some, like Bréhier earlier, thought quite a bit (leaning on maybe Indian input, as mentioned), others like Armstrong showed good Greek pedigree for his ideas.

What is widely accepted is that Plotinus’s thought was original in form even if claimed to be old in content. He did not invent theorems, but he did “invent” a new synthesis in philosophy – he systematized a form of henological (One-centered) metaphysics that became the standard for later Platonism.

Porphyry and the later Neoplatonists regarded Plotinus as a second Plato or at least as the authoritative guide to Plato’s deepest meaning.

To any extent he “invented” something tangible: not in the way an engineer would, but he did originate a philosophical writing that combined rigorous metaphysics with mystical insight so seamlessly. This would heavily influence philosophical and religious thought for centuries.

Legacy and Influence of Plotinus

Plotinus’s impact rippled through late antiquity and beyond, shaping the course of philosophy and theology in multiple cultures.

Immediately after Plotinus’s death, his school continued through Porphyry and other students. Porphyry not only edited the Enneads but also wrote introductions and commentaries, spreading Plotinus’s ideas. Another student, Amelius, took Plotinus’s teachings to Syria. A generation later, Iamblichus built on Plotinus, but introduced new elements like theurgy (ritual magic) to Neoplatonism. While he differed on some points (he placed more intermediaries between the One and the world, and emphasized polytheistic cult practice), he still considered Plotinus a master.

By the 4th century, Neoplatonism became the dominant philosophy in the Greek-speaking world. The emperor Julian the Apostate, who attempted to revive pagan religion, was deeply influenced by Neoplatonism. Julian’s own writings praise the sun god in Plotinian terms and he studied under Iamblichus’s student. Hypatia of Alexandria, the famous woman philosopher, also taught a form of Neoplatonism and was likely acquainted with Plotinus’s work.

Plotinus’s ideas about the One, the Intellect, and the Soul provided a philosophical framework that pagan thinkers used to interpret their traditional gods allegorically; they might say Zeus represents the One’s power, Athena represents Nous.

The last great pagan philosophical school in Athens (5th century), where Proclus taught, was thoroughly Neoplatonic. Proclus wrote extensive commentaries and even a systematic work (Elements of Theology) that owes much to Plotinus’s triadic structure.

However, it wasn’t only pagans. Christian thinkers in late antiquity also felt Plotinus’s influence. Church Fathers like St. Augustine recount how reading “the books of the Platonists” (likely Latin translations of Plotinus and Porphyry by Marius Victorinus) helped him conceive of God as a non-material highest being. Augustine wrote, “Plotinus...is the Plato of our times”. He integrated many Plotinian ideas – for example, the notion of God as the source of being, the hierarchy of being, and the idea of evil as privation – into Christian doctrine, although he ultimately had to diverge on issues like the eternity of the world and the personal nature of God. A direct quote by Bertrand Russell encapsulates this blending: “Christian theologians combined these points of view, and embodied much of the philosophy of Plotinus... Plotinus is historically important as an influence in molding the Christianity of the Middle Ages.”.

Perhaps the most striking case is Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite (circa 5th century), an Eastern Christian mystical theologian. Pseudo-Dionysius borrowed heavily from Plotinus (through Proclus perhaps) – the concept of the soul’s ascent to God, the negative theology of saying God is “beyond being”, and a hierarchy of angels analogous to Plotinus’s hypostases. He even uses the term “One” for God and describes divine “emanations” (he calls them processions and returns). The Eastern Orthodox theological idea of divine energies vs. essence arguably parallels Plotinian layers of the divine. Thus, Plotinus, via such Christian Neoplatonists, influenced medieval Christian mysticism and theology .

Gnostic and Hermetic traditions also indirectly drew on Neoplatonism. Although Plotinus fought the Gnostics, ironically later esoteric thought often merged Gnostic cosmologies with Neoplatonic structures. The Hermetic writings like Poimandres, roughly contemporary with Plotinus, share some concepts (a supreme One or Mind). Scholars debate cross-influences, but certainly by late antiquity a general Neoplatonic flavor pervaded many spiritual writings.

In the Islamic world, Plotinus’s thought was transmitted somewhat covertly. In the 9th century, Arabic scholars in the Abbasid caliphate compiled a work called the “Theology of Aristotle,” which was actually a paraphrase of Plotinus’s Enneads IV-VI misattributed to Aristotle. Through this and other translations, Plotinian ideas entered Islamic philosophy. Early Islamic Neoplatonists like al-Kindi (9th c.) and the Brethren of Purity took on such ideas. More significantly, Ismaili Shi’a theologians and Persian philosophers employed Neoplatonic concepts: figures like Al-Farabi, Avicenna (Ibn Sina) were influenced indirectly by Plotinus (often via the Theology of Aristotle). Avicenna’s scheme of emanation and intellect owes much to Neoplatonism.

In the esoteric Ismaili tradition, as noted by historians, Neoplatonism was adopted by thinkers like Nasafi and Abu Ya’qub al-Sijistani, and later by the Fatimid court philosopher al-Kirmani. They recast Plotinus’s hypostases in an Islamic cosmology, equating the One with Allah’s Essence, the Nous with the first Intellect (maybe the first angel or the Universal Intellect in Farabi’s scheme), and the World Soul with a second intellect or active intellect.

This Neoplatonic strain significantly influenced Islamic mysticism (Sufism) as well; for example, Suhrawardi and Mulla Sadra in Persian thought show strong Neoplatonic colors. The influence on Islam is thus a story of assimilation and adaptation: by the 11th century, Neoplatonism was “adopted” officially in places like Fatimid Egypt, and authors like Nasir Khusraw wrote works blending Neoplatonic cosmology with Islamic theology.

In Jewish thought, Plotinus’s influence came slightly later but was profound. Early medieval Jewish philosophers like Isaac Israeli or Solomon ibn Gabirol (Avicebron, c. 1021–1058) were essentially Neoplatonists. Gabirol’s Fons Vitae posits a hierarchy from God’s Will to universal matter reminiscent of Plotinus. Moses Maimonides (1135–1204), though more Aristotelian, was aware of Neoplatonism and in negative theology (saying we can only say what God is not) he echoes Pseudo-Dionysius, who echoes Plotinus. Also, the Kabbalah has interesting parallels: the Kabbalistic Sefirot (emanations of God) concept is sometimes thought to be influenced by or at least analogous to Neoplatonic emanation (though Kabbalists couched it in their own symbolism).

By the time we reach the Middle Ages in Christian Europe, much of Plotinus’s impact was indirect via Augustine and Pseudo-Dionysius. The high medieval scholastics (like Aquinas) engaged more with Aristotle (who had become accessible) but even Aquinas, when discussing the hierarchy of being and the transcendence of God, occasionally uses Neoplatonic language (for instance, Aquinas’s doctrine that we know God better by what He is not owes something to negative theology tradition). The privative theory of evil – that evil is not an independent substance but a lack of good – is straight from Plotinus (Enn. I.8) and Augustine. That became the standard Christian explanation of evil.

Renaissance Revival (15th–16th Centuries)

The Renaissance saw a massive revival of Platonism and Neoplatonism, with Plotinus at the center. In Florence, 15th century, the Medici patronage led to the founding of a new Platonic Academy, led by Marsilio Ficino. Ficino was commissioned by Cosimo de’ Medici to translate Greek philosophical works into Latin. By 1460, Ficino had Plato’s complete works done. Then, around 1484, Ficino completed the first ever Latin translation of Plotinus’s Enneads (published in 1492). This was groundbreaking: the West previously had no direct access to Plotinus’s text – medieval knowledge of Plotinus was piecemeal through Augustine and others. With Ficino’s translation, Renaissance scholars could read Plotinus in full. Ficino himself was deeply influenced; he wrote commentaries on Plotinus and incorporated Neoplatonic ideas into his own philosophy (which sought to reconcile Platonism with Christianity). Ficino’s major work, Platonic Theology, is filled with Plotinian thought: the hierarchy of being, the immortality of the soul via its participation in divine unity, etc.

The Ficinian academy’s activities “reconciled the philosophy of Plato directly with Christianity”. Key Renaissance figures like Pico della Mirandola (Ficino’s pupil) were Neoplatonic in outlook – Pico’s famous Oration on the Dignity of Man has echoes of Plotinus’s exaltation of the soul’s potential ascent to divine status. The concept of Platonic love in the Renaissance, which Ficino explicated (love as a force that lifts the soul to contemplation of divine beauty), is quite Plotinian (from Ennead I.6 and III.5 on love). Even art and literature felt the influence: themes of ascent to the One or the vision of divine beauty show up in poets like Edmund Spenser or artists influenced by Neoplatonic ideals of beauty reflecting the divine.

I also would like to mention that Renaissance thinkers often amalgamated Plotinus with later Neoplatonists, Hermetic and Kabbalistic sources – it was an esoteric blend. Nevertheless, Plotinus was highly esteemed as a sage. Some Renaissance scholars, breaking from Scholastic Aristotelianism, saw in Plotinus a more spiritually satisfying philosophy. The Cambridge Platonists in 17th-century England are an example of that legacy.

Influence in England and Modern Thought

In 17th-century England, a group known as the Cambridge Platonists (including figures like Henry More, Ralph Cudworth, and John Smith) drew explicitly on Neoplatonism, citing Plotinus as inspiration. Plotinus’s ideas of the indwelling divine in the soul and the continuum of spirit and matter suited their attempts to reconcile religion with emerging science. For instance, Henry More wrote a commentary on aspects of Plotinus. They championed Platonic love, the pre-existence of the soul, and such concepts that have Plotinian flavor. They considered Plotinus almost an honorary Christian in spirit.

Besides academic philosophers, Plotinus influenced English literature and thought more broadly. Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772–1834), the poet, had strong Neoplatonic streaks (he read the Cambridge Platonists and German Idealists, themselves influenced by Neoplatonism). Coleridge’s idea of the One Life in nature and the symbol of a return to unity resonates with Plotinus. The famous lines in Wordsworth about the soul’s “trailing clouds of glory” from God – arguably an echo from Neoplatonic ideas of emanation and return.

In the 19th century, romantic and transcendental writers were drawn to Neoplatonism. For example, the American Transcendentalists read Plotinus. Ralph Waldo Emerson explicitly mentions the influence of Neoplatonic ideas on him. Emerson’s concept of the Over-Soul is a fusion of Plotinus’s One/Nous and Vedanta’s Brahman/Atman idea. Indeed, a study in 1967 by Dale Riepe examined how Advaita Vedanta and Neoplatonism jointly influenced Emerson, illustrating that by the 19th century, Plotinus was part of the global conversation on mysticism and unity.

William Blake, earlier, though idiosyncratic, had the idea “If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite” – reminiscent of Plotinus’s notion that in mystical union, we see the All as one infinite reality.

The poet W.B. Yeats (1865–1939) was notably influenced by Neoplatonism. Yeats cites Plotinus in his essays, and his system of thought (as in A Vision) uses a lot of Neoplatonic imagery (gyres can even be likened to emanation cycles).

Kathleen Raine (1908–2003), a scholar-poet, was a known Platonist who wrote on Blake and others with a Neoplatonic lens. She helped revive interest in the mystical aspect of Platonism in the 20th century.

I also want to mention the Victorian “Neoplatonist” Thomas Taylor (1758–1835) – although earlier than these, Taylor was an English translator who in the late 18th century rendered many Greek philosophical works into English, including Plotinus. Taylor was a devotee of pagan Neoplatonism and influenced the Romantic generation (Shelley and Keats browsed his works). He kept Neoplatonism alive in English at a time it was little known. Through Taylor, the Theosophical movement (Madame Blavatsky, etc., in the late 19th century) also came to appreciate Neoplatonism, connecting it with Eastern philosophies.

Comparisons and Influence in India

As we noted, Plotinus showed interest in Indian philosophy but never got to meet Indian sages. However, modern scholars and spiritual thinkers have often commented on how Plotinus’s thought resembles Vedanta or other Indian traditions.

The Upanishads, which teach that the individual soul (Atman) is one with the supreme reality (Brahman) when ignorance is dispelled, is conceptually akin to the Plotinian journey of the soul to union with the One.

Both speak of the highest reality in terms of pure unity and consciousness. Both treat the material world as a lower, derivative reality (maya or prakriti in Vedanta vs. the realm of matter in Plotinus).

In the 20th century, scholars like J.F. Staal wrote about analogies between Advaita Vedanta and Neoplatonism. He and others have pointed out parallels.

For example, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, a prominent Indian philosopher, often cited Plotinus alongside Shankara (the great philosopher) to illustrate monistic metaphysics.

Ananda Coomaraswamy, an early 20th-century scholar, explicitly compared Plotinus’s teachings to Advaita Vedanta, calling Plotinus’s work a superb elaboration of monism parallel to the Upanishads. They found common ground in ideas like the One without a second, the method of negation, and the practice of interiority and contemplation.

One quote from an Indian perspective: A scholar M. Vasudevacharya said, “Though Plotinus never managed to reach India, his method shows an affinity to the ‘method of negation’ as taught in some Upanishads ... and also to the practice of yoga.”. Indeed, the way Plotinus recommends withdrawing the senses and focusing inward could be compared to Raja Yoga or meditation techniques in Hinduism.

Some have even called Plotinus “the sage of the West” in parallel to the Eastern sages. However, we must emphasize there’s no evidence of direct historical influence either way. Plotinus likely didn’t know Indian doctrines in detail, and India only learned of Plotinus through colonial-era scholarship (though Neo-Vedantins like Radhakrishnan welcomed him as a kindred spirit). So the connection is more comparative and perhaps pointing to universal mystical tendencies.

In modern times, certain New Age or esoteric movements sometimes merge Plotinus with Eastern thought – for example, the idea of the One surfaces in Theosophy as a blend of Western and Eastern. Additionally, Sri Aurobindo, a modern Indian sage, though more influenced by Vedanta, occasionally referenced Western mystics; he was aware of Neoplatonism through his education.

In terms of “influential,” one can say Plotinus influenced:

influenced Christian theology, Islamic philosophy/mysticism , and esoteric traditions.

He cemented the philosophical underpinnings that bridged classical thought with emerging monotheisms. Neoplatonism became the last great pagan philosophy and also a vehicle that translated pagan thought into terms compatible with Christianity.

He provided a foundation for spiritual philosophy in an age of science (Cambridge Platonists, Romantic poets, etc.) and continues to interest groups (like the Temenos academy co-founded by Kathleen Raine).

He also offered a point of interfaith or East-West dialogue, showing that deep philosophies of unity emerged independently in both cultures. It also influenced some comparative philosophy works and the self-perception of modern Indian philosophers who often claim ancient Indian philosophy had analogous heights as Greek – with Plotinus frequently used as the Western counterpoint to Shankara.

Plotinus stands as a pivotal figure who bridged classical Greek philosophy and later religious thought. His biography, though scant in personal details, shows a life devoted to “bringing back the divine in himself to the Divine in the All”.

His philosophy, centered on The One, emanation, the true self’s happiness in union with the divine, critique of dualistic heresies, skepticism of astrological determinism, and the possibility of mystical henosis, has proven to be one of the most enduring systems of thought.

It provided tools for theological reflection, mystical practice, and philosophical speculation that are still in use. As one modern scholar put it, Plotinus’s views may appear “astonishingly innovative or even modern” precisely because they address perennial human spiritual aspirations in a rigorous philosophical form. Almost eighteen centuries later, readers of Plotinus, whether academic or spiritual, continue to find illumination in his amalgam of reason and mysticism, making him truly, as the old Neoplatonists believed, an “illuminator” – a philosopher who guides souls upward to the light of the Good.

Now before we wrap this up, This wouldn't be an Occult Rejects Show if we didn't include Plotinus’s ideas about the eyes and light.

“He that has the strength, let him arise and withdraw into himself, foregoing all that is known by the eyes.” I .6 .8

Plotinus touches and reflects on the eyes and sight mainly in The Fifth Tractate: Problems of the Soul (3) / On Sight

Plotinus begins with a challenge that had tugged at Greek optics since Plato and Aristotle: can there be vision “in the absence of any intervening medium, such as air or some other form of what is known as transparent body?” From that deliberately technical question, he spirals outward into a meditation on what it means for any living being to apprehend a world.

In Enn. IV 5 Problems of the Soul (3) – On Sight

Plotinus thinks No seeing is possible “in the absence of a bodily medium,” because pure soul, left to itself, is absorbed in the intelligible realm and cannot interact with matter.

The bodily eye is grown by the ensouled organism as an organ of sympatheia—a continuation of the soul outward that lets it “come into something like unity with the alien”

Enn. IV 5 Problems of the Soul (3) – On Sight

We undertook to discuss the question whether sight is possible in the absence of any intervening medium, such as air or some other form of what is known as transparent body: this is the time and place. It has been explained that seeing and all sense-perception can occur only through the medium of some bodily substance, since in the absence of body the soul is utterly absorbed in the Intellectual Sphere. Sense-perception being the gripping not of the Intellectual but of the sensible alone, the soul, if it is to form any relationship of knowledge, or of impression, with objects of sense, must be brought in some kind of contact with them by means of whatever may bridge the gap.

Plotinus also reviews three optical models current in his day:

Progressive affection: the air itself is stamped with the object’s image and passes that imprint on, tier by tier, to the eye.

Extramission: the eye emits a fiery “visual ray,” carving a path that meets and merges with daylight.

Resistance theory: vision is a physical tussle where the medium pushes back against the visual ray.

He rejects all of them with one decisive diagnosis: any extra body between eye and object “adds nothing to seeing-power… the less material the intervening substance is, the more clearly we see.” If contact were a literal physical chain, he argues, the vast dark of night would break it—yet we still see camp-fires and stars. That thought experiment yields his most lapidary verdict: “In the blackest night… we can see the fire of the beacon-stations… therefore the impossibility of vision without an intervening substance does not depend upon that absence in itself: the sole reason is that, with the absence, there would be an end to the sympathy reigning in the living whole.”

Plotinus fuses three earlier theories:

Plato’s outward-streaming “visual fire,” Aristotle’s insistence on a medium, and the Stoic idea of a pneuma that links cosmos and observer. The eye does emit a living “pneumatic ray,” but vision is completed only when that ray meets the form-laden light coming the other way through the medium. Modern historians call this a reciprocal or two-ray model and see it as Plotinus’ own synthesis (cf. Emilsson, Plotinus on Sense-Perception; Cambridge monograph).

In this ennead he also sees Sight as sympatheia in a living cosmos

The breakthrough comes when Plotinus shifts from physics to biology. The universe is one living organism, every part “sympathetically” tuned to every other; perception is nothing but the momentary unison of two members of that organism. Thus: “The knowledge… is realized by means of bodily organs: through these, continuations of the soul, it comes into something like unity with the alien.” (Christian Classics Ethereal Library)

That “unity” is not brute contact but a double act. First act: the visual faculty of soul extends outward in a delicate, bodiless readiness. Second act: the object’s own power travels inward along the same channel of light. When the two acts coincide, vision flashes. “If, in the act of vision, that linked light becomes ensouled, if the soul permeates it and enters into union with it… the process of seeing will be like that of touch; the intervening light is not a necessity.” (Christian Classics Ethereal Library)

Gary Gurtler’s 2018 article in the International Journal of the Platonic Tradition calls this the most original move in the tractate: Plotinus “substitutes his own account in terms of both sympathy and the principle of two acts, explaining vision both during the day as well as at night … and derives strikingly original corollaries about the nature of light and the source of colour.”

Eyjólfur K. Emilsson, in his monograph Plotinus on Sense-Perception, identifies the same passage as the moment where vision becomes “an instance of the soul’s self-recognition rather than a passive impress” (ch. III). (Scribd)

When it comes to light and colour

Plotinus treats light not as a substance lodged in air but as the ongoing act of any luminous body. If air happens to be there, it glows; if not, the act leaps the void just as life leaps from soul to limb. He even anticipates the idea of a cone of vision: “Any given portion of the air contains the object of vision, in face-view so to speak… we are confronted by no merely corporeal phenomena; the facts depend upon the greater laws of a living being one and self-sensitive.” (Christian Classics Ethereal Library)

The physical eye is grown by the soul “as an instrument of sympatheia,” its clarity mirroring the self-reflective clarity of intellect. The famous moral outcome appears in a neighbouring ethical tractate but echoes here: “Never did eye see the sun unless it had first become sun-like.” (I 6 9) — a line that medieval and Renaissance writers quote whenever they invoke spiritual “illumination.”

Plotinus also speaks of the eye as metaphysical symbol

“Never did eye see the sun unless it had first become sun-like.” Plotinus’ most quoted aphorism equates bodily sun–eye with intelligible Good–soul. To behold supreme Beauty the “inner eye” must be purified until it resembles what it seeks. (Documenta Catholica Omnia)

Plotinus infers Our highest soul is always “looking at Nous,” but a lower part looks out through the eyeballs. Spiritual practice is the turning-around of that gaze from the dark screen of matter back to the intelligible light.

He also speaks of Higher analogies and mystical “sight”

Intellect (Nous) is the cosmic Eye. Just as the physical eye contains miniature images of everything it sees, the divine Intellect contains the archetypal Forms. Sight therefore models knowledge at every level: pupil → image, soul → idea, Intellect → One.

The “flash” of henôsis. Porphyry says Plotinus “became one with the One” four times; each experience is reported as a sudden light flooding the inner eye. In Enn. V 5 he compares this to seeing the sun by the sun’s own light—the seer and the seen are one luminous act.

Plotinus also says After death, if purified, the soul will “look on itself and all in a single glance,” freed from the distortions that plague earth-bound eyes (distance, dimness, refraction).

In a tractate ostensibly “about the eyes,” Plotinus ends by showing that vision is the whole soul stretching towards its origin. The outer drama of light crossing space is but the shadow of an inner drama: the intellect recognising itself in what it beholds. And just as henōsis erases the gap between knower and known, so perfect sight would erase the gap between eye and star. Until then, Plotinus leaves us with a metaphysical optic in which every glance is an act of sympathy, every colour a handshake across the living fabric of the universe, and every spark of light a reminder that seeing is always, at bottom, soul touching soul.

Plotinus taught that happiness is immune to fortune because it is not a trophy won in the arena of circumstance; it is the soul’s recognition of its own altitude. Even the stars, he said, are merely shimmering signatures in a letter already posted in the heart. If a third-century philosopher could stand amid civil war and plague and still praise the cosmos as “good,” the rest of us can try to practice that same devotion when headlines scream and algorithms beckon us.

And perhaps that is Plotinus’s final gift: the permission to treat every moment of clear attention as a lit stairway. When we love something truly beautiful, we glimpse Beauty-itself; when we reason honestly, we graze the edge of Intellect; when we forgive the world its bruises, we echo the generosity of the One that overflows without loss. The path is not a conquest but a remembering, a slow unclenching until giver and gift, seeker and sought, meet in a silence deeper than could ever be imagined.

So take this conversation with you into whatever night or morning surrounds you. Let the lamplight on your desk, the bulb hanging from your ceiling, or the passing headlights in the street remind you that every flicker is a faint relay of one inexhaustible brilliant radiance.

The philosopher of Campania believed—and lived as though believing—that no soul is ever truly exiled from that source. May we, too, learn to travel homeward not by running faster but by standing still, listening, and letting the hidden fountain speak to us. Until next time, stay curious, stay courageous, and with love in your heart, keep that inner compass pointed toward the light behind your eyes.